House of Lust

by Tony Roberts

  She led him to a shut door, and she pushed it open. Telekan went in first, checking the space beyond. It was empty. There was a narrow passageway and two doors. The first was ajar and showed a damp and mouldy room, which they avoided. The other door opened to an antechamber, looking out onto the courtyard from the end, and they turned left and selected the first door they came to. A small but dry room greeted them. Nothing was to be found within it, and the two took hold of each other and were soon locked in a passionate embrace.

  Their body heat was rising and their breathing becoming ragged, and his hands were roaming over her figure. She moaned and pressed against him eagerly, wanting to feel him again and again.

  Telekan began to slip his hands down her front when he suddenly gasped and jerked upright stiffly, and fell against her. Amne opened her eyes and wondered what was going on. To her horror Telekan slid to the floor, striking it hard with his head. Behind him, holding a bloodied knife, was Dragan Purfin, his hair wild and unkempt, his eyes full of hatred.

  She drew in her breath to scream but the blade of the knife was against her throat in an instant. “One sound and you die,” he hissed venomously into her face. “I knew you’d be back here, you whore,” he growled, “you just cannot say no to the next virile stud that crosses your path. You are without shame, you slut.”

  Amne whimpered. The knife pressed against the skin of her throat. Her eyes rolled wildly.

  “Too bad about him,” Dragan kicked the body of Telekan, “a promising career ended with his hands on a princesses’ breasts.” He chuckled softly. “You’ll end up the same way unless you keep quiet.” He spun her round and pushed her against the nearest wall. Amne wondered wildly what was going to happen next. She felt a cloth on her back, then it went round her shoulders. “Put this on and hide your head. You’re too distinctive with those yellow curls.”

  Amne shrugged into the cloak and slid the hood over her head and remained standing, trembling. A rough hand took her arm and she was dragged out into the antechamber. Her eyes went to the dirty window that overlooked the courtyard, but Dragan was already ahead of her.

  “Don’t think about it – here, through this door.” She was pushed through another door and they were then into the main part of the abandoned building, a stark, bare place that echoed with every footfall. Dragan pulled her along, his knife still red from Telekan’s blood. They turned right and then were at a side door. “We’re going on a short walk. It’s outside but not in any street. You keep on moving and nothing bad will happen.”

  There was a narrow alleyway and it smelt of refuse and rot. Small creatures scuttled away as they made their way along it, and then they turned off into an even smaller passageway to a shut door. Dragan produced a key and unlocked it, pushing her into the dark opening beyond.

  Amne stood fearfully just inside the building and waited. Dragan shut the door and darkness descended. She cried out softly.

  Dragan sniggered right next to her. “Oh, worry not my sweet, your devoted lover is with you and I won’t let you come to harm – unless I decide otherwise. He fumbled about and Amne’s eyes began to adjust. Shadows appeared, and a few lighter spots where daylight filtered in under doors. A spark, a second, and suddenly a candle was lit. The light showed they were in a hallway of some sort, and a staircase led up on one side while the passage carried on past into the deeper part of the house.

  Dragan pushed her up and she went reluctantly. His hand ran over her bottom and she tried to avoid it but he chuckled again. “You’ve got a fantastic arse – I’ve never appreciated it like this, but I’ve never seen it ahead of me going up stairs before.”

  “Dragan – please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise!”

  He merely laughed again, a nasty sound. He pushed past her at the top of the stairs and wrenched open a door. A small bedroom lay beyond, with a sagging bed of straw and ripped sheets. The single window was masked with a dark blanket hanging from a rail above it. “Look what I am reduced to thanks to your treachery, you back-stabbing she-canine,” he said bitterly. “I could have had all this city, and you by my side, instead here we are, I a fugitive, you a prisoner in this shit-hole of a domicile. I bet you’re the land owner of this eyesore, too. Hah! What rents are you earning from these pathetic rooms? How many are here? Fifty, a hundred? How many live in these rooms? Four hundred? Crammed in like caught piscines in a box!”

  “Dragan – please. Let me go, I beg you!”

  “Shut it,” he snarled, hauling off the cloak. He appraised her standing before him. “Get every piece of clothing off, now! Or I rip them off.”

  “Dragan….”

  He slapped her hard across the face. “You never hesitated to bare yourself previously. Now get all of it off.”

  Sobbing, her face stinging, she complied, struggling with some of the catches, but before long she was naked before him. He nodded. “Yes, hard to imagine you’ve had two kids, and you’re still in fantastic shape. Shame.”

  He pushed her onto the bed and she sagged in it, then got a whiff of stale straw. He knelt on her stomach and suddenly there was a rope in his hands, fixing it to her hands. He pulled her hands up and tied the rope to a hook in the wall just above the bed. Then he moved down and fixed each ankle to another rope and tied each to the frame of the bed. She was now helplessly tied, her legs apart, her arms above her head. He grinned and put the knife away.

  “I vowed revenge on you, you cheap strumpet, and so here we are. It must be my birthday.” He unfastened his trousers and slid them off, sliding up onto her stomach. “I am going to take you repeatedly, and there’s nothing you will be able to do about it.” He slapped her again across the face, three times, viciously, then spat into her stinging flesh.

  She shook, crying out in pain, then felt a cloth thrust into her mouth and pressed there.

  “Just so you don’t make too much noise and disturb the neighbours, see,” he commented. His knees went between hers. “Not a sign of your precious Captain Lalaas or your doting husband. They can do nothing to stop me,” he said, then began to painfully force himself on her.

  Amne screamed behind her cloth, the agony was intense. She writhed and struggled but he was too strong and the ropes too firmly fixed.

  He didn’t stop for a long time.

  ____

  The discovery of the body of Captain Telekan sparked a huge search around the building. Soldiers were sent into each house, with orders not to spare any hiding hole or door, no matter how inconspicuous.

  Elas led the search, directing Lalaas to lead a second squad of men in another sector. The two guards detailed to escort her were arrested and held in the palace jail and every member of the KIMM who had seen her and Captain Telekan questioned closely.

  Nobody had seen anything or heard anything.

  Elas was now directing a house search around the block where the council building stood, and at the rear were some dilapidated tenements, a run-down area away from the main streets. His soldiers kicked in doors and smashed out of the way anyone who tried to stop them.

  At the doorway of yet another malodorous rodent-hole, there was a note pinned to it, addressed to Prince Elas. The soldier who found it took it immediately to the Prince, and saluted.

  Elas snatched it and tore it open and his eyes bulged when they read it. His lips trembled with rage. “Stop!” he shouted.

  His soldiers all came to attention. “Return to the barracks at once! March!”

  Lalaas and his squad came back once they got the order, too, and he presented himself to Elas in the palace. “Sire, some development?” He didn’t waste time asking pointless questions.

  “Here, Captain, read this!” Elas flicked at the curling parchment on his desk, his whole attitude one of distraction.

  Lalaas picked it up, turned it and slowly read the message. ‘If you or your soldiers enter my premises I vow to remove the Princess’s head from her lovely neck. Dragan Purfin.’

  “It could be a bluff, sire, or an e
mpty threat.”

  “This was affixed to it,” Elas held up a single blonde lock. It was unmistakably Amne’s. “That evil man has my wife at his mercy. He shall enjoy a long slow death.”

  “Sire, someone has been recruiting men of serving age into an unknown force. It might well be him.”

  Elas glared up at Lalaas. “And how long have you known of this?”

  “Since this morning, sire – I was investigating the veracity of this when this incident broke out.”

  “Then it is a fair assumption. You have a spy network in the streets of this city, Captain. Use it – find out where my wife is, and devise a plan to return her to me. If you fail, your resignation will be expected on my desk.”

  “Sire, if I fail then I won’t bother returning.” He saluted and left, his fists clenched. Amne! His heart pounded – if he failed, then Amne would be dead, just like the unfortunate Captain Telekan. If Amne died…… he felt sick.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The entry of Emperor Astiras into Kornith was greeted with an enthusiasm that surprised everyone in his party, the emperor included. As it was late summer there were an abundance of flowers and many of these were thrown by the delighted populace onto the arriving men.

  Astiras glanced at Landec, riding alongside him. “Nice to see such loyalty, isn’t it?”

  Landec grinned and nodded. “I wish everywhere was like this, sire.”

  Astiras agreed and waved to the people thronging the stone-paved road that led into the town. They passed under the gatehouse and noted how the houses that lined the street were bedecked with bunting of paper, flowers and greenery. Kornith had not seen an emperor for a long, long time. Astiras was as much a figure of fascination, and gangs of children ran through the crowds, trying to keep up alongside the big, armoured figure with a gold crown on his head.

  The stone castle, an old, ancient construction, loomed above him. There was a dirt surfaced square before the arched entrance, and off to the sides were the garrison quarters and a stables, opposite one another. They all dismounted and climbed the series of wide steps to the long ledge that the castle entrance was stood upon.

  Astiras turned to face the many faces looking at him. “You have made your emperor very welcome this day,” he said loudly. “I have long wished to visit your region and know that here I can feel loved by my people.”

  The throng smiled. The assembled dignitaries by the entrance relaxed; they had wondered what both the people’s reaction and the emperor’s attitude would be. Everything seemed well.

  Astiras waved again to the crowd. “I shall enjoy my time in Kornith and rest assured my heart shall swell each time anyone speaks to me of Pelponia and its people.”

  A great cheer rose, and the emperor turned and faced the line of people who ran the town. The tall, pock-marked figure of Captain Anthes strode forward, bowed low, and announced himself.

  “Well met, Captain, it is time I came here to see everything for myself. Please introduce me to your Court.”

  Anthes stepped to one side to reveal the people there. “My senior militia commander, Denoth.” Denoth was a squat, wide man with a ruddy complexion. He bowed very low. Astiras acknowledged him with a curt nod. Anthes gestured to a slight figure in black. “Senior Cleric Taboz.”

  “Ah yes, Vazil. We have met before, Captain,” Astiras smiled. “Good to see you again, Cleric Taboz.”

  “Your majesty,” Vazil bowed solemnly.

  Anthes stepped across the priest’s line of vision and indicated a swarthy, curly-haired man with a pot belly. “Our inventor and engineer, Geril Pash, from Talia.”

  “Ah, yes, I have heard of you, engineer. I must speak with you of your inventions further.”

  Pash bowed.

  “Lastly, my Senior Scribe Lokar Hamlis.” Hamlis was a large nosed, gangly figure with a shock of unruly white hair. He leaned at the waist and almost bent double. Astiras acknowledged him and nodded towards Landec. “My aide, Landec. The others need to be housed and their animals stabled. While that is happening, lead me inside; I wish to see my quarters.”

  Anthes signalled to one of the stablehands to lead the equines to their stalls, then led Astiras and Landec into the building through a wide arched entryway. The hall beyond was big, arched exits leading to passages or doorways, and a wide stone staircase led up to the next floor. Guards were evident and flags and weapons hung in profusion from the walls.

  Astiras nodded with satisfaction. If the rest of the place was as good, then this would please him immensely.

  The formalities took a while and Astiras was grateful finally to excuse himself to his room through tiredness. Two servants showed him round his quarters, set on the second floor of the keep, a suite of three rooms, spacious and warm. The main room faced north, so that the sun shone brightly through the windows when they were unshuttered.

  After his boots were unfastened and pulled off, Astiras dismissed the two servants. He had little use for them at the moment, although they would be back to change his clothing for the evening’s reception meal. He yawned and stretched. A knock came on the door and he gave permission for entry. Landec stuck his head in. “Sire, the priest is here to speak with you.”

  “Let him in,” the emperor said. “Oh, and you can listen in, too.”

  Moments later Vazil stood before the emperor, Landec alongside the priest.

  “Well, Vazil, how are you finding your duties here?”

  Vazil glanced at Landec warily. Astiras chuckled. “Ah yes, I see your dilemma. Landec, what you are about to see and hear, you tell nobody, understand? If you babble to anyone, I’ll feed your genitals to the carrion avians.”

  Landec swallowed. “You have my word, sire.”

  Astiras settled back in his chair. “Very well, Landec, this is my spy here in Kornith.”

  The bodyguard looked at the slight figure with renewed interest. “Indeed, sire? A priest as a spy – good move.”

  “That’s not all.” Astiras was enjoying the moment. “Perhaps you can tell Landec of your other secret? He will need to know as you will need more than just me to pass on messages while I am here. I may well be engaged with other duties. Landec will be the perfect contact.”

  Vazil looked at Landec for a moment, then nodded. “My identity is not as you may think,” now her voice softened. She threw back her cowl, unfastened her clerical garment and allowed it to slide to the floor. Underneath she wore a simple shift but there were unmistakably breasts being bound beneath. She smiled at the shocked bodyguard.

  “A – A woman!” Landec spluttered. “A woman priest?”

  “Oh relax – she’s not even a priest,” Astiras waved a careless hand. “She’s gone through no Temple or ordination. I can appoint anyone I see fit given the opportunity. Can you think of a better disguise?”

  Landec eyed the slight swellings underneath her shift. “Ah, no, sire. My congratulations, ma’am.”

  Vasila giggled and rotated her head slowly, massaging the muscles. “Oh, it’s such a relief to be a woman again – if only for a short while.”

  Astiras grinned. “I can imagine. So, Vasila, what can you tell me of the situation here in Kornith and Pelponia before I get the managed careful rubbish from Anthes?”

  “Pelponia is very loyal to you, sire, and to the Koros. They are fiercely Kastanian, simple, uncomplicated people. They’re not stupid; they just don’t have the complex disadvantages of a city’s politics.”

  Astiras chuckled. “Very well put, young lady. No hidden agendas, no false smiles and stated loyalties.”

  “Indeed, sire. As to Kornith, you’re alright with Captain Anthes. He had no ambitions of his own. He sees his post as being very important and takes great pride in what he does. He hasn’t got there on merit, it’s just that he’s outlasted everyone else and was on hand to deal with the pro-Fokis rebellion when you took power. Nobody else had come along to challenge him and since Kastan City seem to approve of what he does, that’s as good as divine authority. Oh ye
s, these people are very loyal to the gods.”

  She pursed her lips. “The inventor is an odd character. Talian, but an imperialist. His family were loyal to Kastania when the empire ruled his lands a few decades ago. He’s got the typical fierce patriotism of a convert.”

  “Any dissent? Any rebels?”

  “None, sire, that I know of. The countryside as you can see is as good as a fortress, and there’re only two places any invasion can come. From Parsot to the north, or along the road you arrived by. Oh, I suppose by sea as well to the west, but that’s it. Don’t find imagination here, just obstinate loyalty.”

  “What of this project to make javelin throwers? The engineer-inventor’s machine?”

  Vasila shrugged. “He says it’s ready, and was waiting for you to arrive to demonstrate it. Tomorrow they’re going to lay on a special show for you.”

  “Oh I can hardly wait. Well, thank you. I suppose you’d better get back into your disguise.”

  Vasila sighed. Then she looked at Landec. “Landec, are you married?”

  The bodyguard started, then shook his head. “No, ma’am. Why?”

  Vasila smiled at him. “I’ve not been with a man for a long time and I’m aching to change that. You’re a handsome, virile, big man.” She turned to the emperor. “With your permission, sire?”

  Astiras doubled over. He nodded, waving at the two with one hand, too convulsed with laughter to speak.

  Landec looked wildly at him, then her. “But – but...”

  “You find me ugly?” she challenged him.

  “Uh, no, ma’am, but – I’ve hardly met you!”

  “Oh well, you can get to know me better in your room.” She hastily slipped her garb back on. “Lead me to it, and don’t waste any time. If we’re going to work together, I want to be able to trust you entirely.”

  He allowed her to precede him, then looked once at the red-faced emperor who waved him out, before following. “The things I do for Kastania,” he muttered to himself.