Zar Ch. 04: King and Queen

Zar sacrifices one eye to gain another, and enters Tordunh, the underworld.

*

The Valra set sail at first light, and Zar watched as the sun rose over Saruz. "Farewell, Jien," she whispered. Then, in the privacy of a tiny cabin with a hard, dirty bed and barely enough room to stand, a small shuttered window to let light and air in, she found the time and peace to wash herself at last, cleaning away the residue of the night's adventure.

And to study the vile breastplate that she hated already. Beautiful though the silver-scaled corset was, its constriction about her waist was fierce, as if in permanent reminder that she had displeased the goddess. Worse, though, was the way it emphasised her breasts, supporting them and firming them without in any way concealing their individual contours - except for her nipples that, no matter how hard they pressed against the inside of the silver corset, made no impression on the outside.

Unlike any armour fashioned by men, the silver breastplate was part of her, even more so than the moonsilver chastity belt. As if the metal were her skin, she could feel the slightest caress against it, or the gentlest kiss. But also, delicate though it looked, the armour was effective, dismissing the blade of her knife and resisting her attempts to feel more than a whisper of fingertips across her hidden nipples.

With an irritated sigh, Zar curled up on the too small bed, and struggled to find a comfortable position. The left cheek of her ass was still sore where the Goddess had spanked her, but the discomfort eased for a while whenever she massaged it. In time, the creaking timbers lulled her to sleep.

For two weeks the Valra sailed from port to port, visiting the major islands, dropping off chests of food and casks of wine, taking on bales of silk and barrels of oil. The skies were clear, the winds fair, and the voyage without major incident. The food, on the other hand, was dry and tasteless, the quarters cramped, and the company rude. Zar was surrounded by men who leered openly at her prominent breasts, and the more they did so, the sharper became the memory of the Goddess's hand, and the greater the temptation to massage that lingering injury. A few times she caught herself doing it unconsciously, her skirt half-lifted, to the watchers' delight.

She was relieved to disembark at last at Dalna, the outermost inhabited island in the group, but her destination was one further: "Then to the Isle of Arae, Doom of Sailors, for the Eye of K'Dunhe," the seer had said.

Arae was little more than a rock, small enough to pass unnoticed in a storm, but on a good day visible from Dalna. On the isle was a cave, K'Dunhe, rumoured to be one of the ten entrances to the underworld - but none knew for sure, for the island was home to sirens whose seductive enchantments proved fatal to all unwary enough to stray close. Or so it was said.

No one would dare to take Zar there... but given a simple raft and a calm enough sea, any fool could make the crossing. Sometimes the rafts even came back.

Of greater concern to Zar were the posters from the Temple of Veshla, offering a reward of one thousand crowns. "Thief!" the letters screamed; and the sketch, she had to admit, was a good likeness. Certainly there were others who thought so.

*

The sun was setting, a crimson glory extinguished by the ocean, as Zar approached the Isle of Arae. Long before she was close enough to glimpse the three maidens, bare and beautiful beyond comparison, their long tresses bright and restless like curls of flame, she heard their song. Half-heard fragments of song that she strived to hear better above the whispering wind in her ears and the breaking waves.

Something in their voices stirred the hunger in her, that aching need to be touched. Even knowing the danger that awaited, all that mattered was seeing those women, getting her hands on them. Her hands itched to feel their perfect breasts. She licked her lips in anticipation of kissing their delicate lips and sucking on their prominent nipples. She would spread their legs and gorge on lustral pleasure, and her tongue would taste the forbidden sweetness of their asses.

By the time she was close enough to wade, she was dizzy with lust. Discarding the raft without a second thought, she rushed to the shore. Though the rock was barren, the air was fragrant with jasmine, the exquisite perfume of the three women that danced and laughed so joyously. Zar laughed too as she tried to catch them and they pirouetted out of reach. Still, some memory of her purpose lingered, and she knew she had to get away from the maids, that their magic could doom even her. She strode past them, climbing the slope to the mouth of the cave

But her need was too great. Sitting with her back to a rock, she attacked her corset and belt with her fingers, trying desperately to excite her swollen nipples or appease the throbbing urgency below. The three maids sang to her, promising an eternity of blissful ecstasy, beseeching her to hurry, and Zar screamed with frustration as the moonsilver denied her, and Veshla's breastplate turned her efforts into a teasing torture.

Whimpering, she crawled higher, the cave within sight - and something else too. Something remarkable. Like a man, he was. Indeed, like a king, for he wore an iron crown, but he was twice the size of a man, or at least in body and limb he was twice as thick, and the cock that projected erect, almost vertically, was an answer to her prayers.

Squatting over the stone figure, she eased down onto that cock. As smooth and hard as marble it was, and as cold too, but to feel it in her, stretching her ass so painfully she screamed as the thick head finally penetrated the tight ring of muscle, was bliss indeed. Again and again she drove herself down onto it, fucking herself with that stone phallus. Around her the maids danced, urging her to an end, to that exquisite pleasure that meant surrender.

But it still wasn't enough! - until it was all too much. Zar slumped, defeated, sobbing miserably because she had been cursed.

Agitated, the sirens' dance faltered, and their song lost its harmony. As the spell lost its coherence, Zar recovered her senses slowly. Dismissing her tears with a laugh, she stood and faced the sirens. Their human aspect no longer convinced or enticed her, and they snarled angrily, threatening her with razor-sharp teeth but keeping their distance.

She looked down at the stone figure, and realised she had discovered the answer to a riddle. "Then to the Isle of Arae, Doom of Sailors, for the Eye of K'Dunhe," the old seer had said, which had been clear enough, but the seer had added, more enigmatically: "and take the Troll King's cock to Lliria."

Surely this iron-crowned statue could be none other than the Troll King. Taking the Dawn Blade from its sheath, and muttering an apology to the petrified king, Zar severed the stone cock at the base, and wrapped it reverently in cloth.

*

"The Eye of K'Dunhe," Sister Palwe had announced, armed with a dozen ancient scrolls, "is the twilight eye. It watches from the West, from beneath the setting sun, where it resides in darkness and in light, seeing all. The Sage of Baru'Jei, who claimed the dawn eye in the East, sacrificed his own eye to do so. 'A man may only possess two eyes,' he wrote. 'To gain one, he must first give one away.' It was said that he could see the dreams of other men as if they were his own."

To Zar that seemed like a particularly useless ability, but the Seer had led her here for a purpose. The Eye itself was a fiery red orb suspended midair within the cave, K'Dunhe. It burned or tore apart anything that touched it, so that there was no way to take it away.

No. It required sacrifice. An eye, for an eye.

Lacking wisdom, Zar did the only thing she could think to do. She stood eye-to-eye with the blazing orb, blinking furiously. Taking a last ragged, terrified breath, Zar uttered a prayer to the Goddess - and stepped forward.

She screamed as light and pain tore her mind apart - then all was dark.

*

How long she was unconscious, Zar could not guess, but her limbs were achingly cold and cramped, and there was dry blood flaking from her cheek and around her sacrificed eye. She struggled to a sitting position, but lacked the courage to open both eyes, and instead peered about her through the old, dominant right.

It was morning out there, the mouth of K'Dunhe looking straight out at the eastern sky. The autumn sun was cool yet, but welcome nonetheless and Zar stretched her legs out to soak in its rays. Gradually, though, she began to feel more normal. Snatches of desultory song echoed about the cave from time to time, but the sirens' seductive enchantment no longer stirred her soul.

Standing awkwardly, Zar stumbled over to the entrance, and with a wince of anticipated pain she opened her left eye. And - it didn't hurt, but nor did it work like the other. Out of her right - her human eye - she saw the world as a grand canvas of colour, the intense blues of the sky and sea, the green of the seaweed on the grey, granite rock, the bright scarlet of the sirens' flaming hair.

The world her left eye saw was no more than a sketch, edges against black nothing. The sharper the edge, the brighter the line. The Dawn Blade, when drawn, was edged with brilliance. She studied her reflected eyes in its polished surface, the chestnut brown of the old, the emerald and silver of the new.

"So, you have taken the Eye." The voice was deep and rumbling, but not threatening. Zar turned to see the Troll King, his aura rich with life.

"I thought you were dead."

"As good as. A hundred years I've been the prisoner of those accursed maids."

"I'm sorry about your..." She trailed off.

The Troll King shrugged. "I heard the sirens' song and lived. Few are so fortunate. Besides, what was lost will grow again in time. Who knows, I may even be blessed with a mightier weapon!" He roared with laughter and the joy of life. "I am Bdagr."

"Zar."

"You have my gratitude, Zar, though there is little I can do now."

"I would be grateful for a way off this rock," she said. "I have no raft, and no ship will come close. I do not fancy my chances swimming, not with what I must carry." That and the certainty of a cold reception, should she get back again to Dalna.

"I know of one path," Bdagr said, "through the depths of this world. It is a treacherous path indeed, but if you are determined it will take you to Lliria - and on to other places too, I've heard."

Zar laughed. "It is to Lliria I must go. I will brave this dark path, if you will guide me."

"I'll take you to the river," he said, "but then we must part ways."

*

"Follow the river upstream," Bdagr had said, having led her deep into the ground through a maze of caverns bright with sharp edges. "Always against the flow, or you will be lost, carried away forever. And never cross. No matter what you see there. To set foot in Tordunh is to surrender to Death. Forget the tales of heroes. There is no escape."

The temptation was there, though. The narrow bank, edged with sharp rocks and treacherous boulders, was black shadow to her right eye, but crystal clear to her left. Still, she eyed the well trodden path across the water wistfully. As Zar crept along like a spider in the dark, she heard snatches of song and voices raised in celebration. When she was forced to wade for a while, sinuous shapes swarming about her ankles, their violet auras sinister, she heard joyous laughter and saw torches burning in the distance.

But she heeded the Troll King's advice and stayed on the left. "Zar?" a voice called from the right. "Oh, my sweet Zar!"

Zar had only the most distant memory of her mother. She had died when Zar was a child, and had been ill for a long time before. Now her shade - if it were truly her - stood bathed in light, surrounded by a garden of riotous life and vibrant colour. "How you have grown, my beloved child. Is it so long since I left you?"

"Fifteen years, Mother." Zar sighed. This was a cruel trick indeed. How many nights she had lain awake, yearning to feel her mother's arms about her again.

"Will you not come to me, Zar? Will you not let me embrace you?"

"I'm sorry, Mother. Not today." She forced herself to continue, along the dark bank, her mother's grieving wails echoing across the whispering water, tearing into her soul.

Zar came to a narrowing of the river, the left bank disappearing entirely. She feared she had missed the stairs somehow, and considered retracing her steps - but that would have meant following the river downstream, against Bdagr's stern advice.

No, the only choice was forward, braving the dark river. Steeling herself, and holding her pack high to keep it from the water, she eased in, until it was above her waist, cool but not bitter. Up ahead in the distance she spied a distinctive striation, stairs perhaps. And they were on the left, a sign that filled her with hope as she waded towards them against the strong current.

Something long, powerful, serpentine, brushed against her bare thigh. Another swam through her legs and a third nudged against her chastity belt. De'els, guardians of the underworld. Soon they were swarming about her, slimy and curious, and clustered increasingly about her waist and thighs. Like unwanted fingers trying to do what her own had attempted so often: to breach the belt. But the moonsilver defeated them, just as it had always defeated her.

Zar strode through the water with determination, grateful again for the belt's protection. But denied the one entrance, the de'els sought out the other, pushing between her cheeks and pressing against her unshielded ass. "Oh no!" she said, though a guilty worm of excitement stirred within her.

The first to penetrate was slender, but the shock of it almost caused Zar to fall, which would no doubt have sealed her fate. She struggled on, trying to ignore their invasions, even as she sensed their malicious, mocking intent. They wanted her to fail, and to be claimed forever by them, and they fought over her as if it were a game to see how deeply she could be penetrated.

Zar cried out as two thrust in together, coiling about each other, corkscrewing ever deeper, then slipping away. Her initial horror at this abuse yielded to an unwilling pleasure. It was difficult not to think of them as cocks, and to have so many cocks fighting over her ass... it was almost a fantasy become true. The temptation to part her thighs and open herself fully to them almost brought her to a halt.

But she continued on, the stairs drawing ever nearer. Thicker and thicker the invading de'els became, as if frantic to stop her. They punched into her, driving deep, stretching her enough to make her gasp, the friction exciting her nerves until her legs threatened to give way beneath her. "No," she hissed, forcing herself onwards.

The river widened, shallowing out, the water level dropping below her waist at last. She waded towards the left bank with relief, while around her the de'els splashed furiously. She was free of them at last - but abruptly they raced away, and Zar spied another, swimming deep, monstrously long and indigo with ancient malevolence.

Zar threw her pack onto the river bank and hurried after, only for her foot to be snared. She crashed into the water, flailing desperately for purchase, and snatched hold of her sword, even as she was penetrated once more, the huge head of the de'el stretching her impossibly as it forced its way in. She screamed, from the pain of it, from the pleasure of it, and almost let go of her weapon.

It was her lifeline. The scabbard had hooked onto something, and it held her within reach of safety, but the creature battering at her rear overwhelmed her. And it seemed determined to go deep, thrusting into her bit by bit, each movement a scream of sensation. To her horror, it pushed her over the edge, her body convulsing in helpless ecstasy, and the monster's aura turned to one of triumphant gloating.

"No!" Zar cried, denying it. With her last reserve of strength, she succeeded in drawing the Dawn Blade free of the sheath, and, with a frantic backwards slash into the dark river, severed head from tail. The de'el's great body recoiled through the water, its violent death dance spectacular but short.

Zar crashed onto the bank, exhausted, one hand plucking weakly at the twitching de'el's head still buried within her, until it slipped free at last. As she lay on the sharp rocks panting, recovering, she had never felt so empty.

*

Shaking with fatigue, and dizzy from need for water, Zar emerged at last into bright sunshine. The narrow, winding, treacherous stairs had opened out into a natural cave formation, with a well used path up to an open mouth. There, at the summit of a hill, she stood overlooking grassy slopes and what she guessed was a temple. Further away, the sea glittered in the bright sunlight.

Of people there was no sign, but as she stumbled wearily into the temple and fell to her knees gratefully beside a natural spring, she had the sense that she was being watched.

She could see no one, though, and lacked the strength to explore. Intending only to rest a minute, Zar closed her eyes, human and magical both, and within the space of three heartbeats surrendered to unconsciousness.

*

It was early morning when Zar awoke. Though the room was dark, shuttered against the light of the rising sun, the chatter and song of birds was loud and welcome after her journey through the oppressive depths. She was startled to find herself in a bed, small but sufficient and certainly an improvement over the wooden cot aboard the ship.

Whoever had carried her there had undressed her - apart, of course, for her moonsilver chastity belt and the silver corset - and washed her too. Her body aching from its exertions of her underworld venture, Zar forced herself to her feet and stood for a moment idly massaging the all too familiar pain in her left ass cheek. Weeks had passed since the temple, and still she felt the echo of the Goddess's hand.

She felt bruised inside and out, and particularly tender from the de'els' horrifying abuse of her - she'd come so hard, though, to her eternal shame. It was one thing to ride a man's cock, but to be a plaything of malevolent, inhuman creatures? Why did the memory of it stir such an obscene, itching desire for more?

Her clothes and bag were by the bed, and dry, but of her sword there was no sign. It was unsurprising, but also alarming. Zar needed the Dawn Blade to complete her mission. She dressed quickly and checked the contents of the bag. Everything was there.

Two warrior women stood guard outside the door. They were tall and well muscled in a way that Zar could only envy. Both had short hair, the younger one blonde, the older one dark, and wore bronze-plated leather armour. They had an air of wary curiosity about them rather than danger.

"Where's my sword?" Zar asked.

"The Queen will give it to you," the older one said.

"If she doesn't use it to take your head first," the younger added.

They led her through marble hallways and into a temple with a spring that Zar recalled seeing. What she hadn't noticed before was the statue of Ulaxr, sister of Uxur. "Not for nothing is she worshipped in Lliria," Katarra had said, and Zar's eyes were drawn to the Goddess's crotch - where, indeed, the root of a now-severed cock remained.

"Yes," a new voice said, and Zar turned to see a white-robed warrior with a silver coronet. "We remember the truth of Ulaxr on Lliria. When Dar-Gratt betrayed Uxur and took the golden cock for himself, Ulaxr came here to grieve in solitude. Her warrior-maids followed her, of course, and we've lived here ever since. This is a sacred isle. No stranger may set foot here without permission. The penalty is death."