by Y. M. Roger
That his Rafal had begun laying the groundwork for such tens of cycles ago.
That Rafal Sadid was the right Sadid – that he truly was not his sire.
That Light would return to the Bohrean Empire.
His light.
His female.
His Empress Runa.
“Ours,” he declared loudly to Rafal, “For always.”
And he felt Rafal’s heart and mind coalesce in full emotional and physical agreement.
Khitam examined the preliminary plans that Ferenti had laid out before him – they included a list of proposed activities and an invitation registry for the upcoming Anniversary Celebration to be held in just over eight days time. As the Khedive tried to focus, his vision vacillated between the actual words on the page before him and a colorful horizon where indistinct shadows played – their sole purpose to distract and to mock him.
Khitam tried to acknowledge both Ferenti and the shadows – finally appearing to Ferenti as distracted and completely unfocused.
And inexplicably amused as he attempted to squash one of the taunting shadows with his thumb – eyes wide with both murderous intent and entertainment.
Ferenti finally lost his patience although his cowardly beast still held him wary of the great bear within the unbalanced ruler.
“My lord?” Ferenti practically gritted his teeth – they had been at this almost an hur now without much progress – much of the problem being Khitam’s lack of interest or focus or whatever, “Would you prefer to cancel the …”
Khitam’s face immediately wrinkled in anger and a threatening growl escaped from the bear – a partially-presented bear claw sending his chalice of sedative-laced fermenti crashing against the nearby wall. The drink had become a necessity in the evenings as of late as the Khedive seemed to become more unstable late in the day – the great bear having roamed the palace late at night and mauled more than one attendant before the sedative regimen had begun. The administration of the drug had been Ferenti’s idea and only he and the kitchen steward knew of it, but tensions around the palace had certainly eased since its implementation.
But, now, the enraged Khedive shook his head as if to clear his vision as he turned his head slightly to find Ferenti.
“Would you also turn against us, sweet one?” The usual term of endearment was spoken with such animus as Khitam stood above them that the shentalingra recoiled substantially inside as Ferenti caught his breath in surprise and shook his head, eyes wide in both fear and bewilderment.
“My lord, I would nev …,” His voice was lost as instead of raising the clawed paw in anger, Khitam quickly grabbed Ferenti’s entire private package and began massaging it with an evil look on his face that made the shentalingra quiver in fear.
But Ferenti had no where to which to retreat – he was pinned in the chair with the wall to one side, the solid stone table to the other. He swallowed the shentalingra’s screams of terror so as not to incite the mad khedive or his bear further.
“We trusted you,” the fire that burned in Khitam’s eyes as his face approached Ferenti was no where near sane, and Ferenti felt the claws rip through the fabric and brush against his flaccid member, “Do you not remember?”
The Khedive leaned into his steward and licked his neck, purposefully allowing his large partially, presented fangs to brush against the advisor’s skin as well.
Ferenti struggled to hold onto the panic in which he was submerged – this was exactly the way the bear treated an injured Blood-borne animal before it tore them apart – Ferenti had witnessed such on Khitam’s “hunting” expeditions.
Anger and lust boiled off Khitam – it made the shentalingra wonder which emotion would win in the end, but all Ferenti could find within himself was the fear.
And cower and whimper because of it.
Until the shentalingra’s survival instincts took over and it began to hum for the mad Khedive as it would hum for a shentalingra female in the wild – even though, truth be told, they had never even met a female of their kind.
Khitam’s head immediately snapped upward – his disturbing gaze meeting Ferenti’s alarmed one – the conflict inside the unstable ruler evidenced in his tensed jawline and unfocused pupils. His hand on Ferenti tightened as he tilted his head downward – a move that Ferenti’s beast saw as an obvious act of aggression – the transition in the Khedive’s eyes turning from unfocused to more bearlike as a low growl rolled up from inside Khitam.
“Do you?!!” he roared in Ferenti’s face as a single clawed finger slid under Ferenti’s package in search of his entry.
Ferenti shuddered as, in fear for his life, he reached a trembling hand toward Khatim’s hair while simultaneously forcing his hips forward toward the edge of the chair.
“Yes, oh Great One,” he barely recognized his own voice through the haze of horror at his situation as he forced his hand to stroke Khitam’s gray hair, “We could never forget.”
Khitam slid a rough yet unpresented finger inside of Ferenti as the steward winced at the slight pain of the dry, unprepared entry.
A grin that could be interpreted as nothing short of evil incarnate spread over Khitam’s face as his hot breath poured over Ferenti.
“There is the submission we remember,” Khitam unceremoniously ripped Ferenti’s clothing layers from his torso with barely a noticeable exertion – his mind was almost gone but his strength was anything but. And Ferenti dared not challenge his Khedive’s actions as the bear-controlled ruler ripped open his pants to reveal his package and inserted yet another finger inside of him, “Whimper louder for me, puta – I want to hear your beautiful cries for release, my sweet one.”
Once again, the term that used to be one of endearment was snarled with disgust. Ferenti felt the tears well up in his own eyes as Khitam roughly ran his bear claw back and forth across his steward’s bare torso stopping periodically at each nipple to pinch hard until the shentalingra inside whimpered loud enough for the bear to hear. Then the process would begin again.
And the Khedive seemed to breathe in every whimper, every tear that began to roll down Ferenti’s face, every shudder that ran through the frightened and pained being – all of it only fueled the lust that rolled off Khitam and emboldened him to add a third finger and thrust and tug relentlessly.
And, to Ferenti’s disgusted surprise, he found himself watching in complete revulsion as he grew more and more aroused with Khitam’s handling of him. Until he was so stiff and at attention that he felt his own explosion ready to launch.
But Khitam positioned his fingers, both inside and out, such that he prevented Ferenti’s physical liberation, and he allowed his bear to present more fully in his facial features. The khedive then grasped a handful of Ferenti’s hair at the roots and bared his neck for the taking.
“Beg us for release, puta,” the murderous intent reached Ferenti’s ears such that he lost complete contact with his beast – as if the beast had died of a heart attack or fainted away. “Beg for it loud and tearfully and submissively as if” – Khitam bared his fangs and the bear growled from within – “as if your kahrolasi life depended on it.”
And, from the nothingness into which it had seemingly disappeared, the shentalingra gave everything it could to help in that requested chorus.
Afterwards, as he lay nude and hoarse and spent and sobbing on the table – how had he gotten there again? – Ferenti shivered and trembled as the unimaginably large great bear licked him clean. The giant beast took care to spend extra time at his now-irritated entry, its rough tongue only sending more painful sensations through the steward.
And more pained whimpers escaped through Ferenti’s gritted teeth.
Ferenti started to try to roll toward the side of the table to dismount, but the huge bear was on top of him almost immediately, roaring in his face, a large paw held upward ready to strike. And in the bear’s
wild eyes was written the clear message that he, the beast, was in charge now. The steward rolled into a fetal position and covered his head, both he and the shentalingra letting out a pained yet scratchy yelp of complete submission.
The bear leaned over and, after snarling again in the steward’s face, licked the side of the terrified steward’s face as Ferenti simply closed his eyes in fear to try to close out the bear and his incessant tongue.
In a span of time unknown to the completely shattered steward, the bear finally stopped and Ferenti felt his clothes laid over him followed by Khitam’s voice cutting through the maddening silence.
“Get dressed, my sweet pet,” but this was the true and almost gentle voice of the Khedive from decades ago, “And retrieve more of our sedative from the kitchen.”
Ferenti rolled over, torn clothing in hand, to stare dumbfoundedly at Khitam who sat up in his bed – his lower body already under the bedcovers for the night, reading.
“My lord?” Ferenti’s voice was still hoarse and trembling as he held his torn clothes in an attempt to cover himself.
“We have known of the sedative, Ferenti,” the Khedive looked quite placid and in full control, “And it sufficed for a while to have you deliver it,” then Khitam grinned and the bear and its true evil came to life in his eyes, “But now we will take it only after you have sufficiently attended us for the evening.”
Ferenti tried to stifle the shentalingra’s cry of abject despair as slight tears welled up in his own eyes again.
Attend him? They called us a pet!
But before he could form words to begin to comprehend this madness, Khitam continued.
“Oh, yes, my satisfying pet,” the khedive licked his fingers as the great bear’s growl echoed throughout the chambers, “Every evening.”
Khitam only chuckled at Ferenti’s discomfort and turned the page of his reading. He looked up again at the cowardly steward’s expression of disbelief.
“And after you retrieve our sedative, sweet one, you should make sure you have a preliminary report ready on the progress of finishing the job the other pich failed in my heir-apparent’s household.”
Ferenti felt his mouth fall open to which the bear growled lower almost as if in amusement as Khitam himself chuckled.
“Oh, yes, Ferenti,” Khitam’s mouth smiled and licked its lips and the bear’s malevolent eyes glowered their intent, “My beast may have its needs, but we are still Khedive, yes?”
Ferenti stood speechless for a moment until the great bear snarled and bared his teeth at him.
“Now go! Before your delicious tabansıze makes us take you again this night!”
Ferenti fearfully scrambled for the door leaving a laughing, demented ruler in his wake.
The daystar was almost at its highest point in its daily path as Kilgar stood with Guyanni, his genrathe senses reaching outward at maximum distance.
“Oh, yeah, there is trouble on-board, Captain,” the Teyman mumbled under his breath – eyes more closed than open in concentration as the small palace transport’s engines powered down, “Lethal trouble. Intended strike expected within the next …”
Kilgar raised his wrist to comm Balstir to move in when Guyanni annoyedly shook his head, “What the …”
The door to the transport slid open to reveal a lone figure clothed in casual but unmistakable Khedive’s service purple clothing. But not even the “casual” could mask the “dangerous” air and confidence with which the graceful and lithe blonde female descended the steps.
Guyanni grabbed Kilgar’s arm. Hard.
“Stand down, Captain!” His voice forceful yet barely in the audible range, “I got nothing now – the puta just went kahrolasi invisible!”
Kilgar commed Balstir as he stared incredulously at his best tracker – both of them acutely aware of the obviously quite visible female aka ambassadorial gift – that Kilgar and Hondo both had expected to be a male. She was for the twins, actually, from the Khedive as her feet hit the landing on which the transport lighted.
“Have Mr. Personality occupy her momentarily for me, Teyman,” Kilgar growled the command rather than spoke it, “We have an issue. Kilgar end.”
Kilgar and Guyanni watched as Balstir and three other Red Guards began their approach across the pad toward the lethally-honed female. Like Kilgar would ever let such a creature anywhere near Hondo’s sons …
“Now, about this ‘invisibility’ thi …,” the Captain turned to find his most trusted tracker whose face was etched with what could best be described as a mixture of horror and even pain, “Guy?”
Guyanni’s face lost all expression, and he turned into a stone-cold statue of fury – Kilgar felt his demercriere crouch down for a strike.
“Something’s blocking me, Captain,” Guyanni hissed – a sign that the genrathe was highly agitated – as he pressed his palms to his temples, “The ship itself must be projecting some sort of shield or maybe something in her clothing,” he shook his head and opened his eyes wide at Kilgar, “It is like she is there but not … a breeze or a thunderstorm or …,” the hiss transitioned to a snarl, and it seemed as though murder hung on every syllable that followed, “Behead her, Captain,” Guyanni’s tone brokered no room for argument, “Kahrohlasi kill the orosputa before she touches any one within these walls.”
Behead her? Was his tracker loosing it?
Kilgar left his outward appearance that of being relaxed when he could actually take Guyanni down at any moment – his beast remaining on a hair-trigger.
“Wanna share, Teyman?” he let the demercriere sound clearly in his voice – watched as the genrathe prowled anxiously behind Guyanni’s eyes. But it was not Kilgar’s blood the restless genrathe wanted – it was the female’s – that much was patently obvious as Guyanni shook his head in frustration and pulled his uniform top clear, turned, and shucked the pants before hollering across the pad to Balstir and the others.
Guy was waiting on no one – not even his Captain.
“Swords only, Balstir! Do not touch it or draw your power weapon!”
The genrathe’s long and extremely muscular back legs scaled the stairs four at a time – the last seven, it leapt over completely to hit the ground running toward the other end.
What in godsfall was happening …?
Kilgar commed Guyanni’s words to Balstir just in case the Teyman had not heard Guy bellow across the pad from their position in the hangar, then he called the barracks for back-up as he ran – stripping his own clothes along the way, letting his demercriere pursue as soon as it could present. He trusted Guyanni, but he could certainly not keep the genrathe’s pace in cognate form.
In those brief moments, the robed blonde female’s head turned sharply toward the charging genrathe – the attacking animal still well-behind the Red Guards already on approach – his intended target was blatantly obvious as the genrathe’s savage howl sounded forth.
It was headed straight for the mesmerizing female.
Her red eyes shot back to focus on Balstir and the three just as they drew their swords or long knives as directed by Kilgar’s comm. The female then let out a shriek that brought two of the four in front of her to their knees – hands pressed tightly against their ears – their blades clanging to the pavement as they grunted in acute pain. She simultaneously shed her flowing purple robes, allowing her beast to present fully.
Holy kahrolasi Gods and Makers!
The large indigo sircakerkele raised its forebody off the ground in a manner similar to a cobra and displayed its frilling and its poisonous fangs in challenge. The formidable predator lunged toward the nearest Red Guard who was just removing his hands from his ears as her tail whipped toward the other kneeling guard to slap him full across the face – his body flying sideways to collide with a pile of crates. Her tail then took aim for Balstir who managed to duck from the blow and reach up to slice o
ff a bit of its tail.
Bad choice.
The sircakerkele shrieked again at the pain – this time the shriek burst one of the demercriere’s eardrums, the huge animal halting to howl and swipe at the pain that radiated through its head. At the same time, a smaller shriek made Balstir spin on his heel to face another, albeit smaller, sircakerkele stalking him from behind.
Where in the kahrolasi godsfall had that one come from?
Kilgar re-presented and – blood dripping from the affected ear – hollered at his guards. He only knew a little about the creatures from a stupid wildlife vidmag in the twins’ reading area, but he knew enough.
“Stab it, dammit! Do not slice it!” the pain in his head from his ear was unbelievable, “And, for the gods sake, do not …”
A zap from an energy weapon rang out from a group of approaching guards responding from the barracks. Kilgar watched in horror as the energy stream connected with the sleek indigo skin about mid-body and exploded it easily into a hail of fleshy chunks – each substantial piece almost instantly regenerating such that there were now five – or was it six? – separate deadly sircakerkeles.
Kahrolasi godsfall!
Kilgar hit the all-call on his comm and shouted as loudly as possible.
“No kahrolasi energy weapons! Hand to hand only! Behead them just above that frilly winged collar thing but do not touch them!” Kilgar felt his head swim with the pain – his demercriere roaring inside with the feeling of helplessness and distress.
A weapon! Find us a weapon!
His balance was definitely off, but he needed something with which to fight. Spying a large spare blade from the fans on the swamp hovercrafts, Kilgar ran to it and quickly rejoined the fight.
Meanwhile, Balstir had turned to take on the smaller but definitely growing sircakerkele that had spawned with his initial slice, and the Teyman was more than occupied with trying to avoid contact and at the same time wound or, at a minimum, slow the lunging of the extremely agile beast. It shrieked at him, and Balstir allowed his hydenna to shriek back through his own vocal chords. The indigo beast seeming to pause momentarily with the vocalization, but, still, they danced.