The Dark Lord's Commands

by M. E. Thorne

  “Let’s go,” I waved for the others to join me, “I think we’re about to witness the beginning of the end of Sanderson’s little kingdom.”

  Chapter 22

  I had never seen Sanderson before, but I knew his type. The moribund tyrant, who sat comfortably at the center of a web of influence, growing fat and rich on bribes, kickbacks, and power. I had encountered enough of that type while working in politics, but he certainly set the mold for their kind of narcissistic evil.

  He had abandoned his sedan chair and instead paced before the remaining soldiers, who had been quickly gathered from their posts for an unexpected dress-down. Heavily armed Luminark troopers, those still loyal to the foreman, stood watch over the rest, keeping them corralled while their boss screamed and ranted at them.

  I couldn’t hear his words, we were too far away, but I imagined they were scathing indictments of his forces. The flailing limbs and stomping feet indicated he was on a roll.

  “He actually looks thinner,” Nichessa mused, as she took a turn with the spyglass. We had gathered on a nearby hilltop to watch the scene.

  “I probably wouldn’t be eating much either, if I thought that a dragon was coming to destroy the corrupt kingdom I’d built on the back of slaves,” I muttered, squinting.

  For all his cruelty and corruption, Sanderson wasn’t much to look at, just an old man in a fancy coat two sizes too small for him. A thick, shock of white and grey hair ran along the sides of his otherwise bald head, and his figure gave me the strong impression of a hardboiled egg with a set of tiny arms and legs attached.

  “What is he waving around?” I borrowed the spyglass. “Is that a weapon?”

  “He brought out the Spear of Subjugation?” Nichessa chuckled, “He must be really pissed if he busted out that antique.”

  “A Spear of Subjugation?” Vexile seemed aghast.

  “Don’t worry,” the blacksmith told her, “I’m sure it’s a fake. I’ve never seen it up close, myself, but there’s no way in hell that bastard has one, right? It’s got to be a phony.”

  “What’s a Spear of Subjugation?” I asked Vexile.

  “They’re artifact weapons, created by the very first Light Lord, blessed by the power of Alruna,” she answered, still looking pale. “They’re designed to kill ascendants of Revina, by burning away their impurities with its pure, holy light,” she quoted.

  “See, it’s a fake,” Nichessa asserted. “There’s a Dark Lord and two ascendants right here, and it isn’t doing shit. Trust me, there’s no way in hell a bastard like Sanderson would have a real one in his pudgy mitts. I’m sure all the real Spears are locked up back in the empire; he just bought himself a copy to impress his lackeys and frighten the prisoners. Trust me, he pulls it out when he really wants to lay into someone and put the fear of his goddess into them.”

  As Sanderson howled and screamed, it became evident that the troops that had fled earlier hadn’t done so with his orders or even permission. They had gone AWOL, fleeing with whatever they could grab before heading south.

  “Garnet,” I called her over. “How long would it take someone leaving from here to reach the Luminark naval base?”

  “If they stick to the coastal paths and don’t go overland?” She furrowed her brow, thinking, “I would say it would take three days, maybe two if they push hard, to reach Marshul and the landbridge. The naval base is another two days from there, Dark Lord.”

  I nodded, “So four to five days out, then the same count to return?”

  “If a bunch of deserters show up at the naval base, claiming the mine is overrun by dragons, the empire is sure to send the inquisition to investigate,” Vexile said. “This is not the kind of thing Sanderson’s wealth and influence can suppress.”

  Knowing how bureaucracy works, we’ll have plenty of time before anyone comes to investigate, I told myself. But that wasn’t the message I wanted to give our party; we needed to act quickly.

  “Then we have eight days,” I declared. “Before then, we will free the prisoners and reduce this place to a burnt ruin, a warning to all Luminark oppressors that this land will tolerate them no longer.”

  Reaching for the bardic strapped to my hip, I retreated down the hill a few meters, then raised the megaphone to my lips. The dragon’s roar that went out resounded against the clear, cloudless sky. Vexile picked up her megaphone and added its call to my own. Nichessa placed her hands against the ground, and a faint tremble ran through the earth, causing bits of rock and dirt to cascade down its slopes.

  On the other side of the hill, I heard Sanderson’s tirade devolve into a riot of fear.

  Peeking back up, we watched as the Luminark troops scrambled, some searching for hiding places while those loyal to the foreman tried to organize a party to ride out and find the beasts that had been terrorizing them. Sanderson, for his part, seemed stupified by the dragons’ appearance during the daytime, his face wide and jaw slack as he peered at the foothills, as if he could almost spot the imaginary foes.

  That night, we made no move against the Luminark, content to let them stew in their fear and to give more deserters a chance to flee. Garnet and her handful of soldiers kept watch along the southern foothills, counting the number of Luminark troopers running from Sanderson’s banner. I worked with my queens to produce more bombs, enough to torch the entire camp.

  Early the next morning, Nichessa announced that we would need to clear out her house because she planned to seal it shut. “I don’t want some grubby church inquisitor or some Luminark investigator going through my things,” she stated firmly. “We’ll take what we can use, then I’ll bury the rest.”

  She asked for a few minutes of privacy, once we arrived.

  “I’ve lived here, on my own, for twenty years,” she stated, her expression clouded. “If anywhere in this world could be considered my home, it would be this place.” She raised a hand, “I know, I know, you’re going to tell me that Gloomglow will grow to be my new home and that I will come to love it, blah, blah blah.”

  “I was going to say that,” I admitted.

  “But give me a few minutes,” the blacksmith said. “Just let me mentally pack up everything, then we can take care of all the physical stuff.”

  As asked, we gave her some space, resting on the hillside not far from the ruins.

  “Do you think she’ll be okay?” Vexile asked, the tip of her tail flicking at a small rock, rolling it back and forth. “You know as well as anyone how difficult it is to give up your home, even for a chance at a better life.”

  I nodded. I knew the feeling well; even though there was little to miss of my life back on Earth, I still found myself occasionally mourning my parents, dead almost a decade, or the little friendships and camaraderie I’d built up over the years. Sometimes, though I’d never tell my wives, I even thought of Franny, wondering how she was doing.

  We gave Nichessa about an hour before I decided to check on her. Moving into the ruins and towards her shelter, I found her in the forge room, busily rearranging the boxes, organizing them based upon some system only she could understand.

  I made no effort to hide my footsteps, but rather I glided up behind her, placing my arm up and around her waist. “Can I help?”

  She paused, two boxes in hand, before shaking her head. “No, but thanks. I’m just trying to sort out what we can use now, and what can be left to retrieve later.”

  The now pile mostly consisted of weapons and armor. Nichessa insisted I go through it, picking out pieces that would fit me, along with a weapon. I ended up with a breastplate, greaves, and arm guards, which she said she’d fit for me properly.

  “Vexile will need something too,” she said, sorting through a pile of armor that had been made for her former stature. Even then, they were way too large for my other wife.

  “I’m glad to see you two get along so well,” I told her.

  I had been worried, at first, that my two queens would see each other as rivals, but instead, the two had worked
together, focusing on our mission and saving the prisoners in the camp.

  Nichessa paused, then huffed, “Of course, who do you think we are, two housewives, fighting over the same man? We are queens, and we will act like it.” She picked up a helmet, considered it, then tossed it aside.

  More gently, she said, “Besides, I really do like her, she’s a good person. Our situation might be complicated, but I don’t think she, or you, would ever do anything to intentionally hurt me.” She gave me a small smile, “Honesty and communication, right?”

  Shortly thereafter, she went outside and summoned the rest of our group. As the soldiers picked out gear for themselves, Nichessa fired up her forge, determined that they would have the best equipment possible for our final attack on the labor camp.

  Vexile, who had yet to see the blacksmith’s new, magical skills, was immediately impressed by Nichessa’s ability to reshape and mold metal to her will.

  “Truly, a blessing from Revina,” she said with awe.

  Finishing with the first group of soldiers, Nichessa dismissed them to go relieve the ones out in the field, so they could come and get equipped as well.

  “And hurry,” she commanded them, “I want to give Sanderson a real show! He’s indirectly responsible for making me the blacksmith that I am today, so I intend to repay him in full!”

  By the time the forge flames finally died down, Garnet and her soldiers had been loaded for bear, with new armor and weapons. Nichessa tried to get me to take a sword, but I knew I’d be better served by sticking with my crossbow. I finally relented and took a dagger for self-defense at her insistence. She had customized my armor as well, stylizing the plates with sweeping starfields, each star represented by a small crystal. Combining that with my dark mantle, I cut a truly regal, battle-ready figure.

  “Like the Dark Lords of legend,” Vexile murmured, admiring my new battledress.

  After a bit of work, Nichessa had provided the First Queen with her own customized armor; a light cuirass that was embossed with curling serpents. She had also forged a series of light, overlapping plates and straps that could be used to protect her spine and tail.

  “It’s not too heavy?” Nichessa asked as we tightened the last buckle.

  “It’s perfect,” Vexile nodded, as she experimentally slithered side to side.

  Nichessa nodded, satisfied. “I could make you a spear as well, I think it would suit you.”

  “When we return to Gloomglow, I shall take you up on that offer,” Vexile said, before looking thoughtful, “Maybe I should also ask Dougherty for some weapons lessons?”

  I kissed her on the cheek, then did the same to Nichessa. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea. All of us should receive combat training.”

  Satisfied that everything was packed, the soldiers headed back towards our camp, while Nichessa boxed the items to be stored. Vexile spoke briefly with the blacksmith, then departed, heading towards our original camp to retrieve Marl and our crawlclaws.

  “I’ll collapse the exit and bury the ruins under a pile of rock and dirt,” Nichessa said, as she stared into the dying embers of the forge. “I’ll have to do the same for my other safe houses, and my smelter, before we depart for Gloomglow.”

  As her last act, she reached up and grabbed the mounted gauntlets, carefully placing them in crates full of straw.

  “You probably think I’m silly,” she said slowly, “taking these things with me.”

  “Not at all,” I assured her, coming over to help box up the prosthetics. “These are proof of your strength and ingenuity, of what you overcame to become the woman, and the queen, that you are now.”

  “I made my first pair only weeks after my escape,” she said, holding up the crude gauntlets, “I put these together using stolen scrap from the Luminark’s garbage dump, I remember bending bits of metal using my teeth since I couldn’t hold the parts tight enough in my fingers.” She put them away, and pulled down the next prosthetic, “This is the first thing I made using my forge.”

  I laid a hand on her shoulder, “And it won’t be the last. We will come back here, I swear it. Someday, this mine will be reopened, and you can forge the first bar of black iron it produces.”

  “The first mine of Duskhaven?” she smiled.

  I nodded. “I meant it when I said it, we will rebuild this kingdom. And I can only do that with your help, and Vexile’s. I may be the conduit for the goddess’s power, but the queens are that power made manifest.”

  “You always know how to say the sweetest things,” she laughed, packing away the last of the gauntlets. She lifted the box, then set it by the door.

  I peered around the slightly more empty room. “Any other personal effects, like mementos, that you want to take?”

  She pointed towards a small sack, sitting next to the other crates. “That’s it, all that’s left is the bed.” Nichessa suddenly had a mischievous look on her face. “Do you want to get one last use out of it?”

  I had not expected her to be so forward, but I was also not one to turn down an intimate moment with one of my queens. Since her ascension, I had found my eyes wandering over her divinely gifted physique, and eagerly awaited a chance to be alone with her again.

  But instead of just giving in, I decided to tease her a bit. “What brings this up?”

  “I was celibate for almost twenty years,” she answered honestly, “and I think it’s about time I shake off the last of the rust.” She edged closer, her arms wrapping around me. “Besides, you feel it too, don’t you? Those sparks of lust that run up your spine when we’re in the same room together?”

  I couldn’t deny it.

  “Vexile feels it too,” she added, as she pulled me towards her bedroom door. “When I ascended, I felt like my entire body was reforged, tempered in cosmic flames. I can still feel an echo of that when I’m close to you, and I want to feel that again.”

  She guided me to sit on the bed, as she placed her upper arms against my shoulders. “You want to feel it again, too, don’t you, that primal connection, of being reborn?”

  We kissed, our lips sealing against one another as she leaned into me, pushing me onto the bed. She used her lower arms to brace herself above me, even as her upper hands ran through my hair, her rough nails playing across my scalp.

  I grabbed onto her lower wrists, then let my hands drift up her arms, feeling the inhumanly strong muscles under her granite-tough by still smooth and soft skin.

  “I’m pleased by the armor I made you,” she said, as she sat up, “but I think it’s getting in the way, don’t you?”

  My mantle, along with the armor plate mail quickly found themselves on the floor, joined by Nichessa’s clothing. In the dim light provided by the dying forge flames, I saw that my queen had truly been remade by her ascension. Her breasts rode high on her chest, pushed up by the musculature changes needed to support her new arms. Below that ran chiseled abs over a perfectly toned stomach, her figure flaring out around her wide, stout hips. Between them, I could see a small patch of hair, which glowed the same, ember-red shade as her stony tresses.

  “If you make any jokes about that, I’ll crush your head,” she said fiercely, noticing my stare.

  Licking my lips, I placed my hands onto her hips and drew her forward, “No, but I do want to see them up close.”

  She crawled forward and I moved between her legs, my mouth only inches from her snatch. Bracing all four hands on the wall, she shook as I tentatively reached my hands around her thighs and slowly peeled back her lips, revealing her glorious pink and wet channel. I inhaled her heady aroma, then ran my tongue along the edge of her lips before angling up to tease her clit.

  She bucked and moaned, and for a second I was afraid she really would crush my head, her knees pressed tightly against my skull before she was able to calm down and relax her grip.

  “Still getting used to this,” she admitted. “I managed to break quite a few tools that first morning, before you woke up.”

  I chuckled, watchi
ng her reaction as I licked her again. “As long as you don’t break me, I think we’ll be okay.”

  Getting more comfortable, with Nichessa’s mass towering above and around me, I began to attack her in earnest, my tongue rasping against her delicate flesh or flicking along her sensitive clit. Her juices, aromatic and sweet, ran across my lips and down my chin, and I felt her body shivering and shaking each time I brought her a new jolt of pleasure.

  Twisting around, she kept one hand on the wall while another reached back, lightly stroking my member. The same broad nails, which had grazed through my hair, were now lightly skimming along my rigid flesh and drawing along the underside of my cockhead.

  Surging upward, I pressed my lips against her, my tongue thrusting into her channel even as my nose rubbed against her pearl. She screamed in pleasure, my mouth flooding with her nectar as she came.

  “Robert!” she cried, hips rolling and grinding into my face.

  At that moment, her body unmade by pleasure, I could once again feel that cosmic connection.

  She released her hold on the wall and pulled back, giving me a moment to breathe. Shifting her position, she turned around, placing her hips over my head while her face was only centimeters from my cock.

  “It’s not fair,” she huffed, “for you to have all the fun.”

  She dipped down, her mouth wet and hungry as she swallowed the tip of my cock, her tongue running roughly over my glans.

  Her pussy was hanging just over my face, so I went back at it, this time from the reverse angle. My tongue lapped from her clit to the bottom of her slit, slithering in and out of her folds. My fingers joined in on the action, and I reached for her G-spot, running my fingertips across that bummy ridge of nerves.

  My world shrunk down, to that moist, pink slit, as she continued to suck my cock, just two points of pleasure in a dark, welcoming world. Nichessa lapped eagerly along my cock, her enthusiasm making up for any perceived lack of practice or skill. I could feel every rasp of her tongue against the side of my shaft or when she sunk her lips all the way to my base, taking my whole girth into her mouth.