The Creators Ch. 02

Chapter Two: The Heat Bringer

JULIA

Eighteen years ago, the incubus mystic came to the elven capital of Terondia, and with him, came a shadow that darkened the empire. The matriarchs of the Church of the Holy Mother denounced him and tried to bar him entrance, but the emperor waved them away; the mystic's prophecy was too tempting to disbelieve. The old man stood in the great hall before the horrified eyes of the matriarchs, the scrutinizing eyes of the wizards, and the greedy eyes of the emperor, and he spoke his heresy.

"A Creator of elven blood will be born a week from this night," the mystic had said. "She will be of the pure blood, and she will be the Heat Bringer."

Then, he died. The matriarchs claimed his death was divine punishment, the wizards claimed it was an enchantment of astral power, but the emperor saw it as proof of the man's prophecy. What would a man have to gain for such heresy, if he were to die after it was told? Clearly, the emperor postulated, the man's prophecy was his very life force, and its release marked it as truth. At first, a census was taken of all babes born on the prophesized night. Only high-elf babes were catalogued, as the 'pure blood' no doubt meant those of porcelain skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. Dark-elves had bloodlines mixed with orcs, bright-elves had bloodlines mixed with dwarves, and dawn-elves had bloodlines mixed with nymphs, but high-elves could trace their lineage back to the days of the old blood. High-elves were once again reassured of their superiority (of course a returned god would be of high blood; pure blood), and the world went on as it usually did.

Five years later, the emperor took the children. Seven-hundred daughters of high blood were stripped from their mother's arms, and sent to Terondia to live in the palace. The families were assured that their sacrifice was for the good of the empire, that their reward would be bountiful, and their children well cared for, but they were never allowed to see their daughters again. Whispers started breathing through the populace, rumors of the horrors that occurred behind the palace's stone walls. The emperor became more secluded, and the government became less responsive. Riots broke out, markets crashed, and people took to the streets to demand answers. The response they were given, was violence. Police forces smashed into the protestors, people were seized in the dark, and curfews were placed indefinitely. The brutality quelled the dissenters, and the elven empire came to the sinking realization that they were ruled by a manic tyrant.

But I was safe. I was of bright blood; my crimson straight hair, green eyes and shorter stature marked me as impure, at least in the eyes of the emperor. He couldn't know that the mystic's prophecy meant those descendants from the line of the dwarven Creator, Arbitrus Gen. At least, that's what I'd told myself every night, when I lied awake listening for the sounds of police bootsteps outside my window.

"Sister Julia?" Mother Septina called. I sighed, and closed my book.

"Yes, Mother Septina?" I called back from the kitchen, hiding the book beneath a pile of napkins.

"The princess would like to speak with you," Mother Septina responded, thankfully not coming into the kitchen to snoop around. I slipped the book beneath my habit and walked briskly past the ornery mother. A flight of steps later, and I was on the top floor of the estate, and knocking on the door of my princess.

"Come in, Sister," Princess Lucilla Flitari called. I opened the door with my head bowed, and closed it silently behind me. Princess Flitari stood in the window; her twenty-year-old statuesque frame curving in a subtle hourglass figure beneath a silken dress, her platinum blonde hair lying straight behind her pointed ears, and her blue eyes sparkling from the porcelain mask of her beautiful face. She smiled brightly to me, and after I scanned the room for anyone else, I smiled back.

"What do you think of this dress?" she asked, twirling extravagantly in front of me.

"It looks perfect, of course, Your Grace," I smiled politely, "if you're intention is to be with child before the night is out."

"Maybe that is my intention," Lucilla smirked, extending a perfectly formed leg from the slit cut alongside her dress, and raising an eyebrow. "Though I must be terribly bad at it, because no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get pregnant."

"Your chastity is holy, Your Grace;" I replied. "It is good to hear that my teachings have not fallen on deaf ears."

"No one's listening, Julia," Lucilla said with a wry smile. "You can cut the shit."

"Well then, Lucilla," I said, allowing my smile to grow wicked. "I'd say that your fertility problem lies in a lack of biological understanding."

"And why's that?"

"One cannot conceive a child from her anus," I grinned.

Lucilla twisted her face, and then burst out laughing. She gestured for me to sit as she fought to regain control of herself.

"Oh, sweet Mother," Lucilla croaked as she sat across from me, wiping tears from her eyes. "It never ceases to amaze me what dirty thoughts go through that pure mind of yours."

"Devotion to the Holy Mother is a testament of one's actions," I replied, pouring wine in her glass, and water in mine, "Thoughts and words are of little consequence."

"I wish the other sisters shared your interpretation of the texts," Lucilla said as she took a sip of wine. "All I get from them is judgement and lectures."

"You are a reflection of our order," I said, drinking my water in congruence with her sips, "and your reputation does not make us look good."

"The Holy Mother herself could shine on me from the heavens, and I'd still drink, smoke and fuck my way through life," Lucilla smiled, wiping purple wine from her lush lips. "Your order just pulled the short straw in terms of princesses."

"At least you're not boring. Not a day goes by when you haven't presented us with a new crisis of faith."

"And yet, you pour me wine," Lucilla pointed out. "My own priestess, tempting me with sin."

"Of all your sins, Lucilla," I said, pouring her another glass and smirking, "consumption is the least of our problems."

"But doesn't it lower my inhibitions?" Lucilla responded with a raised eyebrow. "Doesn't wine lead to more nefarious sins?"

"It's a question of timing, really," I said, sitting back. "If you drink four glasses now, you're likely to be too tired to go out tonight, but if you wait until this evening, the wine will compel you to act on your baser desires. You see, I'm suffering a minor sin now, to prevent a major sin later."

"How tactful of you," Lucilla chuckled. "You will do well as my advisor in the High Court."

I felt my heart leap into my chest. The High Court? Of Terondia?! That's the last place I can go!

"What was that, Your Grace?" I asked.

"'Your Grace,' hmm?" Lucilla smiled knowingly, "Funny how decorum comes roaring back once a little discomfort is salted into the conversation. Why do you hate that place so much?"

"It's far from home," I lied, "and my charge is here, with you."

"Well, I won't be here," Lucilla said. "I'm leaving for Terondia this afternoon."

"I don't see why I should come with you. There are sisters in the capital who are more than willing to preach and lecture for you."

"I'm not coming back, Julia," Lucilla said, and her usual playful nature diminished. "I'm moving there permanently."

"What?!" I exclaimed, unable to keep my composure.

"My father has executed Telavia," Lucilla said gravely. "She betrayed the crown... somehow."

"He killed your sister?" I whispered, putting my hand on hers.

"She was a traitor," Lucilla said, keeping her lip stiff, "and she was my half-sister, Julia; we barely knew each other. But the act reshuffles the line of succession. I'm third in line to the throne now, which means I'm too important to be governing estates in the country."

"'Governing' is an interesting word for what you do here," I said with a sad smile. Lucilla laughed a joyless, dry laugh. Her hands were shaking.

"I know I'm not the most responsible of royalty," she said, tears welling in her eyes, "but maybe I can fake it. Maybe, if I just... if I just..."

Lucilla gripped my hand tighter, and took a huge gulp of wine to steel herself. It didn't work. Her face fell into my chest, and she bawled.

"I'm so fucking scared, Julia!" she sobbed. "I'm not ready for this! Father is demanding my assistance with his mad project! He killed Telavia because she wasn't getting results; his own daughter! And now he wants me to take her place?! She'd been working with him for two years, and I haven't so much as read a book on the subject!"

"You'll do fine," I whispered, petting her hair and trying to calm her as much as I was trying to calm myself, "you'll just have to be careful."

"He's insane, Julia!" Lucilla cried. "They say he hasn't been seen for two years, that he spends his life in the palace with those girls he stole, that he rants and raves about the prophecy, trying to figure out why a lie told by an old man didn't come true!"

But it did come true, I thought. The mystic's words were more prophetic than anything spoken by the holy matriarchs, and now the prize the emperor has sought will be traveling right through his front door.

"I am so fucked," Lucilla whimpered in my lap. "Father will blame me for his own failures, and they'll put my head on a—"

She stopped when her hand found the hard spot below my habit. Her fingers reached around it, and clutched the outline of the book's spine.

"What is this?" she asked, pulling the book from the pouch sewn to my habit.

"A little piece of sacrilege I was trying to hide from the mother," I replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice.

"The Journal of Arbitrus Gen," Lucilla said, looking from the book, to me. "This is a juicy piece of blasphemy. Why are you reading it?"

"To ease the monotony," I replied, "holy texts are wonderful, but they don't offer much in the way of entertainment."

"And histories of dead Creators do?"

"Sometimes," I smiled, taking the book from Lucilla's hands, "reading about what actually happened is a nice reprieve from reading about what might've happened."

"Sister Julia!" Lucilla gasped. "That is bordering on blasphemy!"

"It's no worse than the things you do on a nightly basis," I smirked, crinkling my nose at my best friend. Lucilla's smile shined on her face, and I was relieved for two reasons. The first, was that she wouldn't question me further, and the second, was that the terror in her eyes vanished for a moment. I never wanted to see that look in her eyes again, but I suspected it would become commonplace in Terondia. I knew deep down that the darker days were just around the corner.

LUCILLA

It had been three weeks since Julia, myself, and a host of guards and servants had left the estate for Terondia, and I was freezing my fucking ass off. Whatever genius founded Terondia should've been taken behind a barn and shot. From the south, the city is incredibly easy to get to. Tributaries, lakes and flat plains make for simple travel, but from the north, it's damn near unreachable. We climbed mountain after mountain, sometimes having to stop for hours to replace the carriage wheels with sled blades, and the whole time—the whole fucking time—I froze my ass off.

Julia's blasphemous interest in dead Creators proved to be an invaluable tool, and she took the opportunity to give me a crash-course on all the things I should've already learned. I remembered a time when Julia was just a little redhead with a penchant for mischief. Now, she was lecturing me like I was a child, even though I was two years her senior. Why she chose to become a nun, I'll never know, but ever since she took her vows, she'd been the adult between us. Sure, I had sex plenty of times, and she was a virgin (and would be until she died), but the maturation of experience and the maturation of the soul were two different things. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without her, and that's why I decided she was going to be glued to my side the whole time we were in Terondia.

"Oh, good Mother!" Julia gasped as she looked out the window. We were carefully sliding down a glacier pass, and descending into a wide, green valley. Three thousand feet below the tree-line, sprawled a massive city. Terondia was a poorly placed city, but it was a magnificent one. The entire city was built on an uplift of rock that sprouted just before the mountain range. It seemed to swell from the earth in spiraling streets and buildings, all of which led inevitably to the five-hundred-foot spire at its peak that marked the beacon tower of the palace. Some ancient Earth Former named 'Iona' had apparently made the city, but of course, the high-elves took all the credit. That would be my home now; probably forever. Though I dreaded the prospect of living there, the idea of a warm hearth and hot cocoa was very enticing. Julia however, did not seem to mind the cold at all. I swear, I didn't see her breath fog the glass even once. Being a bright-elf meant that at least one of her ancestors had to be a dwarf, so that probably explained her comfort in the cold, but it didn't stop me from being slightly irritated at her. In my humble opinion, if I was uncomfortable, everyone else should be too.

We switched the sleigh blades to wheels, and then rolled briskly down the mountain pass to the city's center. Before long, we were bustled through the palace gates; massive stone blocks that opened and closed with agonizing slowness. The moment the gates shut behind us, I finally saw the discomfort on Julia's face. I felt bad for her, but I smiled inwardly. Finally, someone as uncomfortable as me. From there, we endured a modest procession, and then were briskly taken to the throne room. My father was of course, not present for my arrival. The man was more of a stranger to me than the bartender at the local tavern (although, few people knew me better than he), and he hadn't even corresponded with me since I left for the estate fourteen years ago, when I was six.

"Princess Lucilla Flitari," one of my father's advisor said to me, standing in front of the vacant throne, "thank you for your spirited arrival. His Highness is waiting for you in the keep."

"He wants to see me?" I asked, feeling my breath catch in my throat, "Now?!"

"Of course," the adviser said, looking very amused at my distress, "you're his daughter. You can leave your priestess with us, and we'll escort her to your quarters."

"No," I said firmly. "She goes where I go."

"Your Grace," Julia whispered behind me, "I don't think that's—"

"Women of the church have been banned from the palace keep," the adviser said. "His Highness's orders are final."

"Your Grace," Julia whispered again, "I'll be fine on my own."

"But I won't be!" I hissed back. "I fucking need you, Julia!"

"You're a strong woman, Lucilla," Julia whispered, giving me an apologetic smile. "You will find a way."

Julia actually looked relieved that she didn't have to go. I couldn't blame her, but once again, I was mad that she wasn't going to be sharing in my discomfort. I gave her a parting scowl, and then followed my escort to the keep. They were two heavily armored guards, both of dark blood. Of all the races of elves, dark-elves were the most different. Their bronze skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes distinguished them from the porcelain skin, blue eyes, and platinum hair of high-elves; the pale skin, green eyes, and red hair of bright-elves; and the tan skin, hazel eyes, and golden hair of dawn elves. Not only that, but they stood several inches taller than high-elves, the next tallest race, and were of much stockier build. They still bore the fair features and pointed ears of all elves, but there was a fearsomeness about them that made them excellent soldiers.

"We're going to be your guards from here on out," one of them said to me, oddly not addressing me by my honorific. "I'm Drask, and this is Torondi; don't try to talk to him, he doesn't speak."

"And why's that?" I asked.

"He gets attached to the people he's charged to protect," Drask explained.

"And that's a bad thing... why?"

"You're to be the emperor's assistant," Drask said. "So to be honest, we're not really expecting this to be a long-term relationship."

"Oh," I muttered, feeling a chill crawl up my spine, "I see."

"If you want my advice, just do what he says. Telavia started screaming about how his whole project was bullshit, and look where that got her. Just put on a smile, and say 'yes, sir,' no matter what he asks of you."

Drask stopped at the door to the keep, and then turned to face me, a stern expression on his face.

"Let me see your poker-face, Princess," he said.

"My... what?"

"Show me the face you give ambassadors and merchants when they insult you," Drask said. "That face that says, 'I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that.' You're going to need that face in there."

"I... don't have that face," I said nervously, entwining my fingers together. "I've never actually dealt with ambassadors or merchants."

Drask snorted. "Well, you're fucked."

"Yeah," I sighed, not caring any longer about this man's lack of propriety, "I am."

"At least you know it," Drask said, and then opened the door. "Try not to scream."

I walked through the door, and barely held the shriek that bulged in my throat. The sound hit me first. Moans and screams assaulted my ears in a discordant symphony of depravity that echoed to form a demonic roar. The sight hit me a second later when my brain realized the abstraction my eyes beheld. It was like I was staring at a demented renaissance painting. The pale fine skin of high-elf women mingled with the dark-green flesh of orc; their bodies strewn about the expansive marble floor; gyrating in debauched motions, wriggling in perverse heaves and bending in rows of arching backs. The platinum strands of elven hair flailed wildly as their bearers were taken violently in every which way from which angle, their bodies engulfed with the musculature of their assaulters. It seemed that not a hole was left unfilled. Each woman was stuffed to capacity, some with multiple men in a single hole, all of them occupied mercilessly. The woman nearest to me was bent over; an orc beneath her, an orc behind her, and an orc in front of her. She writhed between the men taking her ass and pussy, shifting to some depraved dance whose cadence only she could hear. She watched me with unseeing glazed-over eyes as she took the orc in front of her all the way down her throat, her neck bulging with his girthy length. Her occupied mouth leaked soft gurgles and gags, and though she looked to be in discomfort, she also seemed to be entranced in a euphoria too great for her mind to take.

They thrusted harder and harder into her, and she only seemed to move with greater fervency in response. In and out, in an out; the cocks piercing her were slick with the nectar of her arousal and the secretion of her mouth, the lubricant spilling out from her ruby gaping anus to further grease the violation of her sanctum slit. Faster and faster; her body began to ripple; her breasts flailing beneath her, her ass jiggling with the impact of the orc sodomizing her, her thighs quivering in abject pleasure. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she uttered a primal desperate scream as the thrusts reached their peak, and she dove into a violent spinal arch, her breasts jutting forth, her hips shooting back, her entire body quaking as she came in a toe-curling, leg-trembling display of vulgar lust the likes of which I'd never seen. The men came as well, and the woman ravenously drank the seed of the one in her throat as the viscous white fluid spilled from the gaping holes behind her. They pulled out with a slop of rubbery meat, and left her comatose and leaking upon the floor, her pink holes unable to coalesce from their reamed state. She shuddered with the aftershocks of ecstasy, then her eyes fell upon me. As she watched me from beneath her brow, she dipped her head low, and began lapping up what had been expelled from her.