The Creators Ch. 13

I wreathed myself in black flame, and stomped into the ground. The trapdoor flew open, and great flailing legs shot out, followed by a great black armored body bearing two dripping mandibles. The two hind legs stayed anchored to the door's entrance as the other six pounded the earth where I'd just been, and the mandible jaws snapped ferociously. The thing was larger than an elephant and quicker than a cheetah, but I was fire itself. I actually felt sympathy for the horrific thing as I vaporized it. Though it was grotesque and alien, it was still one of God's creatures, and it was innocent. It was simply as the Holy Mother had made it, and it could not be what it was not. I said a prayer for it as it became black soot in the sand, and then I drew the crescent symbol over my heart, and walked into its hole.

The black flame in my palm cast long and vivid shadows against the walls. The spider's hole was not the hovel I expected, but a long and wide tunnel seemingly carved from its own rough shell. It was smooth and rigid, and covered in waste. Bones mingled with excrement upon the floor, and terrifying shed carapaces in the shape of its host created statues along the walls. As I moved deeper into the tunnel, the shed carapaces became smaller and smaller until the last one was barely larger than my hand. Here, my foot pressed into moist soil, and water flowed around my toes and heel, heaven to my flesh, but I did not dip my head to drink the earthen liquid. I frowned, and looked before me. The tunnel didn't stop here, but continued. I peered into the darkness, and saw the unmistakable glint of light at the end of the tunnel.

I extinguished my flame before reaching the threshold, and walked silently into the sunlight. At the back of the tunnel, was a large chamber. It was perhaps a hundred yards long on every side, and fifty feet beneath the ground. The pale blue desert sky shown above, and though the blistering sun glared through the hole at the top, it was cool down here. I realized why I had never seen this place during my trek. The hole was wreathed in a jagged outcropping of rocks, each stone column standing several hundred feet in the air. From a distance, the formation would've appeared solid all the way through, and I would never have dared such a treacherous exploration when there were sure to be giant rattlers within the crevasses. If there were such creatures in the formation, they weren't here. For upon the chamber floor, were rows of adobe huts carved into the rock.

Orcs meandered about the small subterranean village. They conversed with each other in groups, lounged outside of their abodes, and exhibited the lethargy afforded to them when protected by a massive spider. I wished Diamond were here, for she would've undoubtedly delighted at the symbiosis the orcs had created with their caretaker. Did they feed the beast to keep it there, or was their mere presence enough to attract other predators toward their unwitting doom at the trapdoor? Did they worship it like a god, or simply regard it as a house pet? Ah, but my curiosity was not nearly as ravenous as my daughter's, and my concerns were more for my parched throat than anything else. I walked from the darkness of the tunnel, and into the light.

A little girl saw me, and screamed. All eyes immediately shot toward me, and a few seconds later, I was surrounded on all sides by the points of spears. I hadn't until that point registered the sheer size of these orcs. They were massive, the biggest of them standing nearly eight feet high and broader than a bull at the shoulders. The spear in his hand probably weighed more than I did, but he thrust it at me like it was a twig. So, this was the chieftain then.

"H'niok heshana cortolok!" he demanded.

Oh Good Mother they don't speak common tongue. Why would they?

"Keriaci gunilok conturiki," I tried in broken old-empire orcish.

My book-worm teen years had served me well, for the chieftain's brows went up, and he raised his spear a fraction. "You speak the old tongue?" he asked in empire orcish.

"Not very well."

"But well enough to understand me."

I nodded.

He looked me over, assessing every bend and curve of my body, his dark eyes stopping for a moment to make sense of my penis before traversing the rest of my unique complexion. Undoubtedly, he'd never seen a sparkling black-patterned hermaphroditic dawn-elf before, and his curiosity was nearly as obvious as his wariness. Finally, his eyes rested on mine, and the lines on his face became hard.

"What astral meld is this?" he asked.

"No meld," I answered.

His eyes narrowed. "Then the most ancient one infects you. That is how you got past Posiak."

"Was that the name of your spider?"

"What do you mean was?! She is dead?!"

"It was a she? She didn't have babies, did she? Gosh, I'd feel absolutely—"

"Graminok!" the chief roared.

"I'm sorry, is that a word in your tongue, or in—"

"Graminok is our shaman," the chieftain growled at me, thrusting his spear threateningly. "He will decide what to do with you!"

"We don't need Graminok to decide, Yuntok!" the woman behind me snarled. "Put this elven bitch on a spit, and roast her! Maybe her bubbling flesh will attract another guardian!"

"She is an abomination, a demoness sent from Untiok!" a young man exclaimed. "We must leave her out in the sun as offering to Asaion!"

"We should cut off her disfigurement first! It likely has potent healing properties!"

"There's no cure for having a small cock, Dedrok."

"But there might be a cure for the herpes you gave me, Striok!"

"Enough!" Yuntok yelled. The bickering orcs silenced just as an old man shuffled toward me from the village. Though he was bowed with age, there was an unmistakable strength in his step, and even with the deep curve of his spine, he still stood an imposing six and a half feet tall. Bones rattled from a necklace that draped over his chest, piercings punctured his cheeks, ears and nostrils, and ritualistic scarification ribbed his flesh with the tattoos that covered every inch of him. The circle of orcs parted for him, and Graminok cast his dark eyes upon me. He studied me for a moment, scrutinizing me with much more care than the others had. He even went so far as to dip low and prod my penis with his staff before huffing, and looking the rest of me over.

"You are of the dawn lineage," he croaked in common tongue.

"I am."

"Of a very ancient house," he studied my face carefully. "A very hated house, ancestor of Gen."

"How do you know that?"

"My ancestors were the priests of Furok and Droktin, and they knew the features of our enemy. There are patterns of the face unique to every family, and no matter how diluted the blood becomes, the patterns do not fade entirely. The cast of your eyes, the set of your nose, the shapes of your lips," he touched a finger to each feature. "These are the tellers of your bloodline, ancestor of Gen." He glanced down at my crotch. "Though I daresay there's not even a bit of dwarvish in that part of you. Now tell me girl, how is it that you became infected with the plague of the most ancient one? Who is melded to that parasite?"

"It is not a plague. It is the enlightenment of God, and my daughter is the vessel."

"She killed Posiak," Yuntok growled.

Graminok nodded. "The plague gives its host an apathy for their own safety. That is why this little she-elf is venturing naked in the wastelands. The plague also gifts its host an uncanny perception, which combined with dumb luck, can make anyone deadly. What you see here, Yuntok, is the result of madness. This creature is broken beyond repair. She will not make a worthy sacrifice for Asaion, nor will she be used well as bait."

"Then what do we do with her?" Yuntok growled.

Graminok waved derisively at me. "Turn her around and let her go. Staining this hallowed ground with her corrupted blood will set a curse upon this place."

"We can't just let her go!" Yuntok growled.

Graminok shrugged, and turned to leave. "You are the chieftain. I have given you the wisdom of Asaion, but the choice is ultimately yours."

"Asaion is your god?" I asked the shaman.

Graminok looked back at me. "He is not my god, she-elf; he is the god."

"There is only one god."

"Then we are in accordance," he snorted, and turned back to leave.

"What's the word, chief?" Striok asked Yuntok.

"Are we going to spit her and burn her?" Dedrok asked excitedly.

"No," Yuntok growled, "we cannot ignore the wisdom of Asaion. We will take her outside, and slit her throat on unhallowed ground."

"Graminok," I called, heedless of the conversation occurring around me.

The shaman turned back, looking at me with an irritated expression. "Do not solicit me for mercy, she-elf."

"I am not asking you for mercy; I am offering it to you," I said. "Renounce your heretical faith, and pledge your life to the Holy Mother."

Graminok snorted. "Safe travels in the afterlife, ancestor of Gen."

"Grab her!" Yuntok demanded, and I erupted. The walls danced with the violent white shadows, but the chamber dimmed, the very light seeming to be sucked from it, absorbed into my black flame. The orcs were sent sprawling, and I stepped past them toward their shaman, who stared at me with an expression of widening disbelief.

"Graminok," I yelled, "you are a false prophet for a false god! Confess your sins and suffer perdition now, and the Holy Mother may grant you sanctuary in the life beyond!"

The shaman just gaped at me. His staff fell from his fingers, and he dropped to one knee. "Great Asaion, it is the Heat Bringer!" he gasped. "The most ancient one has corrupted the Destroyer!"

"I have been enlightened by the Holy Mother!" I growled, and raised my hand at him. "Confess your sins before the Flame of God, and bear your punishment! I am trying to save you!"

"Asaion, save me!" the shaman cried.

"STOP YOUR BLASPHEMY, YOU OLD FOOL!" I screamed. "Confess now, or damn yourself for all eternity!"

"Asaion!" the shaman called to the sky above. "Give me your mercy! Show me your strength! Help me! HELP ME! HELP—" And he was consumed in black flame. It painted his body, the plasma suffusing to his very flesh, hot enough to burn, but not yet hot enough to kill. His screams became screeches, and his screeches became shrieks. He writhed upon the floor as his flesh bubbled and hissed, as his sinew and tendons were bared, as his eyeballs melted into whites that pooled from his sockets and cried down his blackening cheeks. His hair burst aflame and scorched his scalp to the bone, his muscles were exposed and singed to black. It was a horrific death, an agonizing death, and his mindless tormented shrieks carried through it, now so anguished that they were void of all humanity. It needed to be done. I had to cleanse his soul with my flame, and cut the sin out of him with the scalpel of agony before I sent him to the Holy Mother, or he would suffer this for eternity.

"Go to her," I whispered as his tongue melted to his toasted lips. "Go in grace and with a light heart, Graminok. You have been saved."

He didn't die until his muscles were falling off the bone. His last breath rattled from him, and his exposed skull smiled to the sky above. I ceased my fire, and the blackened body smoldered with white embers, the echoes of his scream still carrying down the tunnel I had emerged from. I let out a satisfied sigh, and smiled to the sky above. Somewhere in the heavens, Graminok was meeting God. What a fortunate man he was. I glanced down at myself, and my smile faded somewhat when I realized I was sporting a throbbing erection. Enacting the Holy Mother's justice seemed to stir my lustful side.

I turned toward the rest of the orc clan, unashamed of my arousal. They were huddled together with their spears pointed at me. Only the very ends of the hafts remained, and I realized that they'd been trying to stab me. I would forgive them. They were just savages after all, toddlers with pointy sticks who did not yet understand. I raised my arms magnanimously, and donned a radiant smile.

"Children of the Gratoran Desert," I said, "you have been forsaken, cast out and beaten into submission. The orc empire of old has fallen, and its remains are rusted away. It was your punishment for beseeching knowledge that did not belong to you, for worshipping idols that were false. Gratora, Hektin, Droktin and Furok were blasphemers and traitors, and so their nation was rendered to ash. Now you live in purity, as savage innocents like in the time long ago. Let me take you from your renewed infancy. Let me show you the way. I am the Flame of God, and I have been enlightened! Upon these sands, I will forge God's kingdom, and with your might, I will assemble God's holy army!"

The orcs just stared at me, wide-eyed and blinking. They were terrified of me, and though it excited me to engender their fear, I was actually trying to elicit feelings of awe and hope. I had assumed that orcs would be roused by my display of raw power and violence, as Lucilla always told me violence and power were all orcs ever cared about, but Lucilla was of the elven aristocracy, which meant Lucilla was one of the most racist people on Balamora. Orcs were... well, they were people, and any person would be terrified if a black-eyed deity of legend just cooked their shaman alive, then proclaimed herself the messenger of God with an erection between her legs. Well, this was rather embarrassing. I lowered my arms, and dipped my head bashfully.

"My leadership skills obviously need some work," I giggled at my toes. "The Holy Mother desires her priestesses to lead through humility, and that was all rather boisterous of me. I will have to seek penance for my arrogance later." I dropped to my knees before the orcs, and folded my hands into my lap. "Shall we start over?" I smiled sweetly at them. "I am Julia Gendian, Heat Bringer and carrier of the enlightenment. Several months ago, two dark-elves by the names of Drask and Torondi came to me, and purposed me with a holy quest: to ignite the furnace of Droktinar, and to rebuild the orc nation, and so, that is why I am here."

"Drask and Torondi?" Yuntok asked, barely speaking the words through his fear-coiled throat.

"Did you know them?"

He shook his head. "No, but those are Qitaki names. They winter here, but they summer further west. I can show you on a map."

"That's fine," I said, holding up a staying hand. "I am not here for just one orc clan, Yuntok. I am here for all orc-kind." I tried to keep my smile as gentle as it could be. "The Holy Mother beset me to wander the desert until I found her people, and I have found you. Truly, you are blessed."

Yuntok looked from me, to the burnt husk of his shaman, then back to me. "This is our home," he said at length.

"No, this is a hole in the ground barely fit for a spider."

"My forefathers built this place."

I opened my hands in a gesture that I hoped conveyed compassion. "You have lived in squalor for so long that you have forgotten the majesty you are owed. I will show it to you, Yuntok. Kings and queens will bow to you, if you just take my hand."

He looked from my hand, to my eyes. "And if I refuse?"

I shrugged. "The Holy Mother sent me here to build her earthly kingdom. Anyone who does not join in this great odyssey is a heretic, and there is only one way for heretics to get into heaven."

Yuntok swallowed. "Perhaps you should just let the nonbelievers burn in hell then."

"I am afraid that I cannot do that. If even one soul slips from my grasp, it will be a great tragedy. The choice is yours; take this hand, or this one," I said, held out my other hand, and ignited it.

I stayed kneeling before the orcs, and I waited patiently. Yuntok watched me for a while, then stood upon shaking legs, and walked over to me. His hand was so massive that the span of my fingers could've been encased in his palm, but his grip upon me was so light that I could barely feel it. He took my hand, and I bid him to kiss the middle knuckle.

"Say, 'bless me, Sister,'" I told him.

"Bless me, Sister," he mumbled, and kissed the knuckle.

"Kneel," I commanded gently, and though there was tremendous apprehension upon his face, he dropped to his knees before me. I stood, and even at my full stature, I was shorter than he. I had to awkwardly shuffle over to a barrel, drag it in front of the prostrating orc, and then clumsily climb atop it just to stand above him. When I finally secured my footing, all the other orcs had come from their steadings, and were standing in a semicircle around us.

"All of you are nonbelievers," I said, "but you cannot be punished for what you were never taught. I will show you all the righteous path, the Maternal Path, and in time, you will begin to believe." I held up my obsidian pendant. "Fire and rock can shape the earth, but it is faith that shapes the heavens. Your flesh is but your vessel, and pain is the membrane of your purification." I surged heat into the crescent until it was near the glass point, and then I pressed it to Yuntok's brow. He roared in pain, but he did not move. I savored his agony for indulgent seconds, my cock growing hard between my legs, then I pulled the crescent from his brow, and left a prominent burnt gash there. I bowed and placed a kiss upon it, removing the heat from the wound. He relaxed somewhat, but the pain was still evident in his expression.

"I bid you to rise, Brother," I beamed down at him, and he rose to unstable footing. I cupped his cheek, and caressed his severe and brutish face. "You have been baptized with the Holy Mother's flame, and marked as her faithful servant. Rejoice, for the path to salvation is now laid open before you."

"Thank you, Sister," he mumbled, not meaning it at all. He'd get there in time, I was sure of it. I had faith in him. I bid him away, then looked at the next orc, and smiled as I heated up the crescent once more. There were perhaps a hundred men, women and children in this clan, and today, I would save each and every one of them.

JUSTINA

Helga had brought me to an outcropping a few hours south of where we'd met. There was a pool there, and a statue of the orgasming Astrid Skyborne displayed prominently for all of the Gratoran Desert to see. So, this was the place. After seeing what had become of Diamond, I felt a horrible pang of guilt for how I'd treated Willowbud in the end. If as pure a soul as Diamond could be so monstrous, then for certain, the real Willowbud was a saint. If I had but extended my hand in mercy, then both she and Astrid would still be alive, but I saw all the weakness in Willowbud that I hated in myself, and when given the opportunity to inflict fear on someone else, I had taken it with relish. I guessed I knew what my darkness was.

"This is a holy place," Helga muttered as she gently laid me on some furs. "The waters are blessed. They will heal you."

"That's not how this works," I groaned, my foot and leg throbbing with agony. Helga was deft at dressing and suturing wounds, but every time she touched me flesh-to-flesh, she fell under my enslavement. With my body in full-blown survival-mode and my glands dumping pheromones in self-defense, there was no controlling my prowess. After releasing her from my slavery five different times, I just had her wrap me in a blanket, and fly me to Iona. Halfway there, the agony in my leg had forced us aground. My immune system was in the shitter, and the wounds were burning with infection. I knew from a cursory glance that I didn't have much longer. I could already feel the fever setting in.

Helga raced over to the pool, collected the water in her canteen, said a prayer to the statue of Astrid, then ran back over to me. While it did feel pleasant to have the soft cool water rush over the burning holes in my foot and leg, the wound did not magically close. Helga's wings drooped in a cartoonish display of disappointment.