The Lineage Ch. 02

Marcus awoke as the sun fell across his face. His body lay still, but his mind was restless -- as if he had been going and going forever, never able to stop. He forced his eyes open and half-expected Zenna to be gone, but she was still sound asleep, the sheets stretched painfully over her body, her chest alone rising and falling rhythmically.

Up and down, up and down, as if they were inflating and then deflating.

This almost hypnotic motion kept Marcus occupied for a while, but he decided to be first out of bed. He walked over to his armor half-folded across a chair and put it on. It burgeoned around his waist, a sign that he was aging, much to his dismay.

When I return home, I will have this refitted.

He helped himself to some of the food he had purchased the previous night -- hardly more than a few fruits and a bit of salted meat, but he had to spend the rest of his money on Zenna's clothes, and a carriage.

The carriage! It would be waiting for them in an hour. Marcus strode over to Zenna, rubbing her shoulder to stir the elf.

Zenna groaned as she awoke. Normally she would be awakened by the slave-owner clanging metal together loudly, or water being dumped over her and her fellow slaves. This awakening was less rude, but still undesired. She buried her face further in the mattress.

"Zenna, the carriage leaves soon, we must go."

Groaning again, she eventually gave in and began to open her eyes. She turned towards Marcus as he removed his hand from her. She froze momentarily, as she forgot where she was in such an alien environment, but her thoughts returned, and the moment faded. She arose from bed, covering herself in Marcus' cloak. He faced away from her, respecting her privacy.

Not making any further eye contact, Zenna went to the rest room to wash up and relieve herself. Marcus returned to eating his breakfast and reached into his sack to remove some clothes he had purchased the night before. Laying them out on the table, Zenna returned and saw the strange garments.

"I figured you wanted something more conservative than that old rag," Marcus began, "but, sadly, it's very difficult to find someone who sells clothes to fit someone of your...say, shape? My apologies, but I was able to locate some that should work for now. Technically, they are maternal clothes for female orcs, but the dimensions were about as close as I could get, especially on my budget."

Zenna looked upon the clothes with mild curiosity. When she lived in the Hallowmire Forest, her family clothed her in basically whatever cloth would fit, which was not much. Much of her life was spent shying away from others who seemed intent on undressing her with their leering eyes. These clothes before her appeared to be the closest thing to actual clothing she had ever been given, even if they were a vastly different fit than they should be.

"Thank you...?" said the elf with apprehension.

"You are most welcome," Marcus answered, "please try them on and eat something, we have quite the journey ahead, and I can finally answer your questions. I am sure you have many."

Many questions Zenna did indeed have, but she felt as if she had to wait for a better time, where her "master" could properly answer.

She tried on the clothing as best she could, and it flared greatly around her immense bust and her package, let alone her thighs and voluminous behind. Her small waist acted like an hourglass, and so she had to fashion a belt out of some fabric. The material was soft but worn, certainly not new, but she felt a calming warmness she was unaccustomed to, certainly more protective than her previous material. There were also a set of handmade shoes, hardly held together by more than a passing whim, but at least they fit.

Satisfied that her clothing was going to fit as best it could, she turned her attention to the table full of various foods left out for her. A grumbling erupted from her stomach, signaling it was long overdue from the last time she ate. The food, as small as it was, had disappeared by the time Marcus returned from the washroom, cleaned and ready to leave.

"Sorry, should have found you something to eat last night, guess you really were hungry, huh?" Marcus laughed softly, but Zenna did not respond. "I guess that's everything. Let us go."

Marcus checked out at the front desk and the pair proceeded back through town. Zenna followed closely behind Marcus, who was again clad in his cloak over his armor. She mainly kept her gaze on the path they travelled, but she occasionally looked around the street. People were just opening their shops for the day or headed out to whatever their job may be. A few passersby looked in the elf's direction, some for longer than she felt comfortable. Under her clothes, it was difficult to tell her body shape, but it appeared that she was wearing many layers, and a huge, scaffolded skirt, as best as it can be described.

The pair continued out towards the edge of town, where multiple stables which travelers used to shack their horses stood. Others were just arriving after a hard night's ride; others still were departing for pastures new. They eventually came to one of the last stables, where a team of six horses were attached to an enclosed carriage. The cart had seen better days, as had the horses, but it was going to be their ride, nonetheless.

"Ayo! You made it right on time. Ready to go whenever you are! Are you?" the carriage driver said with one long breath. He came off the carriage and dropped himself in front of Marcus and Zenna. The dwarf man hardly came up to Zenna's chest and was even more comparatively short to Marcus. His dark red beard covered most of his face and chest, as his hair covered most of his head -- in fact, you could hardly see more than his eyes. He seemed a younger man, but also had huge, muscled arms which would be better fit on someone twice his size.

"I believe we can go. Are you ready?" Marcus said, turning to Zenna.

She looked up from the dwarf man to Marcus, attempting to read anything his body language might convey, but was unable to detect anything menacing.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I am ready."

"Then we're off! To Underhill we go!" said the driver, who clambered back up the carriage, but looked back once more at the elf, "blue hair, huh? Never seen that before."

Marcus opened the door and ushered Zenna inside, closing it behind them. The carriage contained hardly more than two bench seats facing each other, and a small cabinet for eating.

Marcus sat down and pounded the roof twice. The driver heard the signal and let out a loud "Yahh!" and rapped the reigns. The horses jerked the carriage forward, and they were off.

Taking off his sword and his sack, Marcus settled in, facing the direction of the front of the carriage. Zenna looked from whence they came. He looked back out the window once more as the town slipped away.

"Not going to miss the place, are you?" he asked Zenna jokingly. She did not seem to get it and kept staring out the window. The seat was uncomfortable around her bulging form, seemingly made from wood despite its fabric material. It took her many tries to finally become mildly comfortable, but each bump of the carriage still resonated through her.

Marcus allowed her a few minutes to settle into the ride before speaking,

"May as well get settled in, you know. It takes about a week's time to Underhill," he leaned in closer to her head, "I promised you answers once we were on the carriage, and..." he motioned around, "...here we are. I'm sure you're still apprehensive about the situation, so I'll sit here until you hit me with some questions, alright?"

There was no immediate response. Marcus leaned back against the thin cushion of the seat, attempting to become as comfortable as he possibly could. It also took him many tries to become comfortable.

The silence hung over them like a lead weight for nearly a half hour, so Marcus decided to cut the tension, as she clearly would not.

"Look, I can only imagine how this all seems to you, and I can figure you're scared, nervous, or just don't know what to think. But believe me when I say that when this is all over, you will be the one helping me. If you want answers, you are going to need to warm up and ask some questions. I'll be here until you do."

Without meeting his gaze, she coldly asked, "who are you?"

Marcus threw his hands up, a grin growing across his face, "she speaks! Wonderful. I am Marcus Throydill. Husband of Nya, father of Marcelli and Gennaro. A knight to the kingdom of Underhill, and servant to my king, Lord Trinas."

"You are married? What would your wife say to your new sex slave?"

The smile quickly slid off the man's face, "gods, no, sorry, I guess it does seem that you are under that impression. No, you are not to be anybody's slave -- in fact, when we reach our destination and you see our predicament, it is up to you whether you want to stick around or not. I'll not force you into anything."

"Not like I have much choice if I decide to leave; I could not return home if I wanted, the raiders burned it all down. Everyone I have ever known is either dead or enslaved elsewhere. Like it or not, you are stuck with me, knight."

Marcus grimaced against her bristling voice. He wanted to offer comfort to her words, but really, she was completely right. It began to dawn on him that she was his full responsibility, the gravity of the situation becoming apparent rapidly.

"I don't believe there is anything I could do about that. I truly am sorry, Zenna, but I do believe our paths were meant to cross."

"What do you mean!?" the elf flashed with anger, "what do you even need me for?"

Zenna was speaking more freely now and looked up to meet Marcus' eyes. He was stunned at her quick change in demeanor from reserved to responsive. The flames of her eyes almost seemed to swirl as her temper flared in equal measure, commanding him to speak.

"May as well get comfortable. I have been sent on a mission by my king, Trinas, and have been away from home for about two years."

"That does not answer my question, knight," she scoffed. A ferocious temper apparently slumbered within her shy disposition, awaiting release.

"Again, I'll ask you to get comfortable, because this is a long one," the knight gathered his breath.

"About 10 years ago, our kingdom was in the final days of war against the neighboring kingdom of Sunborng. We were winning handily, thanks to our superior-sized army and experienced leaders. Sunborng attacked us first, unhappy that they had to live in our shadow. They were fools to think they had a chance."

The elf leaned back as she listened, staring sourly at the knight, those fiery eyes of hers wanting to burn him where he sat.

"We were approaching their capital city, hoping for them to make an easy surrender. We raided the castle, and I was a part of the initial charge. I had proven myself during that war and was highly trusted among my superiors as a dependable soldier. The men defending the capitol were weak and inexperienced; they were likely the remaining soldiers after we had decimated their armies. They fell quickly."

All men ever spoke of was battle, warfare, and the honor they felt by waging it. Even with her heart laced with hate, even the very thought of harming a fly tore her soul in two, let alone another being. Her father was a warrior, a proud man who fought in service of his people, as Marcus had. He had raised his sons to be warriors also, strong men willing to defend their lives, wives, and homes. He had raised his daughters to be proud women, resilient and able to take care of themselves, but also able to know the proper way to raise families of their own.

He did not raise Zenna, his youngest, at all. He hated her almost as much as she hated herself.

"Fighting our way through the city, we reached the castle. I fought through many floors of soldiers, hardly old enough to be called men, and reached the throne room. The last of the king's forces surrounded him, but we cut them down after they refused surrender. We took the throne room and the enemy king stood, my sword through his gullet, hands out to the sky, and proclaimed --

'Lords of this world -- hear my plea -- I sacrifice myself in the name of my kingdom, that the scoundrels of Underhill will never again see a new generation grace their lands, dooming them for eternity!'

"...and as he finished his speech, I pulled my blade from his body, dead before he hit the ground. My king came riding in, congratulating each of us on a job well done, promising wealth and lands to any man who had shone his valor."

Zenna envisioned his words, but his tales of such valor interested her little, "so what does this have to do with me?"

Marcus cleared his throat, "the dead king's words came to pass. I am not sure who was listening to him that day, but someone clearly was, and our entire kingdom came under his curse. Since that day, there have been no children born to any woman of our Kingdom."

The entirety of her attention was immediately grabbed by the gravity of the knight's words, rattling through her mind in disbelief.

"What... what do you mean? Everyone stopped having children?"

Marcus sighed, "months, or maybe a year after that battle, we started receiving reports from our hospitals that women were concerned about not being pregnant, even after multiple attempts with their husband. As the number of reports grew, we investigated the issue, but those of us in the throne room that day remembered the dying king's words, echoing through our minds."

He paused and shifted.

"It would seem that the curse makes it impossible for a woman to become pregnant. The curse seeped into their wombs, corrupting them, almost like a barrier placed around the eggs within her body. Husband and wife can try for days on end, but nothing would come of it. The woman would never become pregnant."

"How...how does that even happen?"

"Some sort of dark magic. We consulted every medicine man and sorcerer in the kingdom, but none had ever seen anything like it. It was maddening, and people became desperate. This went on for months before an old sage claimed to have received a vision. In this vision, she had been told that only the most... umm..."

Marcus paused, unsure how to phrase his words.

"...the most 'powerful' man could break through this curse, and allow a woman to become pregnant, by that man, or anyone else.

As his words sunk in, Zenna began to get a chill up her spine, "s-so... this inevitably led to...?"

"Our king, having exhausted all other options, opened the floodgates. He offered nearly anything material that could be given, to any man who was able to create a child within our Kingdom. Men flocked from all over the continent, trying their 'hand' if you will, within the brothels, whorehouses, and with any woman who was willing. Any shape or size of man came to us, any race too! Humans, orcs, elves, dwarves, even some... actually, you don't want to hear about that."

Zenna was now equally enthralled and distressed, her pounding heart began to fill her ears, "and then...?"

"They all failed. The biggest boasters to the smallest of farmhands, they all failed. It seemed that the curse would never be broken. No man was 'powerful' enough to break through that barrier. In one last resort, the king sent out a dozen or so of his finest men to scour the lands, far, far away from Underhill, in search of any trace or whisper of any being that could have a chance of shattering the curse."

Her feet shifted on the carriage floor, "s-so that is where you come in?"

"Precisely. I was one of those dozen men, sent away from his home and his family to serve his kingdom. I have been through six different countries and nearly every town they contain. I chased every little story I could find, and they all turned up with nothing. Just empty promises and tall tales, fables passed through lips from one to another. I had almost given up, convinced that no such being existed... that is, until I found you."

Zenna swallowed loudly. She sat shaky; her heartbeat was audible even to Marcus. Struggling to find words to speak, Marcus decided it best to allow her the time to process this. She searched his eyes, looking for any evidence that he was lying. She found nothing.

Panic setting in, "so...y-y-you want me to...?"

"I believe you are the only being capable of breaking the curse, Zenna."

"But what makes you think that I can..."

"I eavesdropped on your little 'session' last night. I was quite impressed."

"You...!" her face became a mix of anger and embarrassment, and she reddened.

"At first, I was not certain I made the right choice. I tried endlessly to convince myself that I was wrong, that I made a mistake by...with, you. You are an elf. You are a woman. You are also the strangest creature I have ever encountered. But... you convinced me last night that you are the one hope I have left. The one hope Underhill has left."

"So...so you were wrong! Y-you have to be wrong!"

"I no longer believe I am wrong, I need your help, Zenna. You are my only hope."

"But...how can I...!"

"I want you to save my kingdom by impregnating as many women in Underhill as you can, Zenna."

"I..."

Blood pounded through her ears, deafening her. She wanted to say no, to call the man crazy, to say he was deranged, to say anything that would make him feel disgusted with her. But she could not do it. Something deep within her strangled her words. Zenna brought her hands up to her face to shut out as many senses as possible.

The soft rolling of the carriage was the only feeling the pair experienced, as minutes went by in uncomfortable silence, only perforated by her shuddering and crying.

Marcus felt terrible, but she had to know the truth. He leaned out to Zenna, placing a hand on her knee.

"I know this must all sound insane to you, but I promised you answers, and I swear to you that this is true. Something caused our paths to converge, and it was not without purpose. I do believe that you, truly, were born for this role."

Not removing her hands from her face, "I... I just...cannot .... it... it's too much to take in... you're insane... I don't... want that... I'm not.. a..." she shuddered, unable to speak further her face fell into her chest.

He knew she would react this way, but he had little choice aside from just throwing the truth on her. Removing his hand from her knee, he only wished he had another way to comfort the girl but found nothing.

"I can only imagine. Take all the time you want; I am going to get a little sleep. I recommend you do the same, it will be a couple days until we reach a town to resupply." Marcus adjusted his body longways along the bench, hoping for rest.

After sobbing for a bit more, Zenna wiped tears from her eyes and followed his lead, procuring a blanket from the carriage and lying down as well.

At the very edge of her sleep, she mumbled,

"...so that's all I am to you, just a thing to be used... you're all the same..."

"Sorry?" Marcus said, on the verge of sleep himself, not having caught her words. She had already fallen asleep. He soon followed.

It was not a restful night for either of them.

...

Over the next day or so, they hardly spoke. Marcus would occasionally try to start a conversation, but it would be one-sided. She was uninterested in anything he had to say, and spent her time looking out the window. The mind resting under her blue locks never ceased, however, and she contemplated escape every time Marcus slumbered, but could not bring herself to do it. She often sat with her arms wrapped around her legs resting on the bench, feeling as if Marcus would try to do something to her.

About halfway through their journey they stopped in a small village to resupply and get a more adequate meal.