Slave to the Empire

Slave to the Empire:

Rogue



	"You want us to go...where?"  Kieron the Rogue blinked.  His two
associates also did not bother to hide their disbelief.   The Lord who sat
opposite them in the darkened corners of the tavern leaned forward.  All around
them the sounds of the tavern seemed mute and distant.

	"I have come into possession of a map of the border of the Empire.  Just
on the other side is an old tomb that was captured during one of the wars a long
time ago.  In that tomb is the key to defeating the Empire once and for all." 
His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light.  Kieron knew this was a bad sign.  No
one violates the Empire's borders with impunity.  And no one ever returns.

	"I don't buy it."  Rolf, the Tracker, spoke.  "If this 'key' could
defeat the Empire, do you think they would leave it lying about?  Especially in
a tomb so close to the border?"  Rolf looked anxious as the man spoke.  There
was something wrong, Kieron noticed.  Something he wasn't saying.

	The man waved aside the questions.  "THEY," he announced grandly. 
"Cannot touch it."

	Kieron had a hard time believing him.

	For thousands of years the Empire has stood the test of time.  Ancient. 
Inviolate.  Forbidden to any male who did not accept the divine sovereignty of
the Empress.  In the dim echoes of the past the Empire was born, from across the
realms, refugees, mainly women and children, made their way across the great
mountains and to the passes and valleys therein.  They survived, thrived even,
in the harshest of conditions, until the Empire was born.  They espoused the
divine right of the Female to rule, and woe be to any male who challenged such
claims.  Thousands of females of every race flocked to the realms in the
beginning, and soon the Empire had a population that rivaled the greatest of the
Realms.

	"Let us," Ambrosis, the Sorcerer, spoke, fidgeting with the folds of his
robes.  "Accept for the moment that all you say is true.  What is in it for us?"

	"The eternal gratitude of the King."  The man smiled grandly.  "And
wealth beyond imagining."

	Kieron liked the wealth bit.  Gratitude was often forgotten once the
wine gave out.  Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was
definitely wrong.  He glanced at his companions for the moment.

	"Please," He said.  "Allow me to confer with my associates."

	The Lord nodded and stood, pausing to fondle one of the slaves that
worked the tavern, then left.  Kieron wasn't too fond of slavery, but since it
was the practiced norm of this kingdom, who was he to challenge it?

	"Well?"  Kieron spoke.

	"Suicide."  Rolf took a big drink.

	"Perhaps."  Ambrosis replied.  "If the tomb is where he says it is we
have a chance of getting in and getting out before they notice us."

	"You've been sniffing incense too long."  Rolf countered.  "Correct me
if I am wrong, but there are Dragons on the Empire's side, correct?"

	"Technically."  The sorcerer replied.  "We know they have nests in the
mountains, and the Empire does nothing to them..."

	"What about the consequences?"  Kieron asked.  "If this Empire
shattering weapon exists.  Do we want to subject it citizens to the world
outside.  If you remember your history, the Empire never opened hostilities nor
invaded any realm."

	"Screw the consequences."  Ambrosis sniffed.  "I can handle anything
that comes our way."

	Rolf finished his ale.  "Maybe."

	"What say you then?"  Ambrosis pressed.  "You said yourself that you
didn't want to spend the rest of your life sniffing a deer's ass."

	"Alright."

	They both looked at Kieron.  "This is a mistake."

	

	They managed to reach the border undetected after a week of travel. 
Dense swamps and dead trees marked the journey, with the far mountain ranges in
the distance dividing the border between the Empire and the Realms.  The sun
raced across the sky as the mountains grew.  The line that delineated between
the Empire and the Realms became more distinct with each step, the lush, healthy
forest that was nestled against the mountains versus the sickly foliage of the
swamp behind them.  Night soon fell.  It was quiet, dark, with no moon to
illuminate their path.  Kieron held up his thief's lantern to check the map they
were given.  Rolf knelt down amongst the foliage with his bow as Ambrosis simply
stood on the path.

	"This is a bad idea."  Kieron whispered. 

	"You worry to much."  Ambrosis snapped

	"And you worry to little!"

	"Are we at the border or not?"

	"We are."

	Ambrosis strode forward.  "Then lets go."

	Kieron looked at Rolf, who shrugged then followed.  He whispered a
silent prayer, then hesitantly followed.  Crossing the border felt wrong.  Every
fiber of his being screamed out against it, but his associates had voted to do
this, and as the odd man out in this micro-democracy, he had to go along with
it.  After all, he gave his word to his friends, and he has never broken it. 
According to the map, the tomb was two leagues from their present position,
carved out of the mountain itself.

	The tomb loomed before them in the mists.  The Lord who hired them told
them that the tomb was thousands of years old, and contained the artifact that
he needed.  Just from observation the tomb in question didn't look that old. 
Kieron took the lead, checking the door for traps then focused on the lock.  The
door wasn't locked.  In fact, it seemed well oiled and made no sound as he
opened it.  He signaled the others to wait as he stared pasted the threshold. 
He stepped into the darkness slowly, letting his eyes adjust.  The passage led
down, into the cool darkness of the tomb.  There were no side passages as he
penetrated the tomb, no marks or signs of traps or alarms.  At the far end of
the passage was an arch that led to the goal of the mission.  It was a simple
room, unadorned with any of the trapping and finery attributed to such an
ancient structure.  It even lacked the dust and smell of ages.  Something was
very wrong. 

	He stepped into the tomb, moving lightly, until he reached the place
where the artifact was kept.  He worked quickly and quietly, until he managed to
open the tomb.  There was a rod inside, about a meter long, decorated with
mystic runes and symbols.  Definitely sorcerous.   He held the object in his
hands, his mind awash with the implications.  The mere existence of such an
artifact boded ill for females not only of the Empire, but females everywhere.
There were some things in his past that none of his current associate knew
about, things that did help the Empire indirectly.  Thoughts that he had once
forgotten and buried returned, memories of the past that weighted heavily on his
heart began to sink their chains in him once again.  Not again, he thought to
himself.  NEVER again.  Without a second thought, he shattered the artifact,
then turned back to flee the tomb.  He thought of a hundred excuses to tell his
friends, his mind racing as he reentered the night.  He looked around for the
others.  There was no one there.  He raced down the steps, throwing aside his
lantern aside as he dove into the forest.  Branches slapped him as he wove a
zigzag course.  In the darkness he saw the border and safety.  He never saw the
warriors rise up from the tall grass, only the glint of steel encasing a fist
before he saw a flash of light, then stars, then nothing.



	Kieron's jaw ached, and his arms were numb.  He tried to open his eyes
but found only blackness.  He panicked.  His wrists stung as the ropes bit into
them, as the rope around his neck tightened.  He relaxed for a moment, and tried
to fumble for one of his knives only to find bare flesh.  He heard a woman's
laugh as he soon discovered he was nude.

	The blindfold was removed from his eyes and he blinked in the firelight. 
He was tied in the center of the Imperial encampment, on display for any of the
women who cared to examine him.  Never before had he seen so many different
races together in one camp.  Elves mingling with Dwarfs, Haflings dicing with
humans, Gnomes arguing with DragonKin.  The apparent leader of the camp was an
Elf, dressed in leather and steel, she gave the impression of one who did not
like males.

	"Well sisters."  She announced.  "Looks like our little plaything is
awake."  She grabbed his chin in her gauntleted hand and raised his eyes to
hers.  With practiced ease she forced his mouth open, felt his teeth, smelt his
breath, and looked for any signs of disease or decay.  She ran practiced hands
over his flanks, checked his legs and feet, and then slapped his ass hard.

	"Your 'friends' sold you out."  She sneered.  "The tracker is already on
his way back to your 'civilization' with a hefty purse.  The Sorcerer has been
rewarded for his presumption."  She waved to the crucified form of Ambrosis.  He
died hard.  "You are the true prize of the bunch.  It would be amusing to watch
your 'friend' try to spend cursed coin in the Realms."

	He hung his head down and digested her words.  His eyes looked around
the camp once more, before he slumped in defeat.  She laughed harshly.

	"What will happen to me?"

	She slapped him for speaking, then again for impertinence, but in the
end answered his question.  "Why, I am going to ride you back to the capital,
then sell your worthless ass."  She grabbed his genitals and squeezed.  "If
you're lucky, you might keep these."  Then she strode away.

	He was released from his bonds, only to have his wrists and ankles
encased in steel and leather cuffs.  A heavy collar was locked around his neck,
and he felt leather straps fastened around his shoulders and waist.  One of the
warriors was not unsympathetic, as she allowed his to take a drink of water
before strapping the leather bit into his mouth.  She leaned forward to lock the
strap and whispered into his ear.

 	"Don't antagonize the Captain.  Just do whatever she tells you."

	A funny saddle appeared, and was set onto his upper back.  The Captain
appeared, dressed in riding leathers and carrying a heavy quirt.  Gracing her
boots were evil looking spurs, sharp and hook pointed.  The rest of the warriors
broke down the camp and began to mount up on the horses hidden in a cul de sac,
with the Captain taking the reins to Kieron's bit from a sergeant, then mounted
onto his back.  He grunted as she settled her weight onto the saddle.  She dug
the spurs in, and Kieron stumbled forward, harsh jerks of the reins guided him
to follow the lead horses, and he followed the best he could, his feet ached as
he crossed the broken ground in bare feet.  He was ashamed as the tears came. 
He fought them back, trying to find equilibrium and not give his captors the
pleasure of seeing him break.

	He was awash with conflicting emotions.  On one side, he raged, his
heart full of hate that the cruel twist of fate that brought him to this moment. 
On the other side, he accepted it as the natural consequence of his actions.  It
fed part of the small need in him that wanted such debasement.  He had never
opened opposed the activities and practices of the Realms, particularly those of
the more darker and evil Realms, and he did what he could to alleviate some of
the suffering that such casual indifference generated.  He cursed the elf.  Her
cruelty seemed just like what he had known in the Realms. 



	Stopping for the night brought no relief.  He wasn't released from his
bonds, just hobbled like a horse with his collar attached to a large tree.  He
was fed oats like a horse, but none of the attention and grooming that some of
the warriors gave to their mounts was directed his way.  He was mud spattered,
sore, with bloody flanks from the spurs.  And he smelled of stale sweat and
horseshit.  One of the warriors approached with a bucket of water and splashed
him with it, removing some of the grime, but not helping very much.  There was
nothing for him to do but wait.  And endure.



	The Capital of the Empire was, to say the least, magnificent.  Clean and
well ordered, with broad lanes with great trees that sheltered the citizens as
they moved about their business, marble spires reaching into the heavens, vast
buildings with elaborate carvings and scrollwork.  He was ridden into the
outskirts of the city at the head of the patrol, the Captain riding high like a
conquering hero.  And Kieron felt nothing like the noble steed of the conquering
hero.  The patrol stopped at one of the more innocent seeming buildings at the
edge of the Capital, and the Captain dismounted and approached the High Elf
matron that emerged.  He heard them speak in the musical elfin language, before
the matron glided forward to examine Kieron.  She was extraordinarily beautiful,
like all elves, dressed in loose, sheer fabrics.  She did nothing but walk
around him before speaking again with the Captain.  He saw a bag of money drop
into the Captain's hand, and then the matron taking his reins and leading him to
the back of the building.  As he was always told, appearances can be deceiving. 
The High Elf matron was a slaver.  She handed Kieron over to a pair of
overseers, who quickly stripped and cleaned him up.  A softer leather collar was
locked around his neck, but he was left relatively unrestrained.  The entry
parlor of the building was opulent, with many statues of men and women in
various positions encircling the room.  The matron lay reclined on a divan,
occasionally accepting a grape from a slave.  He stood before the woman who
would decide his fate.

	"I know you."  She spoke.  "You are known to many here."  Her eyes were
hooded.  "The question is, what to do with you."  She stretched out sensuously. 
"Despite your...efforts on out behalf, you violated the border.  That was
unacceptable.  That makes you a slave."  She sat up, and made a gesture with her
hand.  A slave appeared with a long onyx cigarette holder fitted with a slim
black cigarette.  The slave lit it, then disappeared.

	"You will stay here for the time being.  The advisory council will be
informed of your presence, and your status will be evaluated."  She sucked on
the cigarette, then tapped the ash on the head of the nearest slave.  She
pointed to the spot at her feet, her eyes never leaving his.  He hesitated,
unsure of what was wanted of him; the hardening of her eyes told him that he had
better obey.  He crossed the distance to her and knelt, her hand forcing his
eyes down, her hand running through his hair.  Her feet were encased in thin
sandals; each toenail painted a deep red.

	"There, that wasn't so hard now was it?"  She said, and then smiled. 
"We are going to have sooo much fun." 

	He said nothing, but kept his eyes downcast.

	"Have you ever been fucked?"  She asked.  "By a male that is?"  She
prodded him with the tip of Her sandal.  "You may answer."

	"No Lady I have not."

	"Perhaps I'll have you and another slave wrestle and fuck for my
pleasure."  She sucked on the cigarette.  She motioned for Her body slave, who
opened his mouth obediently as She removed the cigarette from its holder and
stabbed it out on his outstretched tongue.  The slave took the butt and ate it
obediently.	"Take our 'guest' to one of the playrooms."  She said to the
guards.  "I'll be along soon."

	Kieron was led upstairs to a large, spacious room with exposed beams. 
Chains hung from the beams at various places, and the room was filled with every
device and implement used to inflict pain.  The center of the room was dominated
by a huge wooded cross in the shape of an X.  The guards said nothing as the
forced the human over a waist high padded A frame, and strap his wrists and
ankles to the device.  One of the guards applied an oily gel to his anus, then
both disappeared.  The door clicked ominously behind them.  He struggled for a
bit, testing the leather straps, but found no leverage for which to free
himself.  Panic began to set in as a cool breeze crossed the room and tickled
the lubricated areas of his ass.  He fought the straps until his wrists were
raw, then relaxed.  Resistance was futile, he learned, and struggling only
brought discomfort and pain.  He fought the tears that threatened to overwhelm
him, and cursed the names of his two 'friends', the noble who sent them on this
foolish quest, and finally himself, for being a damn fool for going along with
it.  The door clicked open and the stucco of heels echoed through the room.  A
rough hand fondled his ass, before laying a hard slap across it. 

	"Well well well." The voice spoke.  "What do we have here?  A virgin ass
attached to a virgin body."  The voice laughed.  Something rough pressed against
his sphincter, and he gasped loudly as it roughly penetrated.  "OH YES!"  The
voice cried out.  The anal assault continued for a moment, before the object was
withdrawn, leaving him gaping and sore.  The heels crossed the room again, and
he heard the clank of chain.  The person crossed into his view and grabbed his
hair, pulling his eyes up to meet his tormentors.  It was an elf, ebon skinned
in a white leather corset with matching spike heeled hip boots and long gloves. 
Around her waist she wore a simple leather belt from which hung a white/silver
loincloth.  Her red eyes searched him over before letting his head fall.  Behind
her, the Matron stood by, casually fingering a flogger.

	"I am Inquisitor Hallia, sent by the Advisory Council to take your
statement before judgment is passed.  I will use you any way I see fit.  Answer
my questions truthfully, and I may be inclined to be merciful.  Lie, and I will
do things to you that you never imagined in your worst nightmares."  She pulled
a chair before him and sat down, her legs crossing in a business like manor and
her hands folded sedately above one knee.

	"Now, lets begin with something simple, like, your name."

	He tried to clear his throat.  "Kieron.  Kieron of Aquilia, son of Tomas
and Saphra."  His voice rasped.

	She patted his cheek.  "Very good.  That wasn't so hard now was it?" 
She turned serious.  "Now, what was your business for crossing the border?"

	"Myself and two companions were asked to seal an artifact from a tomb
just on the other side of the border.  The lord who hired us is named Autrik. 
We were to be paid our combined weight in gold for the successful retrieval of
the artifact."

	She seemed to be studying her nails.  "And what was this artifact
supposed to do?"

	"Bring down the Empire," Kieron whispered.  "But I couldn't do it. 
Slavery is wrong, and I didn't want to see what was common in the Realms to
befall the Empire."

	"So out of some misguided sense of duty you crossed the border and broke
into the tomb and stole the artifact in question."

	"And I shattered it."

	"Yes, we know."

	He looked confused. 

	"If there were such an artifact that could 'bring down the empire', do
you think we would be stupid enough to let it sit in a moldy tomb on the
border?"  She shook her head.  "Men are so easy to fool."

	"There is no artifact, is there?"  Kieron asked.

	Her eyes narrow.  "I gave you no leave to ask questions.  I question,
you answer.  Is that understood?"

	"Yes ma'am."  I reply.

	"Very good.  Since you have been honest, I will be generous and
enlighten you."  She leaned forward.  "There is no artifact.  Just a clever
story to fool our neighbors into focusing on something akin to a quick fix. 
There is none.  We know who you are, and what you have done to aid those less
fortunate.  How many slaves did you get to the border?  Over three thousand,
wasn't it?  They are all living healthy, productive lives here in the Empire,
and many of them have slaves of their own."

	"Slavery is wrong."  He stated again.

	"Is it?  There are many kinds of slavery."  She pulled off her gloves
and stroked my cheek.  "Is not love a form of slavery?  Much of what we do is
ritualized, institutionalized.  Men are enslaved to protect them, not to harm
them.  Yes, there is some pain, but applied correctly, it teaches instead of
abuses.  Our Empire has existed peacefully for a thousand years because we put
our men into bondage.  You seek what happens on the other side of the mountains
as truth, but we know it to be a false path.  The best slaves are those who
willingly accept their slavery, come to love it.  Revel in it."

	She paused, her lips are inches from his, and he closes his eyes and
opens his mouth slightly to take in and focus on her scent.  She breathes
lightly into his mouth, followed by a light trace of her lips over his.  He
shivered as Her hands touched his face.  She did not kiss him, but kept her face
close to his. 

	"Tell me what you want."  She whispers, her lips brushing his lightly.

	"I don't want to be afraid, alone, any more."  He replies.

	Her lips press against his in a chaste kiss, then she stands.  Her hands
rub over his shoulders and skin, and she walks around him, touching, caressing. 
He feels her breasts press into his back and her mouth by his ear.  "You will
never be alone again."

	And then she is gone.

Slave to the Empire:
The Rogue 2

	Kieron closed his eyes and tried to relax.  His arms and legs hurt from
the straps, and despite the soft padded leather, so did his abdomen.  He heard
the door behind him open, followed by a hand massaging his lower back.  The elf
Matron stood before him and touched his hair.

	"Well, no welts, cuts, or burns.  You must have been quite truthful to
the Inquisitor."  She sighed.  "Unfortunately, I can't play with you like I want
to."  She tweaked his cheek.  "You made a good impression on the most violent
and sadistic Inquisitor in the Empress's service."

	Inquisitor Hallia?  Sadistic?  He thought.

	She sat in the chair vacated by the Inquisitor.  She lit a cigarette and
smoked it quietly, studying the restrained human.  There was a sympathetic look
in her eyes.

	"Tomorrow you will taken to the Hall of the Magistrix, where your will
judged.  If you are fortunate, you will be sold quickly to a kind Mistress.  If
you are not, then I expect to see you again very soon."  She finished her
cigarette and stood.  She motioned with a hand, and a pair of guards unstrapped
him and helped him up.

	"Put him in an isolation cell.  An Inquisitor will be arriving for him
tomorrow."

	Kieron didn't resist as he was led out of the room and down into the
mansion's basement.  It was quiet, too quiet.  He was pushed gently into a small
alcove, made to crawl into a horizontal shaft.  The shaft was padded on all
sides, dark, with very little room to move.  His ankles were locked into a set
of stocks, with the stocks being used as the door for the cell.  Hands tugged on
his feet, fingernails teased the soles of his feet, and then he was left alone
in the silent dark.

	Kieron blinked at the sunlight.  His wrists were bound behind him with
leather straps, a leash attached to the collar around his neck.  He kept his
head down, partly to avoid the looks of the city's populous, partly to hide the
blush that spread across his face.  It was a difficult morning, being awoken as
the sun was rising by the Inquisitor, allowed a rather short period to clean
himself under their watchful gaze until it was time for a small meal.  As he was
finished it was time to leave.  The Matron gave him a light kiss on the forehead
with the blessings of her house. 

	A pair of Inquisitors, one ahead of him, one behind, led him towards the
Hall of the Magistrix.  Both Inquisitors wore shapeless white robes that
concealed everything.  Only their arms were visible, encased in white leather. 
They were not wholly unsympathetic to him, pausing occasionally for him to catch
his breath or to get a drink.  An hour later, he was walking nervously up the
steps into the great hall.  He was processed by a black robed woman, who then
escorted him to the center of a large circular chamber with a raised padded
platform with several straps dangling from it.  He was made to kneel, his legs
strapped apart with his wrists strapped to a spike at the back of the platform. 
His genitals were placed into a harness which made them seem plump and full,
with the ensemble completed with a blindfold.  He closed his eyes and prayed for
it to be over.

	A rapping of stone on stone jerked his attention back to reality.  He
tenses in his bonds, and then tried to relax.

	"Kieron of Aquilia."  A raspy voice spoke.  "You are charged with
violating the borders of the Imperium, and willful destruction of Imperial
property.  What is your plea?"

	Kieron took a deep breath.  There was no way around any of this. 
"Guilty."

	"So noted."  The voice continued.  "Let the record state that the human
has entered a plea of Guilty.  Are you ready to receive your sentence?"

	"I...I am."  Kieron stuttered.

	"You will be taken to the main slave pens, where you will sold
immediately to the highest bidder.  You will serve in such a fashion for a
period of no longer than five years, followed by a subsequent review of your
case and performance.  A satisfactory review will result in your upgrade of
status from slave to bondsman.  Serve us well, and you will be treated well. 
Thus ends this case."

	He was quickly released from his bonds and led back out of the hall and
to a large pavilion like structure a block from the hall.  He was quickly handed
over to the Mistress of Slaves and placed in a viewing cubicle, his arms and
legs spread-eagled and a metal harness holding his mouth open for inspection. 
He closed his eyes to the poking and prodding by the many people who came by
looking for slaves.  His arms and legs ached after a time, and soon he found his
cubicle rotating to place him on display for auction.

	"Lot 12334322."  The announcer spoke.  "Human male, 25 years of age,
excellent physical condition.  Five-year service period with Magistrix review. 
The bidding starts at 1000 gold marks."

	The bidding became fierce.  He half listened to the auction, trying to
shut out the fate in store for him.  He was let down so that the more
enthusiastic buyers could touch and feel the merchandise.  He offered no
resistance to their probing, and knelt obediently before the auctioneer when
ordered.

	"I have a bid for 13,000 gold marks from Mistress Amber of House
Draconis.  Is there a higher bid?  Going once!  Going twice!"

	"The Inquisition bids twenty thousand gold marks."  A familiar voice
echoed through the throng. 

	"I have a bid for 20,000.  Do I have a bid for 20,500?  No?  Going once! 
Going twice!  SOLD to the Inquisition for 20,000 gold marks."

	Four Inquisitors strode down the isle, four white ghosts amongst a field
of black.  They circled the restrained human once, before one of them produced a
set of white leather and steel cuffs.  He was quickly retrained into the new
cuffs; the black collar removed and handed to the auctioneer.  His wrists were
pulled behind him and locked together, and then he was escorted out.  He kept
his eyes down as they left the slave pens, and soon he was loaded onto an
enclosed carriage followed by the four inquisitors.  He knelt on the floor as
they took seats surrounding him.  They said nothing, but one of them produced a
leather hood and pulled it over his head and sealed it, rendering him blind,
deaf, and dumb.  He took deep cleansing breaths through the small tubes inserted
into his nose, trying to relax and quell the growing anxiety.  A kind hand
stroked his back, but there was nothing to be said, only silence.

    	He felt a warm hand encircle his penis and begin to stroke him.  There
was only the sensation of the hand, no other sensory input was available, and it
was maddening.  The straps around his genitals prevented any full erection, and
did not block the flow of blood, but it made for a very tight fit.  The pressure
eased somewhat as the hand withdrew, and he tried to stay conscious as sleep
began to overtake him like a warm blanket engulfing his mind.  His head came to
rest on the leg of one of the Inquisitors, but he quickly brought himself back
up to avoid any impropriety.  A hand pulled his head back into the lap of the
Inquisitor who he touched, and he surrendered to sleep.

	Such a polite young human.  One Inquisitor sent to her sisters.

	I agree.  Another replied.  Well worth the price we paid for him.

	Are you sure he is the one we are looking for?  The third asked.

	He is.  Inquisitor Hallia replied, stroking the leather encased head
that rested in her lap.  He will sire many strong daughters for us, and he will
be very obedient to our desires.

	Kieron woke to find himself on a soft palette.  The walls were dim, with
small lanterns hanging on opposite ends of the door.  He tried to rise, only to
find his wrists and ankles strapped to the palette.  The door opened, and a
human woman in a plain frock brought a tray of food in.  She said nothing as she
set the food down on a small table besides the palette, and she left just as
silently.  A loud click freed his wrists and ankles, and he groggily arose to
examine the meal.  It looked and smelled better than found in many taverns in
the Realms.  But then again, most of the taverns in the Realms were self serve
kill-it-and-cook-it.  He ate quietly, savoring the thick stew and bread before
returning to his palette and lying back down.  He was confused by it all.  The
actions of the Inquisition did not at all meet with the thousands of rumors
spread in the Realms.  The door opened again and a pair of Inquisitors entered. 
One of them pointed to the floor at their feet, and Kieron quickly left the
palette and knelt before them.  One of them removed their hood and looked at
him.

	"Kieron of Aquilia, you will come with us.  It is time for your
claiming."

	He rose as bid by the two Inquisitors, then led out of the cell and
through a maze of corridors to a high domed chamber.  At the center of the
chamber on a platform was a cross like he had seen at the Matrons, only at a
45-degree angle.  A circle of Inquisitors surrounded the cross, all silent.  A
smoking brazier sat by the cross, as did a covered table.  He stumbled slightly,
but the two Inquisitors held him up as he walked to the platform.  He was
greeted by another Inquisitor, this one dressed in the same white robes, but
with a black and gold stripe decorating it.  She led him to the cross and bade
him lay facedown across it.  He closed his eyes as his wrists and ankles were
strapped to it, followed by this waist and thighs.  His head hung down between
the two upright sections of the cross.  He heard the coals being stirred,
followed by a cloth on the left ass cheek.  He began to hyperventilate, his fear
overriding all reason. A hand pressed against his lower back and stroked gently,
and he found his fear receding.

	"Take a deep breath."  A voice spoke.  He obeyed, just as the hot brand
lanced his ass.  He opened his mouth to scream, but found his voice gone.  The
brand felt like it had been attached for an eternity, but it was removed, the
stench of burnt flesh rising like an offering to the gods.  A cool cloth was
applied to the brand and rubbed lightly.  He heard the flutter of robes falling,
and he felt a pair of breasts against his back.

	"I told you that you would never be alone ever again..."

	He closed his eyes as he was released and turned over to be strapped
down face up. 

	"Look at me."  Inquisitor Hallia ordered.

	He opened his eyes to stare at the Inquisitor.  She was dressed as he
had seen her before, and in the darkness, he could see that the remaining
Inquisitors were dressed in the same fashion. 

	"I claim you for the Inquisition."  She spoke ritually.  "You belong to
us, your life, your soul, your seed.  You will obey us without question.  You
will be as a husband to us.  I seal you to us with bonds that can never be
broken."  She produced several rings that seemed to be bent open.  She placed
one at each nipple, and the rings began to close, threading themselves through
the nipple until they were a solid ring.  She kissed him to muffle the shock and
noise he would have made as the rings pierced him.  She placed the remaining
rings along his penis and scrotum, and smiled as they sealed.  The last item was
brought on a silk pillow.   It was a white leather collar with a tag dangling
from it, the emblem of the Inquisition clearly visible.  With great care and
respect Hallia took the collar and placed it around his neck.  She locked it,
then released him from his bonds and led him to his new Mistresses.  They all
gathered around him and held him, touched him, murmured words of ease, and
accepted him.  Inquisitor Hallia stood behind him, her arms encircling his torso
as her hands roamed up and down.  Tugs on the newly emplaced rings brought a
slight gasp from Kieron, much to the pleasure of those present.

	"Sister Katarine," Hallia spoke.  "He is yours for the night."  She spun
Kieron to face her.  "I trust you will be obedient."  She warned him.

	Kieron nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  Hallia gave him a chaste
kiss before attaching the leash to his collar and handing it to the waiting
Inquisitor.  The rest of the Inquisitors present smiled and congratulated their
sister on her good fortune.

	"Any specific orders my Lady?"  Katarine asked, accepting the leash.

	"I want is ass untouched.  Beyond that, you may...indulge yourself."

	Katarine's smile was radiant.  "Thank you my Lady."

	A tug on his leash brought Kieron back to the present, leading him away
from the gathering down one of the finer halls of the keep.  He kept his eyes on
the floor as she led him onward, past what appeared to be vast libraries, past
open halls that served as meeting areas, to a set of elaborately carved doors
that led to private chambers of the Inquisitors.  The inscriptions on the doors
were in a language unfamiliar to him.  They opened silently as Inquisitor
Katarine crossed the threshold.  His eyes, downcast as they were, took in the
paths and directions they took.  Years of training in the arts of subterfuge,
stealth, and trickery taught him to keep his bearings no matter where he was.

	"Here we are."  She spoke, opening one of the many doors along the
hallway to usher him into the plush apartments.  She attached the leash to a
chair and ran her hands over his form.  "I expected more."  She sniffed.  He
blushed self consciously at her words.  True, he was average in all respects,
from his height to his weight, his auburn hair pulled into a loose ponytail that
brushed the back of his neck.  His eyes, when unhooded, were a deep blue that
changed with the mood.

	Katarine, on the other hand, was radiant in her beauty, resembling more
of a perfect statue rather than a woman.  Flawless skin, long dark hair, and
eyes that one could loose themselves in.  It all seemed a bit artificial to him,
her appearance, like something was being hidden from him.  She gathered a few
items and laid them on the bed, pulling out chains that were hidden and
preparing them before crossing the gulf between them to lead him to the nuptial
bed.  There was a slight smile gracing her lips as she pushed him down on to the
bed facedown.

	"The Lady Inquisitor Hallia has forbidden me to the pleasure of raping
your ass," She spoke, her finger sliding along the cleft of his ass.  "But I am
sure that I will enjoy myself in other ways."  He heard her move to the foot of
the bed.  "Legs apart slave."

	He obeyed, feeling the soft feel of leather encasing each ankle, then
gasped as his legs were wrenched further apart.  His wrists followed, and soon
he was restrained spread eagle on the bed.  Katarine sat beside him on the bed,
her hands roaming his body.  Her fingers traced faint scars that lined his back.

	"I am going to hurt you pet."  She said, brushing the hair out of his
eyes.  His eyes widen at her statement, the light of fear creeping into them. 
"Open your mouth."  She ordered, her hand retrieving a gag.  He hesitated for a
moment, then opened his mouth and accepted the leather ball as she strapped
around his head.  A blindfold followed, taking his sight.  He fought to keep his
breathing normal as he felt the bed shift as she rose.  Time seemed to stretch
out as he waited for whatever she had planned.  It was a light tapping, almost a
thud, on his shoulders.  At first he thought it was some kind of fan until the
tapping thud became more intense, heavier.  He moaned as his skin warmed under
the flogging.  It wasn't painful in the least; the rhythmic thud of the whip was
almost relaxing.  She paused, her hand stroking his shoulders, feeling the
warmth, before moving the whip down his ass and thighs.  She took care to avoid
his lower back and spine, but made up for the missed areas with heavier blows on
his lower torso.  As he became used to the warm fuzz of the thud, it changed,
and he cried out into the gag as a line of fire was applied to his ass.  A
second line joined the first, followed quickly by a third.  Something sharp dug
into the welts that the device left behind, five sharp little daggers that
probed and pinched.  Her fingernails. 

	"My, such a reaction."  Her hand reached underneath him to fondle his
penis and tug on the rings.  She chuckled at his erection.  "Indeed a reaction."

	Kieron felt ashamed at his arousal at the whipping, confused at his
emotions. 

	"Yes, that's it."  She whispered, her face close to him.  "Submit to
your emotions.  You feel ashamed, yes?  Embarrassed that your cock is hard as
you are getting whipped?  Let go of your shame and fears.  Embrace the pleasure
that you feel.  It will hurt, yes, but it will also feel good.  Pain and
pleasure are twins that never see each other, but are always there." 

	Kieron focused on the sensations.  It hurt, but it did not really hurt. 
Something inside had awaked, changed.  She continued the whipping, using various
devices and toys to hurt and tease, finally stopping to have him turn over.  He
obeyed every order she gave, winching each time she tugged or played with his
new jewelry. 

	He felt her hand on his penis, stroking and touching, feeling her nails
flick across each ring.  Each ring sending a jolt through him, then warm
wetness.  He moaned as he fought the feelings, the mingled pain and pleasure. 
Her mouth captured one of his nipples and nipped lightly, pulling the ring.  He
thrust deeper into her, until he felt he could not contain his release any
longer.  He moaned and tossed his head as she laughed at his attempts of
restraint.

	"Come inside me pet."  She whispered to him.  "I want your seed in me."


	Lady Inquisitor Hallia paused in her writings, her mind sensing the
union of two souls.  She smiled to herself as she resumed her work.  The reports
from her agents had been piling up for weeks, and this was the first chance she
had gotten since returning to read over them and make her recommendations.  She
paused and leaned back into her chair, resting her arms on soft leather and
closed her eyes.  She saw and felt all that had been done to the young man. 
Soon, she promised herself.  Her eyes opened slowly to look at the other
occupant of the room, a shapeless figure in the black robes of the Nightfall
Clan, the Assassins of the Empire.

	"You have your champion."  The figure intoned neutrally.  "A fine young
man."  The figure paused.  "Does he know his past?  Does he know your
involvement?"

	Hallia frowned.  "You are a guest in these walls, and many guest rights
have been accorded to you, but I will NOT tolerate any interference in this
matter."  She stood and moved around the desk to stand by the figure.  "We have
our Rogue.  The Dragon Queen has her Ranger, the Tower has her Sorcerer," She
looked at the figure.  "And you have your Paladin."

	"I will bid you good night then Lady Hallia."  The figure bowed
ritually, before melding into the shadows and disappearing from the room. 
Hallia fixed herself a glass of wine and drank it down, then shattering the
glass in her hand and she stared into the flames of the fireplace.  She silently
cursed the circumstances that brought them all to this, and the parts the males
would have to play in it.


	Kieron blinked at the sunlight that streamed into the open room.  It was
more spacious and warm than the room he was in this morning.  He was not as sore
as he would have thought after last night, and neither was he restrained to the
bed in anyway.  He stretched and sat up, partially covering his nudity with the
thin sheets of his bed before spying a set of clothes folded neatly on the
dresser across from the bed.  The clothing was of a thin, nearly transparent
linen, white in color, with string ties to keep it clothed.  The string ties
also provided quick access to his body.  He had just finished tying off the
shirt ties when the door opened to reveal a small child.  Kieron blinked, and
shook his head to clear it from sleep as the child was in fact not a child at
all.  A Halfling Inquisitor.  The small woman was dressed in a loose robe, grey
in color, matching the streaks of grey in her hair. 

	"You are awake."  She stated.  "That is good.  It saves me the trouble
of having to beat you this morning."  She examined him intently.  "Make no
mistake human.  There are those of us here that to no welcome the disruption you
bring.  You will obey every order you are given or you will be punished
severely."  Her expression never wavered.  "Now follow me."  She whirled and
stalked out the room.  Kieron followed a respectful distance, his mind slowly
coming to grips with his new status.  The Halfling led him through the halls to
the main dining hall where many of the Inquisitors at the keep were present.  He
was conscious of the stares by the Inquisitors of other races, looks that were
not entirely hostile, but curiously indifferent.  He was presented to the Lady
Inquisitor, who bade him to sit at her feet for breakfast.  As breakfast was
being served, he was surprised to see other slaves present, as well as older men
and children that wore more formal, stylized garments.  It was strange to see
such normalness in a place that is often referred to in the Realms as the Abyss
of the Empire.  He remembered his schooling when he was younger.  Aquilia was
perhaps one of the more stable Kingdoms in the Realms.  Art and Science were
valued highly in the Realm, however, being sandwiched between two very evil
Realms kept the peoples there on a permanent war footing.  Everyone learns how
to defend themselves, some took it further, like Kieron.  His parents did not
wholly approve of his 'career' choice, but studying the shadow arts allowed him
to go many places where more 'normal' people could not go.  His abilities kept
him alive for several years as he passed through the Dark Realms of Daven and
Orgues.

	"Did you think you were the only slave present?"  Hallia interrupted his
thoughts.  "There are three hundred Inquisitors present here at the Mother House
at any one time.  Only about a hundred are human, the rest a mixture of the
other races.  Some have their own slaves, or mates. And children are always
present."  She set a plate of food down beside him.  "You may eat now. 
Afterwards you will be taken for instruction and training so that you will
understand what is expected of you. " 

	Kieron ate quietly.  He finished the meal quickly and waited patiently
for his owner to finish.  Hallia kelp glancing at him briefly, never saying
anything.  She cast a glance at one of the Inquisitors who had finished.  The
woman tilted her head at the head Inquisitor before rising slowly and
approaching.

	"Kieron, go with Inquisitor Treyelle.  She will see to your education." 
Hallia ordered.  Kieron rose slowly, pausing briefly before bowing respectfully
to Lady Hallia, then taking is place behind the Inquisitor.  She snapped a leash
onto his collar and led him from the room.  Inquisitor Treyelle was an elf, her
almond eyes dark as she led him down the hall towards the Great Library.  There
was a hooded Inquisitor at junction of the hall, and he felt a kinship with the
mysterious woman.  He had to be physically reminded of his task as his leash was
jerked harshly.  Still, the mysterious Inquisitor lingered.  Only a brief
contact, yet, something familiar.  Deep inside he knew her.

	Who was she?

Slave to the Empire

Rogue 3



      Kieron sat at the main table in the library, several tomes scattered
around him as he researched a project for the Lady Inquisitor Hallia.  It was in
truth a meaningless project, designed nothing more than to test his knowledge
and research skills.  For the past weeks it has been the same routine.  The Lady
Inquisitor would 'gift' him to one of the human Inquisitors for the night,
followed by some kind of whipping or flogging, then sex, then waking up in his
chambers to start the process again of getting up, reporting for breakfast,
taking lessons in etiquette and protocol, obedience training, a light lunch,
more training, research project for the Lady Inquisitor, then report to her with
his findings and then dinner.  He set down the quill pen and rubbed his eyes. 
So far this project has been nothing more than a glorified geography lesson.  He
had already done many such projects detailing the state of the Seven Realms, the
Free States, the Island Republics, and the Empire.  He glanced about him
discreetly, before pulling out a copy on the history of the Imperial Government. 
He ignored the treatises on the bureaucracy, instead skipping to the scant pages
on the Imperial Inquisition. 

	The Inquisition, he read, was not concerned with the religious matters
of the Empire.  The individual religions looked after the spirituality of their
prospective flocks.  No, the Inquisition was more of an intelligence gathering
organization, with broad powers in dealing with the other kingdoms and realms of
the world.  They also oversaw the internal security of the Empire, which
fortunately very few instances of treason or espionage were detected and
eliminated.  There was something going on here.  Something that he wasn't
seeing.  He closed the book in frustration, leaned back and rubbed his eyes.  He
stared at the fresco on the ceiling of the library.  It was a very painstaking
detailed piece portraying the last battle of the first Empress and her followers
against the hordes of what is now Iceholme.  All of the Great Houses of the
Empire had Heroines in that battle, and many of the Empire's greatest Ministries
also came about in that battle.  Kayla Dragon-Wing of House Draconis,
Dragonriders all; Murelle the Shadow Knife, Lady of the Nightfall Clan; Hallia
of the Mind, Mistress of the Psyche; Giselle of the-

	He sat up abruptly.  Hallia of the Mind.  He stood up, knocking over his
chair and moved quickly to the wall of Imperial sciences.  Two
Inquisitor-trainees also stood, their eyes dark at the interruption of their
studies.  Kieron ignored them as he tracked down the only book in the library on
the mental disciplines.  He prayed he was wrong.  He wasn't.  To become and
Inquisitor, it required a mastery of the Mental Disciplines, a mastery of one's
innate psionic abilities.  The Inquisitors had messed with his mind.  He slumped
down to the floor, stunned.  Quietly he closed the book and replaced it, slowly
standing and returning to his seat.  He replaced the chair to its proper
position before presenting himself to the two trainees.

	"Please forgive my outburst, it was rude and uncalled for."

	The two elves nodded solemnly and return to their work.  He bowed
respectfully before retreating, then gathered his materials and replaced the
books, not giving the fresco a second look before returning to his room.  He sat
down wearily on the bed, wondering how he could have been so blind.  Cursing
himself for his feelings.  Were they real?  Or were they nothing more than an
implanted idea?  He rose after a moments rest, knowing that he would have to
confront the Lady Inquisitor.  Right now he didn't care what she would do to him
for his imputiance.  Yes, he thought.   I would go to her directly, and damn the
consequences.

	There were no guards present at the entrance to her office, nor was
there any kind of secretary or door person to greet or announce.  He steeled
himself and pushed the door open.  The office of the Lady Inquisitor was quite
tasteful, but dimly lit.  In the shadows he could make out arms and armor that
decorated the walls, marble statues at opposite ends of the huge fireplace.  A
pair of oil lamps sat on the massive oak desk, which was cluttered with papers
and documents.  He moved silently into the room, his eyes searching the dimness
for any sign of traps or alarms.  It was a dangerous endeavor he was
undertaking.  One that could very well get him executed, or worse.  The desk
itself was old enough to fetch a small fortune in any major city.  He didn't
touch anything on the desk, just looked.  All of the papers were in an archaic
form of Elvish, but not High Elvish.  He scanned the walls, searching for any
discrepancies that might reveal a secret passage.  A chill raced down his spine. 
He whirled around to face...an empty room.  There was no one here.  He crossed
behind her desk and sat wearily into her chair.  He shifted uncomfortably for a
moment, something sharp digging into his lower back.

	"It HAS been a while since I had a young man sit in my lap."

	He surged out of the chair, only to be brought up short with a hand
firmly entwined in his hair.  He struggled against the grip as another arm
wrapped itself around his waist.  He relaxed instantly, trying to calm his fear.

	"I TRUST there is an excellent reason for you to invade my office?" 
Hallia asked, her voice hard.  "Speak boy, before I have you whipped."

	"You lied to me."

	"Oh?"

	"You have been playing with my mind, controlling me."

	"Have I?"

	"Don't deny it!"  He shouted, the tears standing in his eyes. 
"Everything here is a lie."

	"Ah.  So you deny that you have enjoyed the exquisite pleasures of being
spanked, and whipped, and cropped?"  Her hand strayed to his groin, where she
stroked his erection.  "And this?"

	"You are doing that."

	"On the contrary, I do nothing that you yourself do not want done.  You
want this life.  You want to be punished.  You feel guilt at the things you have
done in the past, the desires and wants you have experienced."  She stood,
taking him to a standing position with her, but not releasing him.  "All your
life you have sought to belong.  A place where you can fit in and be yourself." 
She turns him to face her, releasing his hair to take hold of the ring in the
front of his collar.  "You didn't fight us when we took you, claimed you as one
of us."  Her face was inches from his, her eyes a burning red in the darkness. 

	He backed away from her, bumping into the desk.  She followed,
maintaining her contact with his body.  He was caught in a dilemma, whether or
not to fight, to strike out.  The scent of her body was very intoxicating, and
she appeared to make no other move other than to keep him off balance. 

	"Stay away."  He said weakly, seeking an avenue of escape.  He avoided
her eyes.

	"You belong to me."  She stated.  "You are MY property.  You have no
authority to tell ME what to do boy."  Her tone wasn't an angry one, but very
close to it.

	"Submit."  She said.

	Kieron pushed her away, flipping back over the desk and backing towards
the door.  Her eyes were mere slits.  With a wave the desk slid out of her way,
nothing disturbed on it, and she advanced.  With her right hand she formed a
fist and jabbed it forward.  Kieron fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. 
With her left she formed a claw and lifted it to eye level, and Kieron rose off
the ground, an invisible hand encircling his throat.  He thrashed vainly, Hallia
watching from across the room.

	"Submit."  She repeated, releasing her hold. 

      Kieron fell to the floor, coughing.  He surveyed his options, taking the
moment to catch his breath.  He couldn't just think a plan through; she would
pick it out of his thoughts with ease.  He rolled to the right, his hand coming
to rest on one of the hilts of the many swords that the room held.  He paused. 
Drawing a weapon here even in self defense upped the ante in terms of violence. 
If she truly was the Hallia that fought in the Great War a thousand years ago,
there was nothing that he could do that could break her defense in the way of
arms.  Her expression never faltered as she held out her right hand parallel to
the ground.  The air tasted of ozone as the tip of a sword appeared to emerge
from her palm, slowly sliding out until the hilt was firmly in her grasp.  The
blade seemed to hum with an unholy life.  He released the hilt and backed away
from all weapon slowly.  She released the sword and it disappeared to where ever
she kept it, and he skipped forward to deliver a front kick.  She blocked with a
forearm, her free hand quickly darting forward to palm strike him in his chest. 
He gasped for air and dodged back out of range.  He recovered moments later to
launch himself at her in a charge, head down, arms spread to tackle her.  She
merely sidestepped his attack, pausing only briefly to bring her knee up to meet
his on rushing head.  The resulting effect was much akin to two large marble
balls colliding.  He fell into a shapeless heap, weeping openly.  She stepped
back to give him some space, unsympathetic to his emotional state.  He lashed
out again, only to have his arm trapped by her foot.

	"Submit" She said more gently.  "I don't want to hurt you any more than
I have to."

	"Why?"  He croaked.

	"Why what?  Why you?  Why me?  Why you are being so stubborn?  Why are
you acting like a foolish child?  Why are you forcing me to punish you?"

	She kneeled down on the balls of her feet, releasing his arm.  "You were
born for this life.  You are where you are supposed to be.  You are EXACTLY
where you need to be."  She stood.  The door opened to reveal a pair of
Inquisitors, each bearing several chains and manacles.

	"Take him to my personal chambers below.  I will see to him shortly." 
She paused.  "Make sure he is quite secure."



	Kieron struggled in his restraints.  He was bound into a tight spread
eagle position, his wrists encased in soft leather wrapped in steel cuffs,
stretched taut about his head.  His ankles were similarly adorned, and his toes
could barely touch the floor.  The white collar that proclaimed his status in
the keep lay on the table before him.  His hands felt like they were going numb. 
He took deep cleansing breaths as he tried to relax; however, this chamber did
nothing to relax him.  The room was well lit, despite it being in the dungeons
of the keep, very clean, with many more such devices for inflicting pain
present, than he had previously imagined existed.  It was a very sterile
environment, cold and unyielding.  He heard the door open behind him, then
close.  He closed his eyes at what was coming.

	"Look at me."  Hallia commanded.  Kieron opened his eyes to look at his
owner.  She was dressed not in white, but the deepest black.  It was hard to
tell where the leather and steel ended, and the woman began.  She wore a corset
with many straps and buckles on it, followed by a simple black skirt with the
slits over each thigh.  Her legs were encased in thigh high boots with a seven
inch steel spiked heel.  Her arms were bare, revealing well manicured nails
painted the color of her eyes.  Her snow white hair was unbound and loose, her
expression was, to say the least, disappointed.

	"I am going to have to hurt you now." She spoke, her fingers stroking
his nipples.  "I had hoped that you would have proven more sensible in your
training, but I see that your human frailties have gotten the better of you." 
Her eyes met his.  "This will be painful I assure you.  I cannot have you run
amok without paying some kind of penance.  The other Inquisitors would not stand
for it, and rightly so."  She kissed him lightly on the lips.  Then produced a
ball gag.  "Open your mouth pet."  She whispered.

      Kieron obeyed and the gag was locked in place.  She took a vicious whip
down from the wall and held it before him  It was at least six feet long, with
the end of the whip separated into many strands.  Along the whip glinted the
hint of metal imbedded into the leather.  The whip looked well used.  She looped
it and hung it around his neck.

      "This is a Blood Kiss Whip.  It is designed for maximum efficiency as well
as maximum pain.  It can flay a person of his skin, or leave irritating welts
depending upon the wielder.  Do not tempt me to use it on you.  You will not
enjoy it."

      She slid a blindfold over his eyes and tightened it. 

	"Take your punishment like a good slave," She whispered into his ear. 
His nostrils flared as he sucked in the air, the sweat starting to give his nude
body a sheen.  He could only wait for it to begin.



      Hallia let her fingers trail across his taut form.  He was definitely an
attractive man, the marks and wounds of the past erased from the tapestry of his
flesh, leaving only a pure canvas from which to work.  She sighed to herself. 
In all her years as head of her Order, she had never met such a stubborn human. 
She had trained thousands of males in her time, but this one was special.  His
own birth was unique in many respects, as was his mother.  She would not enjoy
punishing him, but she would do it.

     

      "I had hoped that our first time together would have been under
more...pleasurable conditions."  She whispered into his ear again.  He felt
something being wrapped around his scrotum, very tightly.  He moaned into the
gag as weights were added, pulling his testicles down and making his erection
stand out.  Something gripped his shaft and jerked it harshly, repeatedly.  He
tried to pull away from the painful friction, but the chains held him firmly. 
He shook his head as the pain and pleasure of it fought in his head, the
stimulus building until it came to the breaking point.  The orgasm was pulled
out of his body forcibly, and he screamed behind the leather gag, the hand
roughly manipulating and kneading his penis until it was limp. 

      "I think I'll leave your mess for you to clean up with your tongue later." 
She spoke aloud.  "Without your essence in you, you are more vulnerable to the
pain."

      He felt her hand tightly bind his penis using his piercings, followed by
something encasing his entire genital region.  There was silence that stretched
on for what seemed to be an eternity, the ache in his testicles and penis the
only sensations he received. 

     

      Hallia picked up the cane and flexed it experimentally.  Normally she
preferred to start out light with a paddle; however, she reminded herself that
his was punishment, not pleasure.  She rubbed his ass cheeks with her free hand
measuring the warms and preparing her target.  She held the cane millimeters
from her target zone, a steady line of thin rattan.  Within the space of a
heartbeat she reeled back and laid a stroke across his ass.  She rested a hand
on his shoulder as he screamed and tried to get away.  She laid a second line
right above the first, then a third, then a fourth, until his ass was stripped
from his lower back to the tops of his thighs.  He was crying when she stopped,
her hand feeling the ridges of the welts.  His skin was unbroken, but well
marked.  She placed the cane on a table with other items that required cleaning,
and then pulled down a pair of heavy floggers.  She held one in each hand and
tilted her head, studying her target zone.  With precision of experience she
began swinging both in unison, her eyes never wavering from his upper back.  She
felt him shudder through the contact of the floggers, the heavy leather
immediately leaving angry red blotches on his skin.  Blood raced to the surface
of his skin, shifting from red to an evil purple.  She felt rage, anger at his
betrayal of her plans for him, for forcing her to do this to him.  She flung the
floggers away from her, both of them clattering against the walls behind her. 
Her lips curled back into a snarl as she raised her power.  She knew in her
heart that she could very well kill him.  She took a glass of water from the
side table, drained it, then set it down quietly.  Her heart calmed as she
stared at him.  Her power flowed across her skin, the strength of it warmed her
as she crossed to his back, her hand only inches away from his back.  She traced
a line down his back to his ass with a finger, in its wake an evil red welt
rose.  Several times she did this, until his screams ended in a shuddering
breath.  She stopped, extending her power over him until she was sure that he
was still breathing.  She looked up at her council, a representative of each
race stood in attendance over Kieron's punishment.  All nodded in approval, then
silently filed out.

     

      Kieron woke, his back and ass screamed in protest.  He took deep cleansing
breaths to try to center himself and clear his head.  Something cool was lain
across his wounds, and he turned his head to see Lady Hallia tending to his
wounds.  He blinked.  He was not in his rooms.  The bed was huge, spacious,
covered in the softest furs and leathers.  The room was just as large as the
bed, with a huge vaulted ceiling.  It was lightly decorated, however, there were
more pieces of furniture dedicated to the bondage arts that there were regular
chairs or tables.  Torches were spaced evenly along the walls, with a large
roaring fireplace illuminating the room.

      "Remain still."  She ordered.  "You are still recovering from your
punishment."

      "Do you always do this?"

      "Do what?"

      "Sit with those you have punished."

      She smiles wryly.  "Normally I spend some quality time with my pets after
play.  It is not often that I am forced to severely punish a pet so soon after
his claiming.  Normally it takes a couple of months before I am forced to take
some kind of action." 

      He felt her apply some kind of balm to his back.  His skin cooled quickly
under her healing touch, but she did not do anything to alleviate the dull ache. 
He wanted badly to just speak with her normally, but was afraid to.

      "You have questions."  She stated, then laughed at his look of fear.  "No,
I don't have to read your mind to know what you are thinking.  Your body screams
your intent and desires more loudly than your thoughts.  Be not afraid to ask
questions.  The worst that could happen is that I would spank you for
impertinence."  She massaged his shoulders gently.

      "Have you been controlling my mind?"

      She paused.  "No.  You are a slave, and I don't waste my precious energy
spending time reading the minds of slaves, particularly one I own."  Hallia
resumed the massage.  "And to put your fears to rest, no one here at the
Motherhouse has been inside your mind.  In fact, I have received a complaint or
two that you have been thinking 'too loud' and disrupting their studies."

      Kieron digested her words.  He never really thought of himself as a
nuisance, nor did he really think anything about it.  Could it have been true? 
Were all his feelings and thoughts since being captured truly his own?

      Hallia rested her hands on his lower back.

      "It isn't an easy life you have been brought to.  Nor will it get any
easier.  By my right as head of my order allowed me to purchase you when you
were brought in out of my personal funds.  You belong solely to me.  I have
loaned you to those human Inquisitors who wish to have children sired by you."

      Kieron started to get up, but was held firm.  "Wha-"

	She placed a finger on his lips.  "Shhhh."  The bed creaked as she stood
up.  "Don't say anything.  You have in you a very old and noble bloodline, one
that must be preserved.  Many of my younger sisters have expressed an interest
in having a child.  I offered your services to sire those children.  I have,"
She returned to the bed with a goblet. "Received interest by some of the Moon
Elf Inquisitors in acquiring your services as well."  She sipped from the
goblet, then offered it to Kieron, who raised his head enough for her to allow
him to sip.  The potent liquor burned down his throat, causing him to wince as
it settled in his stomach.

	"Normally I would have healed you by now, however by my own decree when
I first formed the Inquisition any slave who is punished must heal normally
after being punished."  She finished the goblet, set it on the table besides her
bed, then joined the young man on her bed.  Her fingers stroked his hair as his
eyes grew clouded.  His breathing grew steady; his eyes drooped until he sunk
into sleep.



	Hallia stretched out on her bed, taking care not to disturb her pet. 
She rose from the bed to sit at her vanity, taking care to brush out her long
silver-white hair.  It was a soothing ritual, her eyes occasionally darting to
the slumbering form on her bed.  While it was true that he wouldn't be healed by
her or any other Inquisitor, he could take some comfort from the healing balms
that she applied.  The wine she gave him would help him sleep and speed healing. 

	"Is he asleep?"

	Hallia turned to the hooded Inquisitor.  "You know he is.  He will be
asleep for a while.  It was a rather potent vintage."

	"I do worry about him.  Are you sure that you are not rushing things?"

	"I am taking as much time as I can with him.  His little tantrum this
morning might have proven to be more useful that I had originally thought."

	"How so?"

	"He is starting to 'wake up'."

	"So it did breed true."

	"Yes."  Hallia continued to brush her hair.  "We must be very careful in
what we do now.  Things are starting to come together for the others as well."

	"And our enemies?  What of them?"

	"The losses we have suffered these past two years will soon be avenged. 
I admit that it was an interesting stroke of magickal science that those fools
in Iceholme had managed to create a device that will detect us, but they made a
serious mistake."  She turned to face the hooded Inquisitor.  "They made it sex
linked so that it will only detect women."



	Kieron woke refreshed.  He turned his head to the side, to see the
sleeping form of Lady Inquisitor Hallia snuggled against him, her eyes closed
and breathing regular.  One of her arms was possessively draped over his back,
and every time he moved she moved with him, maintaining a constant touch.  He
rolled slowly to his side to face her, to take in her alien beauty in her most
vulnerable state.  She muttered something in her sleep and moved closer to him;
to his surprise she was nude.  He tried not to stare, fearful that she would
awake immediately and become angry with him again.  It was hard, not knowing
what to do.  A mature human man wakes up in bed nude with one of the most
beautiful women he had ever seen in bed with him.  He leaned over to within
inches of her face.  Her lips looked so inviting.  As if on a dare, he lightly
kissed her on the lips, then pulled back to watch.  Her tongue darted out slowly
to lick her lips, and she shifted closer to him yet again.  He dared a second
time, letting his lips linger, taking in her exotic taste and smell.  Her mouth
opened slightly and returned his kiss.  It was awkward for a moment.  Kieron had
no clue as to what to do next, his own experiences limited to fumbling
encounters with the willing tavern wench and the Inquisitors of the past weeks. 
He wanted to kiss her again, but slowly untangled himself from her embrace.  He
stood slowly, wincing to himself at his sore back and ass, his eyes scanning the
room for something to relieve himself in.  He spied the toilet off in a small
side room, and slowly made his way to it, only to be brought up short by the
manacle chained to the bed.  He tugged it lightly, trying to make as little
noise as possible, examining the locks to see if they could be picked.  It was a
lock he was unfamiliar with, something keyed to psionic abilities.  The end of
the chain was securely embedded into the heavy frame of the bed.  It could be
removed...with an axe or other heavy bladed instrument, but nothing he had at
his current disposal would do.  He felt pressure in his bladder build. 
Definitely time to use the bathroom.  He wondered to himself if Hallia chaining
him to the bed was another form of torment.

	"There is a chamber pot by your left foot."  A sleepy voice spoke.  He
turned to see Hallia leaning on her hand, staring at him.  She covered a yawn
with her hand.  "Use it and come back to bed."

	Kieron blushed as he knelt down next to the pot and began to urinate. 
He shook himself once then obediently climbed back onto the bed next to her. 
She brushed the hair out of his eyes and rested a hand on his face.

	"Turn around."  She placed a hand on his back, touching and probing. 
Her hand slipped down to feel the raised valleys of the welts on his ass.  "Any
pain?"

	"Just a dull ache."  Kieron replied.  "My back feels sore and tight.  My
just hurts when I sit."

	She scooted closer.  "Come here." 

	Kieron surrendered to her embrace, feeling her arms encircle his chest
and her breasts press into his back.  He found it confusing, her attitude
towards him.  He secretly wished he could read her mind.  It was comforting that
she held him.  Only his mother, who died years ago, had such compassion for him. 
His stomach felt funny, and he for the moment couldn't think of anything else
but her.  Her hands stroked his chest, her fingers lightly playing with the
rings in his nipples.  Her lips found the back of his neck, and Kieron leaned
his head forward as her lips traced an area at the junction of his neck and
shoulder.  He moaned as her fingers rolled his nipples between them, squeezing
and pinching them, the metal of the rings only intensifying the sensations.  Her
teeth scraped his neck, nipping the flesh.  He felt his penis harden, one of her
hands sliding down to entrap it in her fist.

	"Ah, what do we have here?"  She teased.  "A hard cock for your
Mistress?"

	"Y-yes my Lady."  Kieron stammered.

	"Mistress."  She corrected.  "Here in private you are to address me as
Mistress.  Do you understand?"

	"Yes Mistress."

	She squeezed him gently.  "Good pet."  She turned his head to face her,
her lips brushed his once, before parting slightly to kiss him fully.  Kieron
matched her movement, parting his own lips slightly to deepen the kiss.  Her
tongue teased his lips lightly before penetrating his mouth, exploring.  Kieron
blinked as her tongue fondled his own, but submitted to her explorations as her
mouth seemed to press further into his.  He started to see spots before his eyes
as she broke the kiss, her own eyes merry with amusement. 

	"I see I will have to train you to kiss properly.  I am surprised none
of your bedmates chose to enlighten you."

	"All they wanted was to tease me, then have sex with me."

	"I am going to do more than tease and have sex with you."  She said. 
"By the time I am finished with you, you will be the perfect lover and slave." 
In her hands she held his collar.  She brought it to his lips and he kissed it
as she smiled.  Her hands locked it back around his throat.  She pulled him
across her lap, face down.  Her hand rested against his ass for a moment before
delivering a sharp smack.  Kieron gasped and felt his penis slide between her
thighs, to be trapped between them.  She spanked him soundly and smoothly, more
erotically than anything else. 

	"Humans always have the most colorful asses after a good spanking."  She
stated, rubbing the affected area.  He felt her fingers part his cheeks and
stroke the dark rosebud of his sphincter.  She teased it lightly, pressing her
nail into the soft flesh but not penetrating.  A glove and a jar floated into
her outstretched hand and she set them out of his visual range.  The glove
appeared again as she showed it to him.  It was of the softest deerskin leather,
with many studs along the fingers.  The tips of the fingers were ribbed.  She
made a great show of putting the glove on and lubricating the index and middle
fingers.

	"Relax pet."  She rubbed the gel into his ass.  He tensed slightly as
one of the fingers teased him.  His back arched as she poked gently, a laugh of
pleasure escaping her lips as the finger sunk in up to the knuckle.  She eased
the finger in and out for moment.

	"My what a greedy ass you have pet.  Is it my imagination or is it that
your cock is throbbing?"

	Kieron blushed.

	The a second finger joined the first, and both slid in and out of his
ass, probing and stroking, the studs and textures sending shockwaves through his
body.  Her fingers continued their dance inside of him, and he trembled with the
pleasure of it.  It hurt, but it also felt very good.  She withdrew her fingers
and removed the glove, easing him over onto his back.  Her eyes were full of
lust as she strapped his wrists into cuffs.  His ankles were released and she
recuffed them in a position that rolled him up onto his upper back, his legs
above him.  She brushed the hair out of her face to stare at him from between
his legs.  A large leather dildo was strapped to her crotch and she applied more
lubricant to his opening, his eyes held perfect trust in the first time since
coming here, and her eyes softened at them.  Being taken anally was something
not normally done anywhere in the civilized world, but the pleasures it brought
were often abused in violence.  She eased the tip of the dildo to his opening.

	"I trust you Mistress."  He whispered.

	A tear echoed the dildo's path as it plunged.

Slave to the Empire:

Rogue 4



	Moonlight shone bright upon the balcony, illuminated the sole occupant. 
Kieron stared at the moon, his arms wrapped around himself as the cool wind blew
across his nude form.  A pair of arms encircled his body, and he leaned back
into the embrace of his Mistress.  A month had passed since that night with her,
and he welcomed the changes in him.  He felt more at peace with himself and the
world at large, and yet, there was something wrong.  She was keeping something
from him, something that particularly related to him.  The balcony became his
favorite place to think lately, overlooking the vast valleys below filled with
lush forests.  The Motherhouse of the Inquisition, he found out, was carved into
a mountain, with very few ways of getting in or out, and all the visible
features disguised with spells.  Still, it was good to get out and about as it
were.  The one question that he pondered relentlessly was why him?  Although he
has come to love and trust Hallia implicitly, there was always that nagging
question.  Why him?  She said that his blood was ancient and of a noble lineage.

	"Come back to bed pet." She kissed his neck.  She hooked a finger into
the ring in his collar and led him back to the bed they now shared.  After that
night when she took his anal virginity she simply had him move in with her so
that she could keep a closer eye on him.  He still went to his classes and
training, only now it took on a more urgent note as something was happening that
he was needed for.  He slid under the sheets along with Hallia and he tried to
relax as she laid her head on his chest.  He had been feeling odd as of late,
restless.  Hallia only watched him during those times, never saying anything or
intervening, just watching, as if something inside him was happening.

	"What are you thinking about?"  Hallia asked, looking up at him.  "Or
would you rather I just 'looked'?"

	"Things seem different."

	"How so?"

	"I...I can't put my finger on it.  Things just seem more colorful, more
open, and yet, muted, as if something inside is trying to get out.  Like a
butterfly emerging from its cocoon."

	"You have a butterfly in you?"  She teased, then her expression turned
serious.  "May I 'look'?"

	Kieron swallowed.  It wasn't often that she entered his mind.  It wasn't
an unpleasant experience, but it reminded him how different they were.  He
relented and closed his eyes.  Eye contact wasn't required, but it helped in
some of the harder cases.  He watched an Inquisitor interrogate a prisoner in
such a fashion not too long ago.  It wasn't a pretty process.  She took him
apart like a geometry problem. He felt her hands grip the sides of his head, her
lips touching his forehead, trailing down slowly until her forehead touched his. 
It felt like a pressure behind his eyes, thick and heavy.  He shuddered slightly
as her mind eased into his, and he fought down the initial panic and fear that
would have engaged his adrenalin glands.

	"Easy pet." She gripped his head tighter.  His body twitched and
spasmed.

	"No..." He whispered.

	"EASY!"  She ordered.  "Don't fight it."  She straddled his body with
hers, pinning him in place.  He felt the blood leak out his nose, the pressure
inside raging to explode, only his skull keeping things under wraps.  Now Hallia
seemed determined to strip away those wrappings.  Other beings were present,
both physically and mentally.  They held him and took over from Hallia, and he
screamed as the pain in his head increased.  Memories surfaced.  His mother's
face swam into view, a distant memory of his youth, her words, talking to him in
a language he did not know, her hands on his forehead.  The words still eluded
him, but the meanings were clear.  She was protecting his mind from himself,
burying something so deep inside that even the most experienced sorcerer
wouldn't know where to look for it.  Hands gripped his, and he held on as the
pain washed over him.  Not even Hallia's more exotic tortures compared.  The
pain reached a crescendo, then evaporated as so much mist at dawn.

	Welcome childe.  Welcome to your new life.

	He turned in surprise to the welcome.  At the foot of the bed stood the
hooded Inquisitor that he felt kinship to, seemed to know.  The woman reached up
and lowered the hood, and he came face to face with his mother.

	"No..." he whispered.  "My mother is dead, you can't be her..."  The
truth of Hallia's words came back to him.  He was indeed born for this life.

	"No, I am not your mother childe.  I am Saphra's twin sister, Serena.  I
am your aunt."

	Hallia stood off to the side, worried, but did not interfere.  He had
finally awoken to his power, now came the hardest part.  Letting him go.

	"I...I know you."

	"Yes.  I held you as a babe soon after you were born.  I helped your
mother protect you and shield you."  Her eyes were warm with love.  "She would
have been so proud to see you here."

	"Why reveal yourself now?  Why did you not come for me when my mother
died?"

	"Had I come for you, our enemies would have been alerted to your
presence.  You know that your Mother and Sire did not die in an accident."

	"No, they were murdered."  Kieron spoke softly, drawing himself up into
a ball.  "I looked for their killer."

	"And if you found her you would have died like they did."  She was
blunt.  "There will come a time when you will face the killer of your parents. 
As much as I hate to admit it, that time may come sooner than you expect, and
before we can finish your training."

	"It has all been leading to this, hasn't it."  Kieron wiped the tears
away.  "I am like you."

	"In a way.  Your abilities are a wild talent, more suited the warrior
lifestyle than the pure mental disciplines of the Inquisitor."  She sat beside
him on the bed.  "Your Mistress will not take part in any training from here on
out."

	Hallia nodded.  "I cannot interfere in this pet.  You will have to
submit to a new set of Mistresses.  This does not mean that I will relinquish
you as my pet.  You belong to ME."  She touched his face gently.  "You are my
pet...My slave."

	"Hallia," Serena spoke.  "My Lady, it is time for us to take him."

	"Take me?"  Kieron spoke, startled.

	"Pet, do not disappoint me.  Obey Inquisitor Serena as if she were me. 
Do you understand?"

	"I understand Mistress.  And I will obey."  Kieron whispered.

	One of the attendant Inquisitors produced a set of cuffs and straps,
similar to what he first experienced when he arrived.  He submitted to the
restraints as they were locked quickly around his wrists and ankles.  His wrists
were locked behind him, a blindfold and gag completed the ensemble, and he was
carried out of the room by four of the Inquisitors. 



	"I worry about him."  Hallia spoke, pulling on a robe.  She looked at
Kieron's aunt.  "I know what he faces, what he must go through to survive what
is coming."

	"As do I."  Serena replaced her hood.  "Though he is my blood, he will
receive no special favors or attention."  She walked towards the door.  "I
understand all of the Inquisitors he has bedded are pregnant."  She turned to
face the Lady Inquisitor.  "Perhaps you should have yourself examined."  There
was a note of amusement in her tone.



      Kieron took a deep breath when the gag was removed.  His ankles were
attached to a bar, and he was hung upside down.  He heard something drop near
his head.  The room was chill, and he shivered slightly.

      "You have one hour to free yourself."  His aunt spoke.  "If we return to
find you still hanging, you will be caned in place, one stroke for every minute,
and you will not be healed afterwards."

      Kieron took a deep breath.  This was something similar to what he had to
endure during his apprenticeship a long time ago.  He began to swing himself,
until he had enough momentum to bend backwards and grab the bar that held his
ankles.  He fumbled the best he could until he understood the nature of the
attachments.  His ankles were not locked to the bar, only hanging on via
snaphooks.  He released one hook, scrambling to keep his perch as one of his
legs swung free.  His other leg was released moments later, and he dropped
silently to the floor.  He folded himself into a ball and brought his wrists
from behind his back.  He blinked at the dimness as he removed the blindfold. 
By his feet lay a set of lockpicks.  The cuffs he wore were basic models, with
simple locks instead of the masterwork cuffs that required magick to unlock. 
Within moments he was free.  He stood and examined the room, slowly working the
muscles limber again.  He slowly felt his way around the seemingly sealed room. 
A jet of air alerted him to a crack in the wall, and he probed it slowly to
ascertain the nature of the crack.  He slid one of the lockpicks into the crack
and felt around.  The click that accompanied the opening lock sounded like a
thunderclap in the enclosed space.  The wall slid silently open and he emerged
to find his aunt and the assembled Inquisitors waiting for him.

      "Less than one quarter of an hour.  Very good."  His aunt spoke.  Now that
we have gauged the level of your present abilities, it is time to test your
combat skills."  A longsword was slid across the floor to him.  He stopped it
with a foot and picked it up, just in time to deflect a vicious overhand stroke. 
The hall was barely wide enough to allow such a battle, but he dodged and
parried against the superior force until such time allowed for him to escape.

      "HOLD!"  Serena ordered.  "Again you do well.  Your abilities are not
suited for direct frontal assaults, and you escaped when the opportunity
presented itself.  Now will focus on building your mental abilities.  Come with
me."

     

      Hallia waved for her council to be seated.  Ever since Kieron was turned
over to the Mistress of Training she had been moody and irritable, and the rest
of the council sensed why.  She listened to each report with her full attention,
gave the critiques and recommendations where needed, and dismissed them when it
was over.  She remained behind, her fingernails rapping on the table.

      "You wish to know of your pet, do you not?" Serena asked, taking the seat
opposite Hallia.

      "Yes."  Hallia replied simply.

      "He is well, and his training continues.  I would hope that he attains
some level of discipline before he is sent off."

      "As do I."  Hallia said. 

      "Have you heard of the others?"

      "Each is being readied as we speak.  Time is running out on us." 

      "Is there no way to delay what must happen?"

      "No, not even our vaunted Dragonriders can help in this.  I have received
word that the Empress will mobilize the Imperial Army next moon.  Can he be
ready by then?"

      "Perhaps.  Sending him with only six months training seems risky."

      "I have faith in him."  Hallia stood.  "In three weeks time we will leave
for the Aerie.  The rest of the party will be sent out after being briefed. 
Then we will report to the Empress and brief her."

     

      Kieron floated down gently from his perch.  The vast maze of underground
passages that served as the training hall for the Inquisitors was open before
him.  The past six months were relentless.  Each and every day he was worked
till he nearly dropped from exhaustion, both mentally and physically.  Today was
no different.  He woke up, ate a cold breakfast, then was escorted to one of the
halls where he was drilled and taught the Psychic Warrior's art.  Not all of the
trainees present were Inquisitors.  Many from other branches of Imperial service
took part as in training, however, only Inquisitors were taught the purely
Psionic disciplines.  Oddly enough, he was never punished during training, but
was always reminded that he was nothing more than a pet, a slave.

      He crawled though a small tunnel, making his way across the labyrinth to
his goal.  Inquisitors roamed the maze, using both their powers and mundane
whips and canes to chastise any who was unfortunate enough to be captured.  He
opened his mind and extended his senses, searching.  He pinpointed several
Inquisitors by their psionic signatures, and carefully moved around them.  He
was careful not to use too much power, for he was positive they could sense him
as well.  A soft bludgeon was his weapon of choice in the maze.  With it, he
could render unconscious an Inquisitor without any serious damage.  In this
test, in reality, any weapon was allowable, however, his submission to the Lady
Inquisitor instilled a deep respect and reverence for his Mistress, as well as a
respect for all those whom he considered dominant.  He koshed the first
Inquisitor on the back of the head, and caught her as she dropped.  He dragged
the body into a side alcove and tied her up quickly.

      "I'm really sorry about this."  He whispered into her ear.  Her eyes
snapped open a she frowned.  He retreated quickly and leapt up onto a ledge
along the hall.  He moved silently across the tops of the wall, keeping low and
to the shadows.  After a short period of simply watching, he made his move.  His
objective was a crystal on a pedestal in a rather well guarded room.  He chose
his approach quickly, utilizing surprise to break through the defenders quickly
and smash the crystal with a light warhammer.  The crystal exploded into a
thousand fragments, showering everyone with little cuts.  He was tackled moments
later by several of the Inquisitors.  The one he hit with the sap appeared in
his vision.

      "Congratulations."  She spoke.  Then she punched him in the jaw.  His
vision blurred under the punch.  When it cleared, his aunt stared at him.

      "You destroyed the objective, but did not escape."  That is unacceptable. 

      "Every scenario we've played out left no opportunity to escape.  They have
all been suicide missions."

      "Suicide is not an option in any scenario."  Her eyes were agates.  "I am
sure your Mistress would agree."

      Kieron closed his eyes.  How did one complete such a mission?  "There is
something I don't know yet, isn't there."

      "You are getting stronger in your abilities.  As you train, more you learn
more abilities, and strengthen those you know already."  His aunt looked at the
others.  "I think the time has come to see if he can walk 'between'."

	Walking 'between' was a specialized talent.  It allowed a person with
sufficient mental strength to open a 'door' to a nearby place.  It was perfect
for quick escapes and evasions.  Kieron worked on opening a portal for a solid
week along side his other studies.  After a grueling combat training session it
happened.  All he felt like doing was returning to his small chambers and
sleeping for a bit.  Without even thinking consciously about it, a portal
opened, and he stepped through, much to the surprise of his instructors.  He
fell on his bed and slept.

	He woke up abruptly.  He rose from his bed fully clothed, and made his
way through the training halls until he reached his aunt's chambers.  He knocked
respectfully and entered as the door opened.  His aunt stood there in conference
with two others.  She looked up at him and waved him to her. 

	"Kieron, things have turned for the worst and we have to leave tonight
for Aerie."

	"I don't understand."  He frowned.  "It has to do with my training,
doesn't it."

	"It does, but I will leave that for your Mistress to discuss with you." 
She nodded at the others.  "Come with me."

	He followed her out of her chambers, up the spiral stairs to the upper
floors of the Motherhouse.  It felt odd returning to such places.  Upstairs the
mood was grim, everywhere Inquisitors were readying for war.  Part of him was
nervous, even frightened at the implication.  She led him to the familiar
chambers of his Mistress, where even she was in the process of armoring up. 
Black leaf pattern scale mail dominated her armor, with armored sleeves of
leather protecting her arms.  A black helm rested on the bed that they once
shared.  Hallia took one look at him and he felt her tense.

	"I brought him as soon as he woke up."  His aunt spoke.  "Now if you
will excuse me I will return to begin my own preparations."

	Hallia nodded.  "Thank you Serena."  And the two of them were left
alone.

	"What is going on Mistress?"

	"This morning scouts spotted a vanguard of Iceholme warriors approaching
the Pass of Kruck.  The Imperial Army is in the process of mobilizing to meet
the threat.  However, the army is only a small part of a larger problem.  I had
hoped that you and the others would have time to be fully trained to deal with
the threat but time is a luxury we no longer have."  She floated a chest over to
him.  "Strip."  She ordered.  "Inside you will find more suitable attire."

	"I'm not a warrior Mistress."

	Conflicting emotions crossed her face.  "After tomorrow, you will be."

	Kieron slowly stripped off his clothes, confused.  He opened the trunk
and pulled out a pair of woven leather breaches, followed by a linen shirt.  He
quickly dressed under her watchful eye.  A soft leather vest followed, then the
armor.  It was mainly light armor, made of leather scales in a similar pattern
to what Hallia wore.  She helped him buckle it on, a look of sadness in her
eyes.  Once his boots were on she took up her arms and led him to the main hall. 
Hundreds of armored Inquisitors waited grimly.  On the platform that dominated
the main hall a gate opened.  Hallia took Kieron by the hand and led him forward
into the swirl of magick.  He stumbled against his Mistress, the alien power
washing across his skin as he blinked, trying to get his new bearings in the
strange place.  It was a hall similar to the one he just left, with the most
glaring exception being the ornate carvings of dragons in the walls.  A middle
aged human woman greeting Hallia warmly, glancing at him over her shoulder.  She
broke the embrace, then placed her hands on her hips as she examined him fully.

	"So this is the pet you have been hiding from us."  Her voice was warm. 
Her hair was braided into plaits, and coiled about her head.  Her armor was of
the similar scales that his Mistress wore, and she had the bearing of one who
wore it regularly.

	"He has turned out rather well, don't you think Syrena?"  Hallia
preened. 

	"Almost as well as my own pet."  Syrena countered.

	"Pet, greet the Lady General of the Empire."  Hallia said.

	Kieron knelt down before the woman and kissed her armored boots.  He was
conscious of the stares of the other warriors in the hall, but paid them no
heed.  As far as he was concerned, his Mistress's opinion was the only one that
mattered.  The woman raised his eyes to meet hers.

	"I am General Syrena Kamasdotter, commander of the Armies of the Empire. 
Do you know what faces us this day?"

	"No, my Lady."

	Syrena looked at Hallia.  "You didn't tell him yet?"

	Hallia shook her head.  "I will tell him soon enough."

	Tell me what?  Kieron thought.

	"Well," Syrena spoke.  "I have chamber prepared for you and your
Inquisitors.  How go your preparations?"

	"I brought along three hundred of our core warriors.  The rest will
rendezvous with the army on the march."

	"Good, Lady Danae will be arriving with the Tower contingent shortly. 
Lady Murelle...Lady Murelle will arrive when she arrives."  There was something
about the last Lady, something that made Kieron shiver.

	The hall rapidly filled with warriors.  Kieron felt himself being
shuffled off to the side as the warriors intermingled.  His arm was caught by a
half elf, who pulled him to the wall.  He wore light leather armor and a light
cloak. Decorating his throat was a collar similar to his, with the exception of
the tag on it revealing it to be of House Draconis. 

	"You might want to stick over here for right now.  It will be a while
before every one is settled in for the night."

	"Thanks," Kieron leaned against the wall.  "I'm Kieron."

	"Aerick."  The half elf replied.  "You have the appearance of a man who
has just been handed a handful of snakes."

	"I have no idea what is going on.  All I know is that Iceholme is
preparing to invade."

	"Invade is a minor word for it."  Aerick snorted.  "This is shaping up
to be a fight to the death."

	Kieron swallowed loudly. 

	"Trust me kid.  I've fought in wars all over this world.  This fight is
going to be bloody."

	Hallia appeared before them, followed by Syrena.

	"Oh, good."  Syrena spoke.  "I'm glad you two have met.  It will make
things easier."  She looked at Aerick.  "Commander Rochelle needs to pick your
brain on the southern holdings."  She pulled him close, her hand squeezing his
ass.  "And afterwards, my room."  She released him and swatted him on the ass. 
"Now scoot."

	Hallia smiled at the exchange.  "Pet, it is time for us to retire."  She
kissed Syrena.  "I bid you a good night sister.   Let me know when it is time
for the others to meet."

	

	The room provided by the General was just as lavish as Hallia's back at
the motherhouse.  Kieron laid his equipment on one of the dressers provided,
then proceeded to assist his Mistress in removing hers.  She stretched out in
the dim light of the room, her muscles flexing lightly as she turned to face
him. 

	"It has been a while, has it not pet?"  She wrapped her arms around his
neck. 

	"It has Mistress."  Kieron whispered.  She led him across the room to a
wooden cross.  He raised his hands obediently as she strapped him down, her hand
tickling lightly as they crossed his arms, down his sides, the nails raking
furrows on his ass.  He felt her power flare lightly, his ankles restrained
quickly and snuggly.  The warmth of her breath on the back of his neck.  He
closed his eyes as she tugged the blindfold on, his mouth open to receive the
gag.  No words were needed as her mind lightly touched his, her mental presence
just as close and reassuring as her physical presence.  Her tongue lapped at his
ear. 

	"I have been waiting for this pet."  She reached around to pinch his
nipples.  "I am going to torture and tease you until you beg for release."  Her
hand strayed down to his groin, to fondle the erection that stood out at full
attention.  Her nails raked the tender flesh, making him moan into the gag.  She
moved away from him moments later, but never far from his thoughts.  The light
touch of the flogger made him arch his back slightly, the soft leather lapping
at his flesh.  The blows alternated between light and heavy, the thud warming
him to accept more.  His mind began to float, his body twitched slightly under
his Mistress's gentle hand.  The whipping shifted, a more stingy sensation,
light, yet he could feel the marks forming as each strand impacted.  The pain
was hazy, a constant companion on this journey.  Just as suddenly as it started,
it ended, he shivered as his back cooled, only to feel the fingers of his
Mistress probe his ass.  He tensed up under the cinnamon oil she used, the
burning making him pull and tense against his restraints.  She laughed as he
struggled, trapping his hips in her hands as she steadied him.  The dildo
penetrated deep on the first thrust.  Kieron screamed into the gag as she slowly
withdrew, only to feel himself pressed into the cross as she began to rape his
ass.  The tension inside him built, the pain transcending to pleasure as she
worked him over.  He began to meet her thrusts towards the end, until his body
stiffened in sensory overload.  He barely felt her teeth sink into his shoulder
as her own orgasm claimed her. 

	He came to on the bed, Hallia on her side next to him, watching him, her
head propped up with one of her hands.  Her free hand rested on his stomach as
he turned to look at her.

	"You are sending me away, aren't you." He asked.

	She sighed.  "I wish it were that way.  Unfortunately, things are not so
simple.  There is a task that is needing to be done.  One that specifically
relates to you."

	"To me?"

	"Had your 'noble' in Orgues not sent you on your fool's errand, steps
would have been taken to assure that you were here with us when the time came."

	"Okay, now you are starting to scare me."

	She laughed and stroked his stomach.  "It was not my intention to do
so."  She sobered.  "However, a healthy dose of fear will help you get through
this."

	"Mistress, please tell me what is going on."

	"You are needed to perform a task for us.  The one you met, Aerick, will
help, as will two others you will meet later.  It is of vital importance that
this task be successfully accomplished.  It is in no way a 'suicide mission'. 
It is, however, one that is vital to the relatively peaceful removal of the
approaching army."

	"If the mission fails?"

	"Then it will be total war between the Empire and Iceholme."

	Kieron digested her words.  "I will do my best Mistress."

	"I know you will pet."

	"May your pet make a request?"

	"You may pet."

	"Make love to me."

	Hallia's hand paused in its movement.  "Once a Moon Elf mates, it is for
life."  She stared into his eyes.  "Are you prepared to accept the consequences
of being mate to a Moon Elf?"

	Kieron never hesitated.  "Yes."

	She leaned over and kissed him deeply.  "I can't.  Not yet."  Her hand
stroked his cheek.  "You will understand why very soon.  It is for your own
safety that I must refuse this request of yours."  She sat up.  "But that
doesn't mean I am not unwilling to give you a taste of what it means."

	Her body covered his, and he trembled slightly as her nipples brushed
his own.  He felt her tongue spear into his mouth, thrusting and tasting.  Her
teeth caught his lower lip and she pulled lightly, nipping.  Her mouth left a
trail down his throat, her tongue encircling each of his nipples, her teeth
pulling on the rings.  His erection brushed her inner thigh as she slid lower. 
She brushed the tip of his penis with her labia, sending shocks through his
body.  It was a sensual torture, slow and deliberate.  He looked down to see her
staring up at him, her breasts pressed around the skin of his penis, the stark
contrast of ebon skin surrounding pale flesh.  Her eyes were smiling as she
rubbed his penis between her breasts.  Without warning, she took him into her
mouth, her tongue working across his glans as she slid down, then up.  She
teased him to the point of orgasm, finally removing all tactile sensation at his
very edge.  His hips thrust the empty air as the denied orgasm raged through
him.  Hallia returned to his side.

	"That is but a taste of what it means to be my mate."  She said.  "Your
complete and total obedience is the price."  Her expression was distant.  "My
people are very sensual, yet, very, very private.  To take you to mate, you will
loose all freedom.  You will be my personal pet and toy until the end of your
days.  Is this what you want?"

	"Yes."  Kieron said fiercely.  "I've wanted you since that first time we
met at the Matron's house."

	She laughed.  "Matron?  Is that what you thought she was?  She runs a
stable of pretty boys for rent.  Matron indeed.  She is no true slaver.  She
does favors for us on occasion.  Perhaps before I take you to mate I will let
her have an hour with you so you can explain your error to her."  She chuckled
at the thought, then grew serious.  "Come, the others have arrived.  It is
time."

	She stood and retrieved her clothing and armor.  Kieron assisted her in
armoring up, then stood patiently as she did the same to him.  Before moving
towards the chamber door, she took his arm and let him to a huge chest that was
covered in strange runes.  She used her power to unlock it, then opened the
chest to remove a large bundle wrapped in silk cloth.  She reverently unwrapped
the hilt of the sword and presented it to Kieron.

	"Take the blade pet."

	The sword was large, much like a bastard sword; however, the blade was a
combination of crystal and steel.  The hilt plainly decorated, with a large
clear crystal embedded in the pommel.  To Kieron, the sword was light, yet cold. 
Very cold. 

	"Open your thoughts, focus on the sword.  Feel it."

	There was something in the sword.  Something dark and ancient.  Primal. 
Touching that core with his mind was like sticking his hand in a frozen ant bed. 
The crystal in the pommel of the sword began to glow a light rose color.

	"Excellent.  You have successfully bonded with the spirit in the blade." 
Hallia kissed him.  "You can call this blade to you as I call mine to me,
however, I would advise that you keep your gifts a secret for now.  Pretend to
be the man you were before you came to us."

	She led him from the room to the main hall.  For the most part, it was
empty for a few Dragonrider and Inquisition soldiers.  There were a few new
uniforms present, operatives from both the Black Tower and the Nightfall Clan
stood with their respective leaders.

	"It has been a long time," Lady Danae spoke, embracing Hallia.  "You
should get out more often."  The Arch Sorceress of the Empire was a plain
looking half-elf, dressed in a tight bodice and breeches, an ebon staff resting
in the crook of her arm.

	"Someone has to keep an eye on our enemies Esmerelda."  Hallia stepped
back.  "Perhaps a visit would be in order when this passes."

	"Agreed."

	Mists began to coalesce around the two, finally merging to form the
outline of a woman, then solidifying into the form of the head of the Nightfall
Clan.  Hallia embraced the woman warmly.  Kieron noted with slight alarm at her
unnaturally alabaster skin and red eyes.  His suspicions were confirmed when she
laughed at one of the remarks made.  The elongated incisors were a dead
giveaway.  She was a vampire, the Lady Murelle deCalaise duBranee, once a mortal
necromancer and assassin who fought in the Great War alongside his Mistress, now
an immortal necromancer and assassin vampire. 

	"Now that we are all here," Syrena spoke.  "We can get down to
business."  Aerick stood behind her in his armor, a pack at his feet.  He saw
that there were two other men along side the two newcomers.

	"This is the mission that you have all been prepared for." Syrena looked
them over.  "Successful completion of this mission will mean that the threat of
Iceholme will be neutralized for a long time.  Failure will mean a long, drawn
out war.  Each of you are masters of your chosen fields, and we have added to
your training the best we have been able.  I know it will be difficult on you
all having to work together in this, but it has been for the best that you were
all trained separately.  Aerick, former mercenary commander, will lead you to
your destination."  She nodded at Aerick.  "Kieron, former thief, yours it to
get the party into the heavily guarded Castile Torment.  Savren, sorcerer born,
you are to provide magickal support.  And finally, Sir Toril, Paladin of Sioban
Morning Star, to you will fall the harsh task of warrior to guard and protect
your fellows."  Kieron looked at the two new men, and then at the half-elf.  He
wondered what their stories were.

	Hallia looked at the assembled four.  "There is a crystal inside that
castle.  It must be destroyed."

	"What does it do?" Inquired Savren.

	"It has the power to detect and render Inquisitors incapable of using
their gifts.  Had such a crystal not been created, we would not have needed your
assistance in this matter."

	Esmerelda leaned on her staff.  "The castle is shielded from hostile
magicks.  It is relatively open to the mental disciplines of the Inquisition.  A
team of sorceresses, Inquisitors, and Assassins was sent in when we first
learned of the possible existence of the crystal, but they were killed.  Their
deaths must be avenged."

	Finally, Murelle turned her gaze on the four.  "They were killed by
Cymra the Black, once Lady Cymra, second daughter of Empress Corrine IV.  As per
Imperial law, the daughters of the Empress are to be trained in all of the main
houses.  She was a brilliant student, but flawed with ambition and pride.  She
sought to master skills and knowledge that had been forbidden since the first
Empress.  She was exiled four hundred and seventy two years ago.  She traveled
far, and learned much, including the dark rites of resurrection.  She cannot be
killed by mortal means.  She has aligned with the Lich King of Iceholme and
seeks to avenger herself upon us.  She must be destroyed.  She is an abomination
to everything we hold dear and sacred."

	"Now you know."  Syrena leaned on her spear.  "You are to penetrate the
interior of Iceholme, steal into the Castle, destroy the Dark Crystal, and
escape.  With the crystal destroyed, the Lich King will not support Cymra, and
we will be able to restore peace to the border.  The appropriate gear has been
prepared for you all, and you will all leave immediately.  Are there any
questions?"

	Hundreds of questions flashed through Kieron's mind, but he remained
silent. 

	Syrena nodded slowly.  "Then may the Goddess keep you all safe."

	Kieron took the pack of gear he was assigned.  He stole a glance at
Hallia, who appeared to be in deep conversation with the Arch Sorceress and the
Lady of the Silent Knife.  Aerick nodded to him as he strapped on his gear.  He
carried a great composite bow and a quiver of arrows, followed by a scimitar and
a long knife.  Kieron took up a bastard sword and a brace of throwing daggers,
stowing them in secret places that he might access them quickly.  Sir Toril wore
tarnished scale mail; a longsword and tower shield his companions, and finally
Savren, who carried nothing but a staff.  All four bowed formally to their
respective owners, then filed out silently to the portal that would take them to
a special site along the border.

	"Remember," Syrena said in parting.  "You have till the next full moon
to complete your task."

	And the four stepped through into the unknown.

Slave to the Empire:

Ranger 1



	Below a war raged.  Rebels from the outer provinces of Iceholme launched
a campaign of independence from their sorcerous masters, and despite initial
setbacks, they won as many battles as they lost.  However, the Lich-King took
matters into his own hands in the form of Cymra the Black, and she began her own
campaign of terror.  The rebel leaders sought assistance from out kingdom, and
hired one Aerick Se'trask, commander of the Ghost Wood Mercenaries.  Even the
addition of battle hardened mercenaries did little to halt the bloodshed of the
Soul Killer.  The leaders of the rebellion came to a decision, get the innocents
out of harms way, and get them to a safer place. 

	Aerick knelt on the rocky ledge and watched the ragtag refugee army file
past.  In the distance he could see the tell-tale flashes of magick as the
doomed rebels fought a reguard action to save their families.  The remainder of
his company acted as guard for the refugees.  As the last of the survivors past,
he waited along with several of his closest companions.

	"The rebels have been broken."  Kamwyn spoke.  The Sun Elf priest
shifted uncomfortably as he knew what was coming.  Aerick smiled grimly and
loosed his composite longbow and drew a rather special arrow.  It was the last
of a rather special set of arrows, designed to penetrate any magickal defenses
and slay the target instantly.

	"Get the men moving Kamwyn.  I'll be along presently."

	"The Gileadians won't like the border violation."

	"I know, but they will just have to deal with it.  The southern trade
route is our best chance of reaching the ports of Iilead."  Aerick could feel
the dark blot of the Iceholme armies approach.  "Go, I'll catch up."

	Kamwyn nodded and disappeared into the foliage.  Aerick waited for an
hour before the vanguard of the horde came into view, Cymra Soul Killer at their
lead.  He pulled the drawstring back fully and held it.  He took deep breaths,
the last holding it, releasing it simultaneously with the string.  The bow
silently launched the arrow, however, the arrow screamed as it ate up the
distance between it and its target.  The force of the impact launched the woman
from her mount, the arrow fletching brushed against the space between her
breasts.  Aerick smiled grimly and rose, slowly moving back, and then stopping
completely.  Purple lightning lashed out from the woman, draining the life from
those nearer to her as she fought the magick of the arrow.  Nearly half her
forces lay in a desiccated heap before she rose from the ground, laughing
insanely.  The remainder of her army lay in disarray behind her.  Aerick ducked
into the woods and made his way quickly to the refugee column. 

	"What in the name of all the Gods and Goddesses happened back there?" 
Kamwyn shivered.  "I felt a great loss of life back there."

	"Apparently Makiri found himself a new General.  One that can't be
killed."

	Kamwyn shuddered and pulled his cloak tighter about him.  "And the
army?"

	"In total disarray.  She killed half of them just to save her life."

	"Sir!"  One of the scouts appeared.  "The Southern Trade Road has been
blocked off by Gilead troops."

	"Damn."  Aerick ran his hand through his hair.  "Any way around them?"

	"No sir."  The scout caught his breath.  "They had skirmishers in the
woods."

	"Any losses?"

	"No sir, although one of our scouts has sustained minor injuries."

	"Have some of the scouts flank to the west."

	"But the border..."

	"The border is just a line on the map.  We'll make camp as close to the
border as we dare."  He looked at the thousand plus group of women and children
that huddled in the small canyon.  "And get them out of that canyon, one
landslide and no more refugees."

	The group made camp close to the Imperial border.  The mountains to the
south were nearly a stone's throw away, which marked the boundary between the
Empire and Iceholme.  Crossing the into the mountains wasn't likely to get one
into trouble, but crossing into the mountains to the point where one saw the
land beyond, that was trouble.  It was well known that dragons made their homes
in the rugged terrain of the mountains, and while everything seemed relatively
quiet, Aerick posted a round the clock watch on both fronts to make sure that
there were no surprises.  Aerick met with his commanders over the map of the
area in one of the side tents of the encampment.  He looked to each officer in
turn.

	"We need to get the refugees to the southern port of Tanis in Iilead. 
As you can see, the main Southern Trade Road runs close enough to the border of
Gilead that they feel they can lock it off to keep us from using it.  There are,
however, several small trails and passes that lead to, and cross over the border
to Imperial territory."

	"What do we know of the Empire, will they not be sympathetic to the
plight of the refugees?"  One of the officers asked.

	"Normally I would say yes, but things have been rather tense along their
northern border with Iceholme.  Where we are now brings us under the
jurisdiction of the Duchess of the Northern Prefectures.  I trust no one here
wants to be Dragon fodder?"

	No one laughed.

	"If we can get further south, we will be moving into the range of the
Duchess of the Eastern Prefectures, who might be more reasonable."

	"Sir, if I may," The head scout inquired.  "Why have the Gilead Republic
closed their borders to us?"

	Aerick glanced at his Sun Elf friend.  "Kamwyn?"

	The Sun Elf stirred from his stool.  "The Republic of Gilead is made up
of a loose confederation of Sun Elf and Wild Elf tribes, Centaurs, and other Fae
races.  They will not condone any actions that would jeopardize their neutrality
at this point.  They won't get involved in a war with Iceholme.  They might feel
more merciful if the Empire were openly engaged in the conflict, but right now
they are sealing their borders and keeping everyone out."

	"Make no mistake."  Aerick spoke.  "Our task is to get the women and
children to safety.  Once we make it to Tanis, ships from the Island Republics
will take our passengers to the outer islands.  Permission for immigration has
already been arranged."

	"I will make appropriate offerings to the Gods my friend."  Kamwyn
spoke. 

	"DRAGON!"

	Aerick and the others emerged from the tent to see a dragon soaring in
the distance.  It seemed to linger over the mountains, drifting.  Many of the
refugees started to panic, looking for a place to hide.  It roared, the sound
reverberated across the mountains as it slowly disappeared from view.

	"They know we are here."  Kamwyn spoke.  "This could be good and bad."

	"How so?"

	"Well, they will be watching us from now on.  Unfortunately they will
not interfere unless they too are threatened, or we stray too far from our
course."

	"As soon as everyone's rested, let's get moving again."  Aerick ordered. 
"We'll follow as close to the border as we dare."



	Night fell quickly in the north.  The refugees moved south, following
the mountains.  Aerick moved the group closer to the mountains, using the
foothills as cover to move and to hide their numbers from prying eyes.  He
watched the night carefully, one eye on the sky, the other behind them.  Kamwyn
stood with him.

	"There is something out there."  Kamwyn whispered.

	"You sense something?"

	"Yes and no.  I do have a bad feeling, and these are mainly hunting
grounds for the ork races.  And the orks are often allied with Iceholme."

	"Sir!  There is a large force approaching from the north and east."

	"Iceholme?"

	"Yes, and a large force of orks."

	"Damn."  Aerick looked at the scout.  "Relay orders to move the refugees
further into the mountains, and keep an eye on the two armies."

	"Are you contemplating crossing the border?"

	"If I have to make a slight border violation to get these people to
safety then I will do it."  Then to the scout.  "Any sign of Imperial forces?"

	"If they are out there sir, they are keeping quiet.  I would guess that
they have a few Moon Elves on watch."

	Kamwyn frowned at the mention of the Moon Elves.  Relations between the
Sun and Moon elf tribes have always been...less than cordial, which is no
surprise since both Elvish societies are polar opposites, with the Sun elves
taking an extreme patriarchal view whereas the Moon elves were strictly
matriarchal.  Kamwyn had been traveling with Aerick since he left his homeland
and peoples behind, and knew the reasons behind the young half-elf's leaving.

	"Let everyone eat one hot meal and rest for an hour, then get them
moving." Aerick ordered.  "I want twenty volunteers to act as rearguard."

	He waited quietly for the refugees to eat and rest, his twenty guard
stood nearby with weapons at the ready.  The scouts reported the armies no more
than four hours distant, and it would be a hard running battle for the group. 

	"Kamwyn, lead them to safety."  Aerick strung his bow.

	"You cannot do this." The Sun Elf spoke.  "You have a responsibility-"

	"I have a responsibility to safeguard everyone here.  Stay on the
Imperial side of the border, but do not venture more than a league into their
territory.  Once you have passed beyond the Iceholme border you should be safe,
but keep them moving."

	The elf nodded slowly.

	"Take care of them."  Aerick said, motioning for the other warriors to
move out.  "I will see you on Cathay."

	

	Arrows filled the air as thick as flies.  Aerick led his rearguard
action against the orks first.  It was only a few hundred, but they were unused
to the light forest that rested on the southern border of Iceholme.  Their snow
white fur gave them away, and made perfect targets for the arrows of Aerick's
rangers.  They led the orks north, along the border with the Empire, traveling
closer to the dark army of Iceholme.  Yet for every ten or twenty orks slain, he
lost one of his own warriors.  Down to ten warriors left, the surviving orks
came into contact with the force led by Cymra the Black.  It was a slaughter. 
The warlord of the north cared little for anyone or anything but herself.  He
pulled back his meager forces to watch the carnage, and curled his lip in
disgust.  Her army was back to its original size, for the dead had risen to join
her in her unholy crusade.  Aerick and his men withdrew to the border.  The
rocky hills providing cover and protection for his forces.

	"If we run across any Imperial forces, surrender immediately."  Aerick
warned.  "They will not give any quarter to those they feel are threatening
their lands."

	The warriors nodded solemnly, and they waited.  A column of dark
appeared at the edge of the woods.  The rangers drew their bows and loosed a
volley.  Volley after volley flew, yet few had fallen.  The undead shambled
forward under the relentless volley.  With his arrows expended, Aerick set down
his bow and drew his matched short swords.  The rest of his men followed suit,
each drawing their own personal weapons.  Aerick waited for the undead to get
into range before charging.  It was a silent battle, neither side emitting war
cries as they attacked, Aerick decapitating the first while dismembering a
second.  It was a doomed effort, as he soon found himself fighting his former
comrades that had fallen, each cursed to walk again as a slave to darkness. 
Again and again he fell back, stumbling at times, weak and weary at the unending
hordes.  Only three other rangers remained when the rear ranks of the undead
forces were engulfed in fire.  A pair of dragons flew by, incinerating the
walking dead as they passed.  Aerick covered his eyes as the dust flew up, a
gust behind them as another dragon unleashed cleansing fire on the rocks ahead
of him.  One more pass by the two flying dragons and the undead were destroyed,
and both landed off to the side.  He felt the ground tremble as the dragon
behind them landed.  He set his swords down slowly, followed by his daggers.  He
held open hands to his sides, as he slowly turned to face the dragon and its
rider behind him.  The huge reptilian face was less than a meter from his, and
by the size it could swallow him mounted on a warhorse easily.   Its scales
reflect bright silver in the sunlight, and the rider on its neck was lost in the
sun behind her.  His warriors dropped their weapons as well, disarming
themselves as per his orders.  It was an unconditional surrender.

	The rider leapt off the dragon and landed gracefully beside it, pulling
off her helmet.  It was an older human woman, with her auburn hair coiled into
an elaborate braid atop her head.  She tucked the helmet under her arm and
strode forward.  She was much taller than his five foot eleven frame, and said
nothing as she touched one of his slightly pointed ears.  She walked around him
once, then each man before returning to Aerick.  She held a long quirt in her
hand and tapped it against her thigh before speaking.

	"You have violated our borders and dragged us into your dispute.  This
is unacceptable.  There is a price to be paid."

	"I will pay it."  Aerick spoke. 

	She slapped him, hard.  "I did not recall asking."  Her eyes were dark. 
"You all have two choices.  First, you can walk right back over that border and
take your chances.  Second, submit.  And I will take you as slaves to House
Draconis."  She walked back and remounted her dragon.  "If you decide to become
slaves, strip, and walk that way."  She pointed further into the mountains.  "We
will find you again."  With a burst of wind, the dragon lifted off and arched
towards the mountains.  Aerick looked at his people.

	"Well?"

	"We're with you sir, in what ever you decide."  One of the Rangers
spoke.

	"I cannot command you in this.  If you decide to submit, then strip and
walk in the direction they choose.  Our best option right now is to submit."

	"Then we are with you sir."  He replied.  "We knew this was a one way
trip."

	It was not a responsibility that Aerick wanted.  His options were indeed
limited.  There was no feasible way for them to make it back to their comrades,
and he was positive that they were being watched.  He could live with himself
submitting, and he knew his men would submit along with him, but would they
survive their bondage?

	"Drink all the water you have on you."  Aerick ordered.  "I'm not too
sure how far they want us to walk."  The sun was mid way across its path in the
sky.  "It is about mid-day right now, so we shouldn't get too dehydrated.  We'll
keep a steady pace, if you feel sick, let me know."  He took a deep breath. 
"Ready?"

	They nodded, and all stripped quickly and quietly.  He worried about
burns from prolonged exposure to the sun as they started.  One of his men was of
very fair skin.  They walked in an orderly fashion, a steady pace kept as the
sun crossed the final leg of sky.  It was slow going as they entered the more
rocky terrain, the mountains growing with each step taken.  As the light faded,
the moons guided their path, until the faint glimmer of firelight could be seen
in a small valley.  He motioned for everyone to rest for a moment, then expended
the last of his personal magick to heal any minor wounds taken in the journey
thus far.  An hour later they reached the bonfire.

	There were jugs of water waiting there, as well as meat freshly cooked
on a spit beside the fire.  Aerick made sure to feed his men before himself
eating.  He sensed the presence of others before he saw them.  Eight women,
dressed in light armor and carrying spears, appeared at the edge of the
encampment.  Four women in dragon scale armor stood at the fore, each bore
chains and manacles, their leader the same warrior who gave him his choice.

	"By your own free will you have come."  She spoke, her voice echoing a
ritual.  "We, the Guardians of the North, accept you into our service."  Each
woman stood before a man.  The leader stood before Aerick, her eyes never
leaving his as she spoke.  "We bind you with chains of obedience."  As one, all
four were restrained.  "Yet for this there is always hope, for with time, the
chains shall disappear."  A collar was locked around each neck.  "And you shall
soar free once again."

	With a wave, the fire died out, engulfing the encampment in darkness. 
Aerick's darksight allowed him to see in the darkness, to follow easily at the
tug of the leash on his collar.  It wasn't easy to mount up on the dragon behind
her, but with assistance he managed to seat himself behind her.  With practiced
ease she released his wrists then recuffed them around her waist.

	He nearly lost his seat as the dragon launched into the air, and wrapped
his arms around her tighter as the wind whipped by him.  He closed his eyes and
shivered against the cold rush of air.  If there was one thing that truly
frightened him, it was heights.  He hated heights.  He took deep breaths and
rested his forehead against her back.  They remained in the air for what seemed
like an eternity.

	"Open your eyes."  She ordered.  "And look upon your new home."

	Ahead, a mountain unlike any he had every seen.  It was more like a man
made fortress than a mountain.  Large platforms surrounded it, and in the
darkness he could make out Dragons resting on them.  He saw upon the surrounding
peaks towers and platforms, as if the entire area was the home of the
Dragonriders.  They spiraled down for a landing on one of the upper platforms,
where they were met by several other guards.  He was unceremoniously handed over
to them, and was led into the great fortress.  He lost sight of his men, as they
too were brought in.  He ended up in a circular chamber, filled with large hot
baths and long tables.  An older woman, one who bore the look of a retired
warrior, looked him over.

	"The General's new slave?"  She asked.

	"Yes."  One of his escorts spoke. 

	"The usual?"

	"Of course."  She replied, handing over his leash.

	"It will be a few hours."  The older woman took the leash and led him
into the chamber.  She hung the leash over a bar and ran her hands over his
body.

	"I want you to answer my questions fully and truthfully."  She ordered. 
"And don't try to lie to me.  You won't like the consequences."  She poured some
oil onto her hands.

	"You are a warrior, yes?"

	"I am my lady."

	She chuckled.  "I am no 'lady', just an old soldier.  If you feel you
must address me by title, use Sergeant."  She began to rub the oil into his
body.

	"Yes Sergeant. I am a Ranger."

	"Ah.  And what was your previous experience?"

	"I commanded the Ghost Wood mercenaries Sergeant, for three years."

	"What was your last assignment?"

	"We were hired to provide support for the abortive Southern Reach
Rebellion in Iceholme.  The rebellion was doomed to failure, but the leaders of
the Rebellion wanted their families saved.  We managed to escort the refugees to
the border, but had to make, other plans to avoid the barricades of the Gilead
army."

	"You are half elf.  Was it your mother or your father who was an elf,
and which tribe were they from?"

	"My father was a Sun Elf.  My mother...my mother was a concubine."

	"In other words a slave."

	"Yes."

	"And you left because?"

	"My father got tired of her and had her 'dismissed'.  I never saw her
again."

	"Slaves here are never 'dismissed'.  Many will live out their life with
their owner, or for the more fortunate, become freemen and possibly taken as
mates.  There are no disposable slaves here."  She padded the top of the table. 
"Hop up."

	Aerick slid onto the cool leather surface.  With practiced ease she
flipped him over onto his stomach.

	"Now," She spoke.  "Will you give me any trouble, or will I have to
forcibly restrain you?"

	"I give you my word I will cause no trouble."

	She smirked.  "This is going to be amusing."  Her hands continued their
massage, and Aerick soon felt himself become light headed from her
ministrations.  His eyes popped open as she inserted one of her fingers into his
sphincter, eliciting a gasp from him.  Her other hand rested on the small of his
back as her finger felt and probed.  As she withdrew, he felt something, an
emptiness where her finger had been.  Almost as if something was lost.  It was
an odd feeling for him.  She appeared before him with what appeared at first to
be a rather large waterskin.  Only this one had a thin hose running from it. 
The skin disappeared from his view and he felt her hands rubbing his ass.  Her
finger darted into his opening again, applying something cool.  He shivered as
something was inserted.  At first he thought his senses were lying to him.  then
he became uncomfortable as something was flooding into his rectum.  He shifted,
only to have his ass slapped hard.

	"Remain still!"

	He tried to obey, but the sensations turned into a most uncomfortable
cramping.  Without missing a beat she restrained his ankles then wrists, her
weight pressing down into his lower back.

	"I warned you."  She spoke.  She spanked him again.  "Relax.  It will be
easier if you relax."

	Aerick tried to relax, however, he felt his emotions conflicted.

	What is happening to me?

Slave to the Empire:
Ranger 2

	Aerick was numb.  The past two days had been an ordeal that he never
would have imagined in his darkest fantasies.  He was both mentally and
physically exhausted, aching in places he didn't know he had.  Everything was an
evaluation.  A test as it were.  The woman who tested him varied with each test. 
The very first being endurance, hence the enema.  The second test was one of
crisis.  He was restrained to a post, his arm left free to hold two ropes.  One
rope was attached to a set of weights that threatened his genitals.  The other
rope was attached to a set of weights that held a rope at this neck.  The
quandary was simple, which did he value more, his life, or his manhood.  He held
on for as long as he could, his arms burned with stress as he tried valiantly to
hold both ropes.  The agony was excruciating when he released the rope that was
attached to his genitals.  He heard the pulley snap as the rope raced through
it, and braced himself for the pain of emasculation, but it never came.  He was
released from his torment and dragged to his next test, one of intelligence. 
His feet were encased in a set of stocks with his hands left free to manipulate
the puzzle box before him.  His captors did not make mention of how long he
should take, nor was he informed that it was a timed event.  He worked as
quickly as he could, the puzzle encompassing everything in his perception.  It
seemed the puzzle operated on multiple levels, utilizing all his senses to
unravel its mystery.  By the second day he had solved it.  He was allowed a
brief rest before the last test.  His dexterity was pushed nearly to the
breaking point, evading the numerous swinging weights as he walked a small board
across an open pit.  He made it across the chasm into the waiting arms of
Syrena.  She eased him to the floor and held him gently.  She was impressed by
the abilities demonstrated thus far.

	"General?"  One of her guard spoke.

	"Take him to one of the holding cells.  Let him rest and feed him. 
After he has recovered, bring him to me."

	"Yes General."  Two of the guard saluted and dragged the semi-conscious
Aerick to the lower chambers of the keep.  He slept on a straw bed, then ate a
surprisingly decent meal out of a wooden bowl.  He curled back up onto the bed
and tried to relax further.  His body rebelled at the abuse he had suffered. 
Every rumor or myth he had heard about the Empire paled in the light of the
truth.  He sensed no true malice in their attitudes towards him.  No rage or
anger.  Just a simple joy at working at what they do best.  It was strange, not
to mention unsettling.  A healer tended to his hurts, which were thankfully few,
and he was soon brought to the chambers of the General in the most secure part
of the citadel.  He stood at attention before her as she worked at his desk, and
in the space of moments, he took in her chambers.  They were spartan, a
warrior's quarters that held nothing of real value, with the exception of the
warrior's weapons and armor.  A simple bed lay against the far wall, no silks
for her, just plain blankets and furs. 

	"Are you finished?"  She asked, not looking up.

	"My apologies Lady.  I did not mean to intrude."

	"No offense taken boy."  She replied, looking up at him.  "You are a
fine specimen, a perfect blend of human and elf.  The resilience of a human with
the quickness and agility of an elf.  Not to mention a sense of honor.  A pity
so few Sun Elves could claim such qualities." 

	"Is it the intention of my Lady to discuss the short-comings of the Sun
Elf tribes?"

	She laughed.  "How very droll."  She stood and walked around the
cluttered desk and examined him in great detail.  "Yes, you'll do nicely."

	"My Lady?"

	She narrowed her eyes in thought.

	"There is a question how much I should tell you now."  She worried her
bottom lip.  "Damn."  She swore, returning to her seat. 

	"How familiar are you with Iceholme?"

	"It's not my personal pick for a vacation spot if that is what you are
asking.  I know it well."

	"The Ghost wood mercenaries made a name for themselves facing the dark
armies of Iceholme in the past, years ago if I recall correctly."

	"Yes my Lady."  Aerick felt himself relax slightly.  "About two hundred
years ago the Ghost Wood mercenaries engaged in several border clashes with the
armies of Iceholme."

	"Back in the day when Gilead had a spine."  She interjected.

	"True my Lady, very true."  Aerick agreed.  "The fall of House Koloth
heralded the end of the 'Golden Age' of Gilead.  Since then it has been several
power plays by the various houses to gain the Oak Throne."

	"You are from one of the more powerful houses are you not?"

	"You know I am my Lady."  Aerick shuddered, remembering the hostility of
the house where he grew up.  There was no joy whatsoever in that place.

	"There is a specific task I require of you.  If you are successful in
this you and your warriors will be freed to return to whatever endeavors you had
started on."

	"May I ask what this task is?"

	"You may ask."  She spoke.  "But you will find no answers.  At least,
not yet."

	"Yes my Lady."

	She stared at one of the few tapestries that graced the walls in her
chambers.  "I understand you encountered Cymra the Black."

	"Yes." 

	"Describe her."

	Aerick shuddered at the memory.  "She was armored in black, her skin was
like alabaster.  She wore no helmet, and was bald.  She carried some kind of
enchanted blade, and she was able to survive a soul-drinker arrow.  Is there
some way to kill her?"

	"Yes.  But that is not your task."  She leaned forward and rested her
head on the back of her hands.  "While you are here, I expect you to obey every
order without question.  Do you understand?"

	"Yes my Lady."  Aerick snapped to attention.

	"Good.  You will find your experience here no stranger than when you
first joined a military order.  We will be very hard on you, but fair.  Obey,
and you will be rewarded.  Disobey, and you will be punished.  It is as simple
as that."  She withdrew a set of knives.  Each one was different from the others
in terms of size and style.  She examined each one intently, before selecting
two of them.  She moved from the desk to slip her finger into the ring in his
collar, then led him to her private chambers.  A single bar hung horizontal from
the ceiling by a chain.  There were no other forms of device in the room, only
the bar.  She tapped the bar with one of her daggers.

	"Grab the bar."  She ordered.  He obeyed, holding on as she disrobed
him.  The simple cotton pants were cut from him, and he stood quietly for her
next move.

	"There are no restraints in this room."  She announced, circling him. 
"This room is used for disciplinary problems in the ranks.  I don't believe in
restraining a person, be it soldier or slave.  What I believe in is instilling a
sense of self restraint.  You will hold onto this bar, and you will not let go." 
She raised a dagger to her lips.  "This will be...most interesting."

	His shoulders shifted at the touch of the blade at his back.  The
sensations were sharp, the tip trailing down his spine.  He felt no wetness, no
sound of flesh being split, yet it was the undeniable sensation of the blade.  A
second blade joined the first, and they both danced along his flesh.  He closed
his eyes and arched his back, his hand clamped down onto the bar as the tips
traced a line of fire along his outer legs, slowly snaking up, across his ass,
weaving up his spine, until the tips left contact with his skin as the base of
his neck.  The cold metal of the blades tapped against his erect nipples.  He
gasped at the pressure of the points, each one seeking out the sensitive tips,
pressing in gently.  He couldn't keep his legs still as the blades sought out
his now erect penis, yet he kept his hands in place.  The points teased the
underside of his penis, and he was caught between the desire to pull away, and
the desire to thrust out for more.  His breath came in short bursts, the pain
transcended the threshold to pleasure.  The blades left his penis and reapplied
themselves to his nipples, his body leaned forward, increasing the pressure.  He
tried to understand, but his brain refused to leave the exquisite sensations he
was experiencing.  He shuddered, the blades again teasing his penis.

	"You have permission to cum."  She whispered, her voice seemed distant. 
"If you can."

	The pain/pleasure built slowly.  He didn't know his own name at the
heart of it.  The touch of her hand on his penis was odd, yet very pleasurable,
then nothing.  All physical sensation was removed.  His hips thrust the empty
air.

	He ached for contact, and very nearly let go of the bar.  And yet, he
held on.  His resolve was tested sorely as the blades returned to their teasing
pattern.    It overwhelmed him, and his seed spilt forth to splash against the
cold stone floor.  He felt her hands peel his fingers from the bar and place
them at his sides.  She rubbed the feeling back into his arms and shoulders,
then pushed him down to his knees.

	"Clean up your mess."  She ordered, then smiled at his search for a
cloth.  "With your tongue."

	He froze for a moment, then knelt further to touch his face to the white
pools of his essence.  Her hand stroked his hair to reassure him, and he slowly
touched his tongue to the largest pool.  It was...not totally unpleasant.  Salty
and thick.  He put it from his mind as he cleaned his mess.  He swallowed
quickly, and stood on wobbly legs as She led him from the room to a small bed
chamber.  He accepted the goblet offered and slowly sipped the wine.  She set
the daggers on the small desk besides the bed and sat beside him.

	"What are you thinking?"  Syrena asked.

	"Why did you do that?"

	"What?  Make you orgasm?"

	"It...it wasn't-"

	"Natural?"  She offered.  "Two things.  First, I needed to see how far
you would obey.  Second, I wanted to."  She raised an eyebrow.  "I admit that I
do enjoy seeing a young man in torment sensually.  The blades are something I
learned along the way.  They are very good at finding the sensitive spots."

	"Oh."  Aerick looked down.

	"Things will work out for you."  She said.  "These are to be your new
chambers.  You will have the freedom to roam certain areas of the Fortress, and
the Seneschal will have work assignments for you and your friends.  Nothing you
haven't done before."

	"Yes Ma'am."

	"We will talk further later."  She stood.  "I would like to know some
more of your history."

	"I am sure my Lady has volumes of information on the Sun Elf tribes of
Gilead."

	"I do, but I always like to hear first hand accounts.  There was a time
when Gilead was one of our strongest allies." 

	The door closed silently behind her, and Aerick lay back on the bed and
stared at the ceiling.  He was still running on the adrenalin high from the
scene earlier.  Nothing that she did to him hurt him, but it left its mark.  It
awoke something inside.

	

	Syrena returned to her office and poured herself a drink, then poured a
second and set it on the opposite side of her desk.  She sat and waited for a
moment, closing her eyes as a small portal opened and a woman stepped through. 
She was dressed in fine silks that accentuated her form.  In her hand she
carried a staff of purest ebony.  Her fair skin and golden tresses were accented
by the slightly pointed ears.

	"Welcome and be seated sister."  She spoke to the newcomer.

	"Thank You Syrena."  The woman sat and accepted the wine that awaited
her.
	"What news have you?"
	"Savren is doing well.  In fact, he has progressed further than expected
in so short a time."  The woman sipped her wine.  "I had to obtain clearances
from the Empress herself to teach him the deeper sorceries.  He will be well
versed in the magickal arts when the time comes."
	"Still, I worry about him."
	"I know you do."  The woman replied with sympathy.  "I have received
word that Hallia has already begun training her choice, as has Murelle."
	"So it is going to happen."
	She nodded.  "We all knew that this might come to pass one day.  I only
wished that bitch could have been eliminated before she became such a threat."
	"The Empress at the time prohibited any action against her, hoping that
she would repent and return to the fold."
	"There are some for which repentance will not wash away all the sins." 
The sorceress frowned.  She had not attained her position as Arch Sorceress at
the time of Exile, but had studied thoroughly the reports of the time from her
predecessor, and knew the true horrors that lay beyond the words.  Much of what
was described therein mirrored what happed to her family long ago in distant
Gilead.
	"Do not let the past anchor you.  We will have to think and act quickly
if we are to avoid total war."

	Aerick awoke to a hot meal.  He ate quickly and quietly, enjoying the
meal and the wine provided.  He still remembered the events of last night, and
he still felt the unseen marks of the knives.  It was a struggle to try to
evaluate his emotions on the matter.  He was no stranger to pain, his own
childhood and upbringing saw plenty of pain, but the way it was used to create
pleasure was something that he had no experience with.  It both worried and
exhilarated him.  A guard appeared to lead him to his owner, and he followed
quickly lest he give the impression that he was sloth in his duties.  He was
ushered back into her office and took the seat across from her as she indicated. 
She finished her paperwork and leaned back to stare at him.
	"I trust that you are suitably recovered?"
	"I am my Lady."
	"Good.  Tell me the story of Aerick."  She sipped from a goblet.  "Tell
me the tale that made you who you are."
	Aerick took a deep breath.  "I guess it all really began two hundred
years ago with the fall of the ruling house of Gilead.  The whole royal family
was butchered in an orgy of death and destruction.  There were no known
survivors of the House, and personally I believe the ones responsible for the
assassination would have quickly silenced any claimant they found.
	"I was born into the House of Kelibourne.  My mother was one of the many
slave concubines that my father purchased for the express purpose of breeding. 
By the time he was finished, there were twenty children born to him from his
women.  He was a bit unstable, and none of the other houses would have risked
their daughters to serve as a liaison to his house, despite the great power he
wielded.  So there we were, innocent babes that were nothing more than
disposable pawns to him.  Our mothers he kept alive just long enough to make
sure we would survive the rigors of childhood, then one by one, he killed them
or sold them off to common brothels.  He was a monster in the greatest sense. 
Those of us who did not develop according to his own lines were disposed of. 
His 'goal' was to produce the perfect heir."
	"And how did you get away?"
	Aerick closed his eyes.  "I killed him.  He was in the process of
providing 'discipline' to one of my sisters when I took a dagger and stabbed him
in the back.  I was nine years old.  I took my sister by the hand and we fled. 
We were separated in the escape, and I found myself working my way into the
border duchies, working where I could, stealing when I couldn't."  He barked a
short, harsh laugh.  "I found out later the bastard had a few priests in his
pocket and was resurrected the next day.  The sister I tried to save was
sacrificed that he might live.
	"I ended up in the Mercenary enclave at Caliban.  There I worked
hundreds of odd jobs to stay alive, and soaked up all the information that I
could so that I would never be vulnerable again.  Of course, as I reached my
fourteenth year, he found me."

Slave to the Empire:
Ranger 3


	"By the time I reached my fourteenth year, I had already become
apprenticed to one of the Rangers stationed at the enclave.  It was also about
that period that the Lady of the High Forest made her annual appearance at the
enclave.  The city of Caliban remained officially outside her jurisdiction, but
it was a hollow and never enforced regulation.  My Master's name was Kurne,
another half-breed like myself, only he was of one of the minor border houses
that did not have the biases the city houses had regarding children of mixed
blood."

	Aerick closed his eyes.  "Any semblance of morals or integrity was gone
from my father when he appeared.  He cared nothing for the laws of the enclave,
nor that of the sacred bond between those who lived in the woods and the higher
powers.  All he cared for was his own appetites.  He had with him several of his
retainers, all killers like himself.  He tainted the very soil with his
presence.  It didn't take him long to find me, and he taunted me mercilessly of
my own failures, all the while ignoring his own.  I had learned much from Master
Kurne in the arts of combat and survival, but I knew nothing of the ways of
magick.  My father tried to cast a spell on me, one of the forbidden spells, but
was interrupted before he could finish by the Lady of the High Forest.  One
minute he was in the process of casting the spell, the next he was on the ground
with an enraged High Elf standing over him.  I had never seen the Lady before,
only heard of her in muted conversations."

	"She is one of the Guardians, sovereign protectors of the natural world. 
We have regular dealings with them in all their guises."  Serena interjected.

	"Yes."  Aerick agreed.  "She was most definitely a Guardian.  I can't
really describe her form, simply because it seemed to shift ever so slightly. 
One moment you are looking at something, the next something else.  What I
managed to see was a woman covered in a form of armor that looked like treebark,
then hide.  The type of magick that my father practiced was not allowed in her
territory, and generally it was frowned upon in the rest of the kingdom.  She
had him pinned to the ground with some kind of stake, he screamed so loudly, and
his retainers were about to attack until they were restrained by the Mercenaries
present.  They would allow none to interfere in the High Lady's business.  She
destroyed him, a stern reminder that death, nor nature, would not be denied.  I
received my first lessons of magick in that one moment.  For all things, there
is a price.

	"She took me in after that event, and began my instruction in magick.  I
still studied the ways of the Rangers with my Master, but it was the High Lady
that taught me much about the natural world.  I alternated training time between
the two, and once I reached my thirtieth year, I was recruited into the Ghost
Wood Mercenaries on both the recommendations of the High Lady and Master Kurne. 
I served in the unit ever since, finally ascending to command of the unit on my
hundred and third birthday.  From there I led the unit in campaigns and
skirmishes along the Iceholme border and running battles through the Seven
Realms.  I am sure that there is much that you do not already know about me."

	"Very true."  Serena admitted.  "Our intelligence network keeps track of
many of the independent militaries in that interact along Imperial borders. 
Your command of the Ghost Wood Mercenaries has been exemplarily."  She leaned
back.  "How much do you keep track of the affairs of Gilead?"

	"Not much since the Mercenary Enclave moved from Caliban to Kallis in
Iilead."

	"Would you be surprised to learn that most of the great houses of Gilead
were under the influence of Iceholme?"

	Aerick snorted.  "No, I'm not surprised."

	"Good.  I would be disappointed in you if you were."  She stood.  "The
great houses are not wholly under the influence of the Lich King.  They find
that turning a blind eye to events more to their liking, believing in the
strength of their armies to stave off any threat.  Unfortunately they have
fallen prey to their own visions of invincibility.  The High Lady, nor any of
the Fae Tribes, will support a co-existence with Iceholme.  Nor will they lend
armies to defend the great houses."

	"Have the great houses degenerated that much?"

	Serena shrugged.  "The waters of that pond are so muddied it is
difficult to tell a fish is a fish."

	She motioned for him to follow, and led him back to his chambers.  "Get
some rest.  Tomorrow you will learn a few new tricks."



	Aerick woke after a dreamless sleep to a room of deepest chill.  His
eyes focused on a woman in the palest white.  Her entire countenance radiated
the cold chill of the north.  The only feature that stood out from her colorless
form was her eyes, eyes of ice blue that shone like beacons in the dim light of
the room.

	"Speak to me boy."  Her voice sharp and brittle as ice shards.  "Speak
to me of magick."

	There was little indication of her true age, or even if she aged at all.

	"If I might inquire as to which kind M'Lady means?"

	"Foolish boy.  Do you presume to lecture me on Magick and all its
glories?"

	"Is that not what you asked?"

	Her eyes narrowed to slits.

	"Impertinent."  She spoke.  "Yours is the magick of the earth, of
nature.  What do you really know of it boy?"

	"Earth magick is derived from all that lives and grows in the earth.  A
properly trained Earth Wizard can utilize the power and life-force of the earth
to work his magick.  Consequently, an Earth Wizard is attuned to the balance of
nature in ways that transcend mortal flesh.  Most of those who practice such
magick are either Druids or Rangers.  Druids serve as the healers and shepherds
of the earth, whereas Rangers serve as its defenders."

	"And how do you describe your Mercenary life in its relation of the
duties of a True Ranger."

	"By taking contracts that would bring me into direct conflict with those
who would despoil the earth.  Rangers are usually bound to a set place; those
who are not wander taking care of the small tasks.  I see myself engaging in a
proactive defense."

	"By waging war?"  Her robes rustled silently.

	"As I said, only against those who defile the earth."

	"How...judgmental of you."  She spoke.  "And how can you tell what is
defilement and what is nature?"

	"I don't understand."

	"No, you don't."  She seemed to float to the door.  "Come."

	He rose from his bed and dressed quickly, following the cold lady
through the labyrinthine corridors of the fortress to a small, barred door at
what seemed to be near the top of the fortress.  The woman touched the bars and
they withdrew, the door opening silently to a world of white.  She took Aerick's
hand and led him into the world beyond, where they emerged into the wild untamed
lands to the north.  He wrapped his arms around him as the cold artic wind
enveloped him.  His guide turned to look at him.

	"Are your skills so poor that you cannot warm yourself?"

	"I...I am bound not to work my magick while I am in bondage to the Lady
of the Dragon Riders."

	"You are freed from the constraints for this period of training.  Warm
yourself, and follow."  She turned her back on him and moved away. 

	Aerick swallowed and focused his strength into his hands.  The earth
magick he had been taught was one of mainly gestures, and he quickly wove his
hands in the proper sequence to invoke a simple warmth spell.  He breathed
easier as the magick flowed about him and wrapped him in its warm embrace.  He
followed behind her as best he could.  Her natural coloring made it nearly
impossible for him to keep up, but he did.  He caught up with the woman as she
overlooked what appeared to be a permanent encampment.  Below in the swirling
snow, humans and orks interacted in the daily life of those who live in the
lands of summer sun and winter night.

	"Observe."  She commanded.  "In other lands, they would be mortal
enemies, but here, the land does not forgive mistakes.  Survival takes
precedence."  She turned to survey the landscape.  "Look around you, is there
not life, is there not beauty to be found in the bleakness of the cold north. 
You claim to fight against the dark powers, but there are none here.  There is
no defilement, only the balance of life and death.  You have seen all your life
that the evil that affects your people comes from the north.  It does not.  It
comes from those who would use their powers for their own end.  Magick is a
tool; it can be used for good or ill, all depending on the heart of its
wielder."

	"You sound frighteningly like my teacher."

	"Of course.  Who do you think taught her?"

	Aerick studied the woman quietly.  He knew little, save for the
information that Serena provided to him on the Guardians.  His teacher spoke not
once of her own teacher, or how she became a Guardian herself. 

	"What you must learn, is the magick of the northlands.  You must learn
how to use the land to protect and conceal you.  Your life will come to depend
upon it."

	"I assume that all this is related to this mysterious mission that I am
to go on."

	"You...and others."

	"Others?"

	"There are many layers to this task.  Many objectives that must be
completed in such a short time.  There is-"

	"A prophecy?"

	"No, no prophecy, no legend or mystic quest."  Her eyes bored into his. 
"There is great danger in this undertaking.  None of you may survive it."

	He shivered despite the spell of warmth. 

	Her hand touched the side of his face.  "Do not let the future trouble
you needlessly.  It is not yet written."

	She led him further into the wilderness, to an ancient ruin of a
forgotten age.  He looked for signs of habitation, but found none apart from the
occasional ice bear.  He felt the rush of earth magick billow up from the earth,
and the large central stone in the center of the chamber began to emit a soft
ruddy glow, along with warmth that rivaled the greatest of feast halls.  He saw
the flow of magick in the chamber, from a great pool of life beneath the ruins
it ran, though many of the passages and channels it flowed were blocked, the
great hearth stone of this place remained intact.

	"You see the ways of this place's magick."  She spoke.  "It is a good
beginning."  She paced the chamber.  "Open yourself to the magick of the
outside.  Open yourself to the magick of the north."

	Slowly, he let down the magickal defenses that he had built long ago. 
It came upon him as a flood.  Indeed there was life here, as well as death.  All
in perfect harmony.

	"How is it there is so much of the dark magick here in the north?"

	"It is the cold.  The winter chill is as a preserver for dead flesh.  Is
there not a device used by many of those who live in 'civilization' that
preserves meat?  A creation of simple magicks that uses the winter chill?"

	"Is it all so simple then?"  Aerick looked at his new teacher.  "The
undead kept chained in their forms by the cold of the north?"

	"Simple? No."  She shook her head.  "Not so simple.  Before the
Lich-King began his reign, this land was in balance and in peace.  The rights of
life and death were perverted, warped when the death-lord took the throne.  Upon
you I lay this charge.  Restore the balance.  You know the Rights of the Wood
and the Hunt.  I will teach you the Rights of Death.  Lay the restless dead back
into the womb of the earth."



	"What of Cymra the Black."  Aerick asked many weeks later.

	"She is not your concern.  Another will decide her fate."

	

	Aerick moved through the snow drift without track.  For many months now,
he had studied the ways of the north until his teacher saw that he had mastered
the skills needed to survive.  She was not an easy taskmistress, for often she
hunted him in the wilds of the icy north, and she was not merciful on those
times she caught him.  This was the final test of his abilities.  It was not an
easy task, for She was looking for him always.  His goal was the portal from
which they arrived.  She showed him exactly where it was, and how to activate it
to return to the Fortress of the Dragon Riders.  He used his newfound magick
sparingly, instead relying upon his own natural talents and training as a Ranger
to guide him.  He crossed the great ice fields along the Frozen Sea, angling
near the small villages of the northmen, yet remaining distant, leaving no trace
of his passage.  He felt Her presence near, yet far.  He moved quickly,
silently, stopping only when needed, and resting lightly upon the ice.  It was a
race, with the prize for winning being a warm bed in the fortress.  Failure
meant a night of pain.

	The gate back to the fortress was on a plateau on the edge of a
mountain.  The portal hung motionless in space, a scant few inches above the icy
ledge and could be accessed from either side.  He stared up at the glowing
apparition, nearly a thousand paces up the side of the mountain.  Several trails
were available to take, but he chose none of them, instinctively knowing that
they would be both watched and trapped.  His best chance was to climb the shear
wall, but to do so would require an expenditure of magick that might be
detected.  Passive magick, magick that affected the caster, was hard to detect,
but to those whose senses were attuned to the flow of magick, it was detectable. 
Active magick, on the other hand, would be like ringing a bell since it affected
the world around the caster.  There was a chance, however, to perform a slow
casting, drawing out the ritual magick so that it made only the faintest whisper
in the matrix of life.  The only drawback was that it would take the most time,
and any interruption would be cause to loose his concentration and have to start
again.

	A last option, try to free climb the mountain.  It would be extremely
difficult, but it would be the safest course against an opponent who used magick
exclusively.  Aerick rubbed his hands together before placing them on the rock
face.  Slowly he inched his way up.  He could sense Her searching for him
magically.  He took a chance and pulled in all of his of active spells.  The
rush of icy wind nearly cost him his perch, but he persevered.  He felt the
warmth leave his extremities first, the first warnings of hypothermia. 

	He couldn't feel his fingers when he reached the plateau, nor his toes. 
The portal glowed before him, awaiting him.  He leapt forward and rolled,
expecting Her to appear and stop him but nothing hindered his roll through the
gate, and onto the floor of Serena's office.  A warm fire roared in the
fireplace, and there was food waiting on a cart near her desk.  The chair facing
her desk was occupied.

	"Did you enjoy your stay with Mistress Freyja?"  She asked, her
attention fixed on the documents she was reading.

	"It...it was an experience."  Aerick stammered.

	She looked up and examined him.  "A few bits of frostbite I see."  She
turned to face the occupant of the chair.  "Well?"

	Mistress Freyja stood and faced her student.  "An interesting solution
to a difficult problem."  She turned to Serena.  "I have taught him as much as I
can in such a short period of time.  Should he survive," She turned to face
Aerick again.  "I would like to...test him further."

	"Done and done."  Serena replied.

	Mistress Freyja fixed her gaze upon him as she blurred slightly, them
disappeared.

	"Go see the healer, then get some food and rest."  Her expression was
serious.  "Tomorrow things will be much different."

Slave to the Empire:
Ranger 4


	It was quiet on the mountain.  Aerick hung from the ropes on the side of
the peak, overlooking the main Aerie, his eyes taking the magnificent dragons as
they sunned themselves on the specialized rocks.  A gust of wind threatened to
take his perch from him, and he looked up at the hovering dragon.  It seemed to
stare right through him, before wheeling on a wing to rise further into the air
on the thermals.  Aerick checked his harness before rappelling down the cliff
face to the small ledge that led to one of the balconies of the Fortress.  With
a sigh he returned to the halls of the Fortress, his mind remembering the
stillness and beauty of the mountains.  He was met at the juncture by a pair of
Dragon Riders, who escorted him to the main training hall.  Syrena was
overseeing a training exercise between several Imperial Army regulars and their
Inquisitorial counterparts.  Aerick had little interaction with any of the
regular army soldiers or the Inquisitors.  He had heard many stories about the
Inquisitors, and their methods, and he did not relish meeting any under these
circumstances.

	Syrena nodded as he approached, and motioned for him to take his place
beside her as she observed the training.  The main training hall held several
thousand warriors, many of which were sparring one on one and company vs.
company.  The very nature of the hall allowed this, created shortly after the
formation of the Empire a thousand years ago.  It was a product of great magick.

	"The time has come for all things to be revealed."  She spoke.  Beside
her was an ebon skinned elf with platinum hair that Aerick immediately
recognized as one of the Moon Elf Tribe.  "This is Inquisitor Sharie, head of
the Inquisitors stationed here.  The Inquisition also runs the Intelligence
service in the surrounding kingdoms." 

	She led him and the Inquisitor back to her office where she sat wearily. 
"Well Inquisitor?  What is it your Mistress's message."

	The Moon Elf sat and relaxed.  "There has been a great deal of
communication between Iceholme and the various Gilead Houses as of late.  From
our last reports, that communication doubled within the last week.  We do not
expect the armies of Gilead to mobilize, there is way too much friction between
the Houses and the Fae.  Iceholme, on the other hand, has been mobilizing ever
since the survivors of the abortive rebellion in the south marches made it to
their destination.  We estimate that they will attempt to invade the Empire."

	"Is that even possible?"  Aerick inquired.

	"There is...a complication."  Sharie spoke.  "They have created an
artifact that could possibly render our forces ineffective against their forces. 
That artifact must be destroyed."

	"Hence my presence here."  Aerick spoke.

	"You will not be going in alone.  There are three others that are
finishing their training as we speak.  The four of you will destroy this
object."

	"What is my part of this mission?"

	"You will lead them to the Castile Torment.  There you will assist the
one who is being trained to destroy the artifact."  Syrena said. 

	"What is the nature of this object?"

	"It is Psionic in nature.  Beyond your ken."  Sharie spoke.  "The High
Inquisitor herself is overseeing his training."

	"What of the Castile?  What are its defenses?"

	"The Castile is located near the Great Ice Wall.  It is relatively
large, similar in scope to that of a Gilead fortress.  There are, however,
extensive underground chambers and levels.  The fortress used to belong to a
northern wizard that died during the Wars of Azoura the Mad.  It was taken over
by then apprentice of Azoura, Makiri, then a mortal sorcerer.  The defenses of
the Castile are standard for a fortress of its size; the main protections are
against hostile magicks.  There are ways around the magicks that can be devised,
but it would take an army just to fight its way to the Castile so that those
defenses can be neutralized.  It is relatively open to the Mental Disciplines of
the Inquisition, but the artifact therein prevents any such attempts to breech
the Castile."

	"Are there any maps of the area?"

	"They will be provided." Syrena spoke.  "Right now I need you to make
out a list of equipment that you will need besides the standard campaign packs."

	"That will be simple." Aerick replied.  "How many will be going on this
mission?"

	"Four, including yourself."

	"Four?  Is that not a bit small for a raid?"

	"Your mission will require stealth instead of brute force.  Your object
is to get in, destroy the artifact, then get out.  Once the artifact is
destroyed, the northern army will disperse."

	Aerick frowned.  "When do I meet the rest of the team?"

	"Soon.  We have confirmation that the Lady Inquisitor Hallia will be
arriving within the week with her forces.  The Lady Esmerelda  and the Lady
Murelle should be arriving shortly after that."

	"One thing we will definitely need will be mountaineering gear."  Aerick
said, scribbling a list out for the Lady General.  "Any fortress like you
describe will be looking for magickal support or activity of some kind. 
Rappelling up the walls would be the safest bet."

	"I'll have the gear added to the packs."  Syrena spoke, accepting the
list.  "The kitchens will be serving the evening meal soon so I will see to the
additions before then.  I will see you then Sharie."  The Moon Elf rose and
bowed gracefully, then left.  Syrena leaned back into her chair and rubbed her
eyes. 

	"There are times I feel I am getting too old for this."  She spoke, then
looked up at Aerick.  "I want you to rest up as much as you can for this.  I
want you back in one piece."



	The days flowed one into the other, drawing down to the day when the
four would be gathered.  Aerick trained hard, honing his skills for the mission
ahead.  He knew the day had arrived when the entire dragon wing took flight and
the garrison went on high alert.  Aerick took his place with the General as she
led him toward the gate hall.  The hall was situated near the heart of the
fortress, designed and built to re-supply the fortress in times of war, not to
mention allow reinforcements to arrive in safety.  Because of the function of
the hall, it was larger than the training hall by several hundred meters.  He
had no idea that such a structure even existed in the fortress, even after all
this time.  Great frescos of Dragons lined the hall, paintings of great battles
of a bygone era, as well as sculptures of great warriors.  The general wore her
full armor to the hall.  It was dragon hide armor, master crafted in a scale
armor pattern, and quiet enchanted.  He could feel the magick radiating off it. 
She handed her helm off to an aide and turned to him. 

	"The Lady Inquisitor is bringing the first wave of her forces through
the gate very soon.  Accompanying her will be her pet.  See to it he is kept out
of the way for the time being."

	"Anything specific I should do?"

	"Be yourself."

	At the far end of the hall stood a vertical stone circle, marked with
runes and glyphs of warding and traveling.  A small dot of incandescent energy
appeared at the heart of the circle, and began to pulse until it became a gate. 
Syrena began to walk towards the gate just as a pair emerged from the gate and
began to walk down the steps.  It was a Moon Elf that led them in full armor. 
Behind her walked a human male dressed in similar armor.  Syrena approached the
Moon Elf and embraced her warmly, then she stood before the human who knelt and
kissed her boots.  More Inquisitors began to emerge from the gate, until the
hall was nearly full of troops, both Dragonriders and Inquisitors.  The young
human was shuffled off to the side and looked a bit lost.  Aerick made his way
from the wall where he had positioned himself.  The young man seemed to be no
more than twenty years, but he wasn't sure.  He reached out and took the human's
arm and pulled him to the side.

	"You might want to stick over here for right now.  It will be a while
before every one is settled in for the night."

	"Thanks, I'm Kieron."

	"Aerick."  The half elf replied.  "You have the appearance of a man who
has just been handed a handful of snakes."

	"I have no idea what is going on.  All I know is that Iceholme is
preparing to invade."

	"Invade is a minor word for it."  Aerick snorted.  "This is shaping up
to be a fight to the death."

	Kieron seemed nervous. 

	"Trust me kid.  I've fought in wars all over this world.  This fight is
going to be bloody."

	Hallia appeared before them, followed by Syrena.

	"Oh, good."  Syrena spoke.  "I'm glad you two have met.  It will make
things easier."  She looked at Aerick.  "Commander Rochelle needs to pick your
brain on the southern holdings."  She pulled him close, her hand squeezing his
ass.  "And afterwards, my room."  She released him and swatted him on the ass. 
"Now scoot."

	Hallia smiled at the exchange.  "Pet, it is time for us to retire."  She
kissed Syrena.  "I bid you a good night sister.   Let me know when it is time
for the others to meet."

	Aerick nodded and disappeared into the crowd.  He made his way to one of
the garrison command centers where he reported to the Commander in question.  It
was a routine briefing, where he related everything that happened as he
commanded the Ghost Wood Mercenaries during their last campaign.  He observed
the large map set into the floor of the command center, detailed down to the
last shrub, and the force markers of all armies involved.  He left as soon as he
was able, returning to the living areas of the fortress.  He was ushered into
the General's quarters without a word.  Syrena sat at the desk that dominated
the left side of her quarters, going over paperwork.  She waved him to take a
seat as she finished filing the reports.  "Forgive me of the illusion earlier. 
Hallia has a certain...ideas about the proper relationship between a Mistress
and her slave.  I, on the other hand, have my own ideas."

	"If you will forgive me for saying so, but this has been more like
advanced Ranger training than slavery."

	"Perhaps.  I have no desire to force an unwilling person.  If I could
not have used you, I would have turned you over for sale to a more traditional
Mistress.  I am a warrior first and foremost."  She stood.  "I admit, although,
that I do enjoy the pleasure of a young body on occasion."

	"So what happens now?"

	"Now?"  Syrena tapped her finger against her chin.  "An interesting
question that."  She stood and crossed the space between them. With her hand,
she reached out and stroked his face.  "Strip."

	Aerick slowly disrobed, his eyes fixed upon hers.  In her hands appeared
several coiled ropes.  Without a second lost she bend one of the ropes into
equal halves and knots one end, making a small loop at the end.  She sets the
knot behind his neck and pulls the twin ropes across his chest.  Three knots
follow down the front, the last set just behind his testicles, looping the ropes
behind him and passing them through the loop at the back of his neck.   She
paused as she completed a simple tortoise shell rope bondage and stepped back. 
Taking a second rope, she bound his arms and legs, until he was as an immobile
statue.   He wasn't surprised in the least when she hefted him over her shoulder
and carried him towards the end of the room.  With the wave of her hand across a
jewel set in the wall, a chain silently descended.  She set him on his feet and
attached the chain to the anchor point where his arms were bound behind him. 
His feet brushed the floor as he was lifted into the air.  Syrena pulled on a
pair of black gloves and adjusted them until they seemed a part of her hands. 
Aerick jerked as the gloves made contact with his skin.  There were points on
the palms and fingers of the gloves, and they poked and teased the sensitive
skin.  He closed his eyes at the sensations, and pulled at the ropes as her
hands enclosed his genitals and pressed gently.  His senses screamed at him as
she continued the sensual assault upon him, not letting him catch his breath as
she shifted tactics to a set of feathers.

	The light touch under the head of his penis almost drove him over the
edge, but she was a master at the art of sensual teasing, and would stop just as
he approached the edge.  His eyes opened to meet hers.  She smiled at him and
brought his head down to meet hers.  The kiss that followed was gentle, yet
forceful.  She would have her pleasure from him, but at her pace and her need. 
Her finger sought out his nipples and squeezed them lightly at first, then
harder.  He felt the sharp points of the gloves dig into the nipple, and he
moaned into the kiss.  She broke the kiss and smiled again, her hands roaming
down his chest and body until she gripped his ass.  He felt his erection brush
her stomach as she squeezed and pulled him to her, and then she released him,
the gloves ending up on a heap in the floor.  His feet touched the earth once
more as she undid the ropes that bound him.  With a finger in the ring in his
collar she led him towards her bed.

	"Undress me."  She commanded, relinquishing her hold upon him.

	Aerick obeyed, his hands working quickly to unfasten the leathers that
she wore and place them on the small chest at the foot of her bed.  The boots
followed and he was pushed forcefully down on the bed.  she straddled him and
pinned his arms to the bed.  She shook her hair loose and kissed him again,
tasting him.  Her feet and legs pinned his, and she slowly sank down on his
penis.  A part of him mind recognized it as sort of a hero's sendoff, but he
brushed the thought aside as he felt the walls of her vagina clamp down on him. 
It was just as slow and torturous as when she used the gloves and feather, and
he tried not to reach orgasm before she did.  He worked his penis in and out
slowly, matching her pace for pace until he felt as if a clamp had been applied
to his genitals, albeit a warm and wet clamp.  She made a growling sound as he
felt her reach orgasm."

	"Come now!"  She growled.

	Aerick thrust deeply once more as he came, her fingernails digging into
his wrists.  Both remained motionless for what seemed to be an hour before she
lifted herself off of him.  She released him fully and rolled off the bed and
onto the floor.  She padded across the room to a small table and poured a glass
of wine, sipping it as she returned to the bed.  she offered the glass to his
lips and he drank slowly.

	"Thank you." She spoke. 

	"You are welcome."  He replied, moving to make room for her.  She slid
back into the bed.

	"I should have done his earlier, but the timing wasn't right."  She
admitted.  "You will take care of yourself while away, won't you?  I would hate
to release your people without their commander."

	"You will release them?"

	"Yes."  She set the glass on a small table beside the bed.  "Now get
some rest.  Tomorrow it begins."

	

	Aerick woke in an empty bed.  His armor and gear were laid out before
him, as well as a small meal for which to break his fast.  He ate quickly and
pulled on his clothes and armor.  With everything in place, he slipped out of
the room and to the hall where they were to assemble.  He came into the hall as
the rest of the party arrived, and kept to the side as soon all four of them
were present.  He kept well away from the vampire as she appeared, and
approached a fully armed and armored Syrena as she got everyone's attention.

	"Now that we are all here," Syrena spoke.  "We can get down to
business."  Aerick stood behind her in his armor, a pack at his feet.  He saw
that there were two other men along side the two newcomers.

	"This is the mission that you have all been prepared for." Syrena looked
them over.  "Successful completion of this mission will mean that the threat of
Iceholme will be neutralized for a long time.  Failure will mean a long, drawn
out war.  Each of you are masters of your chosen fields, and we have added to
your training the best we have been able.  I know it will be difficult on you
all having to work together in this, but it has been for the best that you were
all trained separately.  Aerick, former mercenary commander, will lead you to
your destination."  She nodded at Aerick.  "Kieron, former thief, yours it to
get the party into the heavily guarded Castile Torment.  Savren, sorcerer born,
you are to provide magickal support.  And finally, Sir Toril, Paladin of Sioban
Morning Star, to you will fall the harsh task of warrior to guard and protect
your fellows." 

	Hallia looked at the assembled four.  "There is a crystal inside that
castle.  It must be destroyed."

	"What does it do?" Inquired Savren.

	"It has the power to detect and render Inquisitors incapable of using
their gifts.  Had such a crystal not been created, we would not have needed your
assistance in this matter."

	Esmerelda leaned on her staff.  "The castle is shielded from hostile
magicks.  It is relatively open to the mental disciplines of the Inquisition.  A
team of sorceresses, Inquisitors, and Assassins was sent in when we first
learned of the possible existence of the crystal, but they were killed.  Their
deaths must be avenged."

	Finally, Murelle turned her gaze on the four.  "They were killed by
Cymra the Black, once Lady Cymra, second daughter of Empress Corrine IV.  As per
Imperial law, the daughters of the Empress are to be trained in all of the main
houses.  She was a brilliant student, but flawed with ambition and pride.  She
sought to master skills and knowledge that had been forbidden since the first
Empress.  She was exiled four hundred and seventy two years ago.  She traveled
far, and learned much, including the dark rites of resurrection.  She cannot be
killed by mortal means.  She has aligned with the Lich King of Iceholme and
seeks to avenger herself upon us.  She must be destroyed.  She is an abomination
to everything we hold dear and sacred."

	"Now you know."  Syrena leaned on her spear.  "You are to penetrate the
interior of Iceholme, steal into the Castle, destroy the Dark Crystal, and
escape.  With the crystal destroyed, the Lich King will not support Cymra, and
we will be able to restore peace to the border.  The appropriate gear has been
prepared for you all, and you will all leave immediately.  Are there any
questions?"

	Aerick looked around to the others.  They kept their silence and waited.

	"Remember," Syrena said in parting.  "You have 'til the next full moon
to complete your task."

	Aerick nodded to himself, then led the party up to the platform and
through the portal...and into the frozen north.  He immediately knelt, drew his
bow and set an arrow to it, scanning the horizon.  Kieron followed and also
looked about.

	"Where are we?"  Kieron whispered.

	"Iceholme, far north territories."  Aerick replied.  "We need to find
some cover and someplace to take stock of our situation."

	Kieron nodded and stood.

	"Let's move out."  Aerick ordered the party, and let the four down the
ice plains into the wilderness.

Slave to the Empire:
Sorcerer 1


	As far back as he could remember, Savren Syrenasson always love to watch
his beautiful mother workout in the training hall.  Nominally it was forbidden
for those were not to take the oaths of the Dragon Kin to be present, but those
who were of the blood were allowed to watch silently from darkened alcoves.  The
endless twirl and spin of his mother's spear cut a pattern through the air,
leaving a trail of blurred silver as the spear's long silver blade sang its song
of death.  It was a perfect memory of his mother in her finest form:  swift,
silent, deadly.  A memory that he would carry with him always.

	As he reached puberty, he was tested according to Imperial Law by each
of the Duchesses of the Empire.  It was to the Black Tower he would go, to train
and serve his Empress as a sorcerer adept.  He tried to keep up a brave face as
he said farewell to his mother, but held on tightly during the last moments they
were together.  He would not be allowed to see her again until he had completed
his training and was ritually bound a higher Adept.  He was led by the hand to
the portal by the Mistress of the Black Tower herself, and without a sound,
gated them both to his new home.

	He spent the first few years amongst the few male noviates in the lonely
chambers that were assigned to them, quietly studying the basics and basis of
magick and sorcery.  Magick, he learned, came in several varieties.  The first
was High Magick, the manipulation of the world through the rituals and
incantations of the Mages.  The second was Elemental magick, which focused only
on the elemental spheres.  This was the purview of the Druids and Clerics of the
Empire.  The last was Sorcery, whose practitioners had the blood of Dragons
flowing through their veins.  High Magick was the most powerful of the schools,
however, Sorcery allowed for more flexibility, at the price of raw power.  It
was said a well trained Sorcery Adept was more than a match of any Mage.  Savren
spent long hours in the library of the Tower learning all that he could.  Upon
his sixteenth birthday, he was called upon to make his Offering to the Lady of
the Spheres, the Goddess of Magick and Patron of Learning.  The Offering was
something he was unsure of.  His unease was not from the idea of making an
Offering to the Goddess, but what would be considered appropriate.  Ever since
he was a child he paid homage to the same Gods and Goddesses that his Mother
followed, the Lord and Lady of the Sky.  Savren made his way through the silent
halls of the tower until he reached the chambers of the Lady of the Tower, his
master in the Art.  He announced his presence and requested an audience, his
mind clouded by his confusion.  The doors of her chamber swung open, and he
entered cautiously.  He found the Grand Duchess of the Marches of the East at
her vanity as she brushed her waist length hair.  Her eyes flickered to him, and
then back to her reflection.  He stopped his progress as he saw a pair of slaves
dozing in her bed.

	"You may approach childe."  She set her brush down.

	"Forgive me for disturbing you Master."

	"Yes?"  She swiveled on the stool to face him.  "Something troubles you,
yes?"

	"Yes Master.  I am unsure of what to make as my offering."

	"You do understand the nature of the ritual involved, do you not?"

	"Yes and no."  Savren frowned.  "I understand the Oaths of the Dragon
Kin, and the Blooding of the Nightfall Clan, but the Offering I don't
understand."

	"You have the blood of the Dragon running through your veins.  You are
not the first Sorcerer apprentice to voice confusion and misgivings about the
Offering."  She spoke.  "The next moon is in an eight day.  That is when you are
to make your Offering.  Before then, I want you to bring me a report on the
history and nature of the Offering.  You are to include all the information that
you think pertinent to the ritual.  You will present this report to me in two
days, is that clear?"

	"Yes Master."

	"Come here."  She ordered.

	Savren crossed the space between them and stood quietly before his
Master.  She reached up to stroke his face gently before slipping a small tag on
the chain he wore around his throat.

	"Almost a man."  She whispered.  "Your mother would be pleased to see
how you have grown in her absence."

	"I miss her."  He whispered.

	"I know."  The half elf replied.  "You will see her again after your
noviate."

	"Yes Master."

	She removed her hand.  "You are dismissed pet."

	Savren bowed low, backing away.  She resumed her brushing as he left. 
He returned to his chambers, his hand finally bring the small tag to his sight. 
It was a pass for the Tower Library.  With a sigh he gathered his writing
utensils and blank scrolls, then made his way across the Tower to where the
Library resided.  The Tower at its base was more like a pyramid than a tower,
with actual tower extending from the pyramid's apex.  The whole structure was
carved from the living rock of a mountain, with several work rooms and training
halls built into the mountain itself.  Great storerooms and halls honeycombed
the mountain and pyramid, with the living quarters and dormitories of the
resident Magick users and their students' right below the tower itself.  The
Tower library was located at the base of the tower, where many of the
instructors had workrooms and offices.  Savren showed his tag to the guards that
roamed the halls and finally to the Librarian, who said nothing as she ushered
him into the chamber.  The room was circular, with many levels.  Desks and
tables dominated the open center of the chamber, with bookshelves and scroll
racks lining the walls.  There were several mages present at this time of night,
including a black robed Necromancer from the Nightfall Clan.  Those that follow
the path of the Dead always made him nervous, and her dead stare did not help
his confidence. 

	He handed a request for books to the Librarian, who nodded and quickly
retrieved them and set them on a table near the center.  He sat and opened the
largest tome, a history of the Empire and began to read.

	The Empire, he read, was founded over a thousand years ago by Kalythi
tro'Hellyn, a half elf from what is now known as Iilead.  Wars were commonplace,
and the borders and rulers changed with frightening regularity.  Kalythi was a
Knight of the Lady of Storms, and with the ever chaotic nature of the world,
soon found herself without home or people.  She gathered several followers to
her, all females like herself, and led a grand crusade to try to stop the whole
sale slaughter.  Many tribes rallied to her banner as her victories grew, but
there was discontent amongst her followers. Treachery and betrayal grew from
several of the men under her command, and her forces were scattered and
defeated.  She gathered the survivors, mainly females and children, and led them
over the mountains into what would become the Empire.  The capital was founded
on the shore of the great inland sea, a huge freshwater lake from which the
great Tiberion River linked it to the sea.  There she established the first laws
of the Empire.  Males would be forever regulated to property, subservient to
females.  The capital city grew as more followers entered the Empire from the
outside world, prominently the Moon Elf tribe.  Harried and near extinct, the
tribe sought sanctuary amongst the Empire's growing population.  The Empress
greeted the Matriarchal tribe as lost sisters, giving them fertile lands to the
south in which to build their enclaves.  In time, the laws governing males were
codified and in some cases loosened so that other races besides human and elf
would not feel constricted.  The Dragons that inhabited the mountains to the
north made pacts and treaties with the newly arrived human population, and a
symbiotic relationship that would become the Dragon Kin began.  However, there
were forces in the outside that would not see this new realm take form.  A great
army descended upon the Empire, intent on destroying it once and for all.  The
Empress led her forces into battle with her allies, emerging victorious at the
Battle of Pyramid Rock.  The Empire was secure.  At the end of the battle, the
Empress awarded each of her four Generals with Duchies, and the Empire was
divided into five Prefectures, each ruled by a Grand Duchess.  By tradition, the
fifth duchy was the Imperial Prefecture and ruled by the Heir to the Empress. 
The other four Duchesses each made Offerings to their respective Goddesses,
establishing the tradition of the Offering.  Through the ages this ritual
continued in remembrance of those who had fought for the Empire.

	 Savren closed the book.  He unrolled a scroll and began to write his
thoughts on the history of the Offering before continuing onto a second book. 
The second tome was smaller, but was more of a detailed essay on what it meant
to make an Offering to a Goddess.

	To make an Offering, he read, was to make a sacrifice.  This sacrifice
does not mean a death, but something of value, something that has deep meaning. 
There were some Goddesses who would accept pain and blood as an Offering, but to
do so would tempt the Goddess to take a rather active interest in the affairs of
the one making the Offering.  Those that worship the Patron of Magick often
created spells or rituals specifically for the Offering, some new piece of
learning or magick that might please the Goddess.

	Savren leaned back into his chair.  He then wrote further on his
thoughts on the act of Offering, and what it meant to make an Offering.  He felt
his stomach spasm as a cold hand touched the back of his neck.  The scent of
jasmine and orchids flooded his nose as a pale face lowered itself into his
view.

	The Necromancer said nothing, just studied his face with her dead eyes. 
Necromancers for the most part were not truly dead, but their powers and
abilities often gave them the appearance of undeath.  Her fingers massaged the
back of his neck gently, and her whisper echoed through him.

	"You are on the verge of manhood childe.  I smell the change in you as
you grow.  Be wise in the choice of your Offering."  Cold lips nipped at his ear
as she withdrew.  Savren was not an innocent when it concerned the better sex,
but it unnerving nonetheless.  He was still a virgin, and knew his virginity
would bring a horde of suitors willing to relieve him of it.  Once his virginity
was gone, his chain would be replaced by a collar.  He found it amusing to
observe those who had been taken as slaves that never knew the gentle touch of a
Mistress.  The world outside the Empire was still as chaotic as ever, although
much of the chaos had been 'contained' in several Realms.  He read the last tome
quietly to himself, the book containing many essays on the spiritual nature of
the Offering, and what benefits could be obtained.  Savren rubbed his eyes as he
finished writing, and then gathered his materials to return to his room.  The
morning bell chimed as he set his scrolls down, informing him of the morning
meal.  Wearily he left his room and made his way to the dining hall where the
students and instructors shared their meals.  There were only about one hundred
students currently undergoing training, nearly all of them female.  Only a
handful of male students were accepted for training, and the training they
received was a far cry from that of female students.  He accepted a plate of
stew from one of the servants and sat at one of the empty tables.  He ate
quickly, feeling the eyes of many upon him as he finished his meal.  He hazarded
a quick glance at the instructor's tables to see the Necromancer who spoke with
him earlier watching him intently. 

	"Is there a problem boy?"  One of the room monitors spoke. 

	"No Mistress."  He replied.

	"Then why are you watching the instructors?"

	"I had an encounter with the Lady Necromancer earlier this morning
Mistress."

	"Ah."  The woman nodded to the Necromancer, who approached.  "Did he
offend you Mistress Trelyana?"

	"He interests me."  She replied.  "He has potential."

	"Yes," The monitor agreed.  "If he doesn't manage to get his spirit
broken with his disrespect."  She bowed to the Necromancer, and then returned to
her wandering the hall.  Lady Trelyana slid into the seat next to the young man.

	"Thank you for your kindness Mistress."  Savren spoke quietly, his eyes
fixed to the empty plate before him.

	"I will see you in my chambers after the noon break."  She ordered. 

	"Yes Mistress."

	And she too left him. 

	

	Savren spent the morning worried.  He had been called to task before,
and once even before the entire student body for punishment.  All throughout his
morning classes it stayed a part of his thoughts.  He found himself wondering if
he too was to become a lover of death, trying to explain away his strange
attraction to the Necromancer.  During lunch he kept his eyes firmly fixed upon
the plate before him.

	"So you have an appointment with Lady Trelyana."  He jumped in his seat
as his Master appeared by his chair.

	"Yes Master."

	"I will have a word with her about you before she leaves for her
chambers.  Are you worried?"

	"Yes Master."

	"Is she the one?"

	"Master?"

	"Will you give your chain to her?"

	"I-" Savren was speechless.  The thought of offering the Mistress his
virginity never crossed his mind.

	"Whatever you choose will be acceptable."  She stroked his hair.  "This
may be one of the only free choices you have in your life, think fully before
making it."

	"Yes Master."  Savren replied.  "Thank you Master."

	Lady Danae moved away and seemed to glide across the floor where she
paused at Lady Trelyana's table.  He saw his Master lean close and speak with
the dark woman before the two leave the hall.  Without another bite he pushed
his plate away and stood up.  He returned to his room to return his tome to his
desk before making the trip to Mistress Trelyana's room.  The walk to her
chambers was quiet, and he swallowed nervously as he knocked on the ancient
door.  It opened soundlessly and he entered.  The room was spartan, as were most
chambers of instructors.   There was a large bed against the far wall, several
bookcases, worktables, stools, and soft chairs.  Dominating the room was an old
wingback leather chair, upon which sat Mistress Trelyana.  Her black robes were
pulled close about her, the hood up, casting shadows upon her alabaster skin. 
Her eyes seemed to glow under the hood.  There was a huge wall cabinet behind
her that seemed to give the room a lived in nature. 

	"Enter childe."  She spoke. 

	He approached her, kneeling before her feet in obsolescence.  He heard
the door click as it shut.

	"I have thought of many pleasures to take of you."  Her hand reached out
to raise his eyes to hers.  "I want to see your tears, hear your cries of pain,
of pleasure."  Her finger traced his jaw line.  "But you are not a man.  Not
yet."

	He opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly.

	"You may speak."
	"Does Mistress want my chain?"

	Her fingers slid down his throat to take the thin chain between them. 

	"It would give me great pleasure to take it.  But you must offer it
freely."  Her eyes pinned him in place.  "Are you offering it?"

	He trembled in her gaze.

	"No. You are not yet ready."  She released the chain.  "Strip."

	Savren gracefully rose to his feet and disrobed, allowing her to touch
and feel his body.  She slid forward in her seat and gently laid him across her
knees.  Her hand strayed between his legs to feel the rising erection.  It was a
sharp contrast of warm flesh to cold skin.  Her remaining hand rested on the
small of his back, rubbing small circles.

	"Are you ready?"

	"Yes Mistress."  Savren replied, breathless.

	"Normally I would string you up and whip you till you bled.  Perhaps
paddle your ass black then rape you."  The hand strayed up to this cleft and
teased the brown rose within.  "I take great delight in pain childe.  However,
your Master has stayed my hand this time, citing your youth.  I have agreed with
her on this instance, but you will be punished."  She hand landed like a
thunderclap on his ass.  He yelped and almost rose straight up if not for her
other hand firmly holding him down.  Tears blurred his vision as the heavy
spanking continued.  He tried to remain still as her hand landed again and
again, his erection rubbing against the soft fabric of her leg.  After thirty
swats he was let up, her hand grasping his raging erection and jerked it
mercilessly.  Her hand was like a vice on his penis as her eyes found his. 
Without a sound she rose, her hand stopped its motion and held him firm.  His
mouth opened slightly as she kissed him, her tongue stabbing into his mouth. 
She raped his mouth, using lips, teeth, and tongue to take her pleasure of him. 
She released him suddenly and moved to her bed.

	"Get out."

	In the darkest corners of his mind, he knew what he would offer.

Slave to the Empire:
Sorcerer 2


	Savren sat upon the cold stone bench outside one of the many empty
chambers of the Tower.  Beside him sat his Master, dressed in her finery with a
small box resting in her lap.  His robes were immaculate in their finery,
suitable for this most auspicious day.  In the chamber, she waited. 

	"You are disappointed in me Master."  Savren spoke in low tones.

	"No, merely surprised at your choice of Offering.  It
is...very...dangerous."  She replied.  "You are not the first to think of such
an Offering."  She stood.  "It is nearly time.  Reflect upon your life until you
are summoned.  You will know when."

	Lady Danae entered the chamber, leaving the young man alone.  Savren
remained still as she left, his own thoughts in turmoil.  Was this the right
choice?  He asked himself.  He has tried to lead an obedient life, but it seemed
to him to be too loose, too unstructured.  In his heart he wanted the tightly
ordered life.  Growing up in a fortress that was nearly always on a war footing
wasn't an easy thing always, but he had more freedom than most, and it wasn't
due to his birth.  He loved and honored his mother very much, and did not want
to make her think him ungrateful.  His studies revealed to him how many of the
other races and cultures within the Empire handled their males, and to him, the
Moon Elf tribe was the most rigid in their attitudes and mores.  Moon elf males
wore long flowing robes that covered them from head to toe, and only revealed
their features to their mates.  A bit too much confining he thought.  On the
other hand, what appeared to be the least ordered relationships were with the
Dwarven clans in the Western Prefecture.  He shook his head.  It was no time for
second thoughts.  His Master received his report on time, and along with it, his
request for his Offering.  What he wanted had a chance of increasing his innate
sorcerous abilities, but also had a good chance of seriously damaging him
physically and emotionally. 

	He felt a change in the air, the scent of incense filling his nostrils. 
It was time.  He cleared his thoughts of any distractions and stood.  He faced
the door, head bowed as it opened slowly to reveal a room with a vaulted
ceiling.  At the opposite end of the room was a small alter dedicated to the
Lady of Magick.  Candles filled the room with a low, dancing lights, and in the
very center, the tools and items of his Offering, and the one to administer
them.  Lady Trelyana stood at the center of the room, dressed in her finest
robes, the hood concealing most of her features.  His Master was nowhere to be
seen.  Savren entered the room slowly until he was within arms reach of the
Mistress.  The doors behind him closed with a loud boom.  Trelyana ran her hands
through his hair, then cupped his face in her hand and brought him up to look at
her. 

	"This is your Offering."  She intoned.  "Are you prepared?"

	"I am Mistress."

	She released his face and slowly drew back her hood.  Her hair was long,
black, and seemed to absorb the light.  She had added the barest of color to her
face, only to enhance the paleness of her skin.  Her lips were a deep crimson
that seemed to bleed.  She turned to the tables and uncovered them, revealing
the instruments that she would use upon him, and then turned back to face him.

	"Strip, and prepare yourself."

	Savren slowly undid the ties that held his robes together, his eyes
fixed on the statue of his Goddess.  Fully nude, he walked slowly to the small
alter and knelt before it.  He silently prayed for the Goddess to accept this
Offering.  He heard a rustle of robes behind him and felt a pair of hands touch
the side of his head, waiting.  Savren finished his prayers and gracefully rose
to his feet.  Slowly he turned to face his Mistress, eyes respectfully down.

	"You have chosen a dangerous path childe.  I am honored that you have
chosen to me to help in your Offering."  She gently locked the leather padded
steel manacles around each wrist, then each ankle.  Trelyana hooked one of her
fingers under his chain and gently pulled him to the center of the room.  She
spun him to face the altar and stepped back, working subtle magicks until chains
stretched him taut.  She walked around to face her young toy.

	"Look at me pet."  She whispered.

	Savren looked up to see his Mistress transformed.  She shed her normal
robes in favor of a black leather corset that exposed her breasts, a skirt made
up of many thin straps that allowed him glimpses of alabaster flesh as she
moved.  Her legs were encased in thigh high leather boots with long steel heels. 
He saw that her nipples were the same color as her lips.  Around her neck she
wore an amulet indicating her status in this as Priestess of the Goddess.

	"I must admit that in this I decided to wear something special for you." 
Her hand stroked his cheek.  "I have dreamed of you childe.  Dreamed of you ever
since I had you over my lap.  I have masturbated myself to sleep dreaming of
things to do to you, things to make you scream."  Her nails dug into the soft
flesh under his chin.  "When the Lady Danae approached me with your proposal, I
made an offering to the Goddess that night in thanks for granting me my wish." 
Her fingers drifted down to his chest.  "You will scream tonight.  You will beg
for mercy."  Her fingers pinched and twisted his nipples sharply, the nails
digging into the areolas.  Savren gasped sharply as she applied more pressure. 
Her body molded to his as he tried to pull back to relieve the pain.  Her eyes
glowed with pleasure. 

	"You're not pulling away are you?"  She laughed.

	"I'm sorry Mistress."

	"No, not yet you aren't," and she slapped him.  Savren felt the sting,
and then the warm rush of blood as it rose to the skin of his cheek.  Her hand
entwined in his hair, pulling his face close to hers.  He could smell the scent
of smoke on her breath mixed with mint.  Her teeth bit his bottom lip and pulled
it out slightly.  She applied steady pressure until his eyes squeezed shut.  He
opened his eyes moments later to see her gone from his sight.  The whisper of
leather preceded the loud thundercrack of a whip as it laid a line of fire
across his back.  His body arched in the restraints, but he could not avoid the
pain.  He screamed.  He mentally counted twenty strokes, the last he felt a warm
wetness follow a line down his back.  Her fingernails dug into his side as he
felt something wet follow the line back up.  She walked back into his view, her
tongue licking her lips as she stroked and fondled his nipples.

	"I do so enjoy nipples."  She said.  "I like them nice and hard and long
so that I can torture them."  She looked up at him.  "Yours are hard, but a bit
small.  What say we make them more to my liking, hmmm?"  Her eyes were afire
with lust.  She picked up two wire circular pyramids that spiraled to small
peaks along with two steel pins.  The pins were both quite pointed at one end. 
Trelyana pinched his left nipple first, pulling and twisting it before letting
her tongue bathe it.  She sucked for a moment, her eyes staring into his before
she grasped the end in her teeth and pulled hard.  Savren gave a strangled cry
as she thrust the steel pin into his nipple and through it.

	"Breathe."  She ordered.

	Savren took huge gulps of air as she prepared his other nipple.  This
time, she took her time pushing the needle through.  His whole body tensed,
fighting the metallic intruder and the woman who was forcing it into him.  She
tapped the two pins in his nipples several times.  His chest heaved as the pain
coursed through him.  She leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

	"Take a slow, deep breath."  She whispered.  He obeyed.  "That's it.  It
hurts, but it is a good hurt.  This is for HER."  Her lips played across his
ear.  "Open yourself to HER, your Goddess.  Let her take pleasure in your
Offering."  She withdrew to pick up the two spirals.  She slowly set the pins on
the track and slowly screwed them on, the pins shrinking as they rose.  He bit
his lip as his nipples were stretched out an inch.  Her hand strayed down to his
penis and stroked him.  He was semi erect, but her hand teased him to a full
erection in moments.  She slipped a leather band around the base of his erection
and secured it tightly.  Savren felt something sharp dig into the skin beneath
his testicles.  He shuddered as the points wormed their way into his scrotum.  A
moan escaped his lips as she stepped into his view again.  Something jutted from
her pubic area.  It was a phallus.  It was not an unfamiliar sight, for he had
seen many different styles and types.  They were quite popular amongst the women
of the Empire.  This one was large, at least eight inches, black, with silver
studs along its length.  She stroked it with a gloved hand.  He watched her
stare at him as she picked up a paddle.  She dipped two of her gloved fingers
into a pot and walked around him.  He gasped and thrust his hips forward as the
two fingers forced their way into his rectum.  The fingers began to itch, then
burn.  She thrust them in and out quickly, the oil starting its reaction. 
Savren fought the intense pain in his ass, only to have his Mistress start to
spank him with the paddle.  She started on one cheek, and then worked her way
over to the other.  Tears streamed down his face as he felt and heard the smack
as the leather paddle worked him over.  He felt the paddle land on the center of
his ass and heard himself scream hoarsely.  Her hand groped and pinched his ass
cheeks, the contrast between his hot flesh and her cool skin.  He looked down to
see her fasten a wide leather belt around his waist and attach chains to either
side.  His waist was lifted up and placed in position by her hands.

	"You have pleased me pet."  She spoke.  He took slow, deep breaths to
calm him and tried to ease the fire that raged in his ass.  The strap around his
waist lifted him up to the point where his feet were off the floor and his upper
torso was bent forward.  He moaned as weights were attached the nipple
stretchers.  With a flick of her fingers she set the weights swinging.  Each
swing tugging and stretching his nipples.  He felt something press against the
opening of his ass, rubbing against the ring of his sphincter.  Her hands ran
along his sides, the open palms sliding over the sweaty skin to the junction of
his hips.  The nails on her fingers dug in as the dildo pushed past the barrier
into his ass.  Savren's body fought the intruder as he tried to free himself
from the restraints.  He heard her laugh as her hands tightened on his waist as
she slowly ground her hips forward.  Savren felt every silver stud on the dildo
as it slowly raped him.  His breath came in gasps as he felt himself stretched
to accommodate her strap on.    He pushed back to feel the coolness of her skin
against his ass.  Her hands slid down to kneed and caress his ass as she allowed
a moments respite to help him adjust before she renewed her rape.

	"Easy."  She ordered.  "Breathe."

	She slowly withdrew until the tip remained, then rammed forward again. 
And again.  And again.  She moaned in pleasure as she rocked in and out, her
nails digging in with each thrust.  Savren shook in pain, pleasure, and
humiliation.  A harsh sob escaped his lips as she used him.  His back arched as
the pleasure won out.  His body became taut as the anally induced orgasm rolled
over him.  Fingernails sharp as needles pierced his flesh at the hips, her own
orgasmic cry echoing his as she buried the dildo to the hilt.  His body accepted
the intruder, making it a part of him.  Something started to change inside of
him.  Nothing dangerous, but something felt added, complete, more powerful.  His
reservoir of power that he used to power his spells enlarged.  Her withdrawal
left a gaping hole in his ass.  She used him for a stand as she moved to face
him, herself trembling from the experience.    With gentleness unexpected she
kissed him, her hand stroking his face.  She stood and removed the leather
harness, revealing to him a similar dildo that slid out of her vagina,
glistening with her juices.  He opened his mouth to accept the wet toy, licking
it clean for her, savoring the taste of his Mistress.  She removed the toy and
set it reverently aside.  With a word and a gesture, the chains and straps fell
away, and for the first time in the long evening, he was free.  Her hands
removed the nipple stretchers slowly, and she enjoyed the heat and paint that
came off him.  She stood back and watched him.

	She held out her hand.  "You have known pain.  Now the Goddess demands
Her pleasure."  Savren took her outstretched hand and followed her to the statue
of the Goddess.  Before them appeared a leather pad, and Trelyana slowly eased
him to the mat.  She gracefully lowered herself down to lay beside him, her
fingers brushing his enlarged nipples.  He leaned into her touch, and gently
kissed her on the lips.  Her mouth parted to allow his tongue access, and the
obliged, letting his tongue entwine with hers.  Her hands took his and placed
them on her breasts, letting him feel the cool skin with her hard nipples. 

	"Pleasure me."  She ordered, laying back into the mat.  Savren had
studied his whole life on the arts of pleasing a woman, which was difficult
since as a child he was forbidden to interact in such a fashion with a female. 
This was his first test to see what he had learned.  He kissed her again, his
lips trailing down her chin to her throat.  His tongue swirled small circles
into her skin, following down to the hollow of her throat and planting small wet
kisses.  His tongue left a wet trail down her chest as he made his way to her
nipples.  He sucked and nipped the sensitive flesh, his fingers stroking and
pinching the other.  He alternated on each nipple for long moments, listening to
her breathing.  She took deep breaths as he worked, and lifted up as he undid
the laces of her corset and removed it.  He removed her boots next, his hands
rubbing and massaging her feet.  She let a contented sigh as he worked,
massaging the kinks out of her soles from the extended wear of the boots. 
Savren took one of her feet and brought it up to his mouth, and let his tongue
bathe each toe with long, wet strokes.  He kept the pace slow, as to further
relax his Mistress and prepare himself for what was to follow.  Her other foot
was treated the same as the first, his tongue working in slow rhythmic movements
as he began the gentle climb up to the smooth mound of her vagina.  He hovered
over her nether lips for the longest moment, his eyes daring to look her full in
the face.  Her eyes were closed, but her hands knew the way as they grasped his
head and guided him down.  Savren closed his own eyes as he was treated to the
first scent of her arousal.  Something flickered at the edge of his awareness,
another presence.  He rubbed his nose along the outer labia lightly, savoring
the exotic smell before letting his tongue escape his lips to lightly lick at
the warm flesh.  Her body gave a spasm in response to his touch, his tongue
lightly playing across her labia, his eyes opening to watch her rose bloom.  Her
fingers tightened about his head as she urged him on.  He used the flat of his
tongue to press against her in a long lick.  His eye caught a thin, clear trail
leak from the bottom of her vagina, and his tongue snaked out to suck up the
errant moisture.  The taste was musky and coppery, a perfect accompaniment to
her aroma.  Nestled beneath her he spotted the brown rose of her ass.  He felt a
certain mischievousness overcome him as he lowered himself further to kiss and
lick the cleft of her ass.  Her legs locked about his head immediately and her
fingernails threatened to draw blood.  He gave her a gentle kiss before allowing
his tongue to slide up and gently part the folds of her labia.  In long, slow
strokes he penetrated until his tongue was firmly buried in her vagina.  His
nose brushed her hooded clit and again her body tightened about him.  His lips
and tongue worked up to embrace the erect member, and she cried out in ecstasy. 
Without warning she flipped him over to straddle his chest, her eyes glowing red
in the shadows.  Her head stooped forward to savage him with a kiss; her breath
coming in hard gasps, her fingers raked his chest lightly.  She reached behind
her to grasp his penis and stroke it gently, before raising her pelvis to hover
over his groin.  Her eyes held his as she slowly lowered herself onto his
erection, simultaneously snapping the chain from his neck with her other hand. 
Her pelvis rocked against his as she fully seated herself upon him.  His
magickal senses flared as he felt the other presence again, this time merged
with his Mistress.  Her eyes changed through a kaleidoscope of colors before
returning to her true color, her lips moving in silent benediction as she slowly
rode him.  Savren slowly reached up to cup her breasts, and she leaned into his
hands.  Her hips kept up a slow rhythm as she brought him from childhood to
manhood.  Savren felt tightness in his penis, a sharp pressure that made him
uncomfortable.  It was not painful, but the feeling was completely new to him. 
Trelyana smiled.

	"That's it pet...come inside me."

	The pressure built further, the sensations around his penis send shivers
through his spine.  Logically he understood what was happening, but with this
experience new to him he was unsure.  Her arms pulled him into a sitting
position without dislodging him or missing a beat.  Her hand bushed loose hairs
out of his face and she lowered her face to his neck and shoulder.  His
testicles tightened in anticipation as the first spurt of his sperm flooded his
partner's vagina.  A second, more powerful ejaculation followed as she bit his
shoulder, then a third, then a fourth.  She threw her head back and howled her
own orgasm as the last and final ejaculation flooded her.  She looked down upon
him with kind eyes as his penis shrank, her hand gently locking a permanent
collar about his throat.  The collar was of the softest leather lining, bonded
to heavier leather wrapped in a silver collar.  On the collar was inscribed his
lineage, with his mother's tag hanging from the ring on the front.  In the
future when he would be given to mate, the tag would be changed to that of his
Mistress.  Trelyana slowly rose and helped him to his feet. 

	"By my authority as Priestess for the Goddess, I set the mantle of
manhood upon your shoulders.  Obedience is your life now as you have crossed
over the threshold of youth."  She placed her fingertips on his forehead and
spoke the ancient words of benediction.  "You are dismissed Savren, son of
Syrena."  She turned to begin gathering her things.  Savren slowly gathered his
robes and pulled them on, his eyes downcast, but stealing glances at the woman
who was his first.  He bowed towards the statue of his Goddess first, then to
her avatar.  As he approached the door, he heard Trelyana's voice in parting.

	"Do not become attached to your newfound freedoms...."

Slave to the Empire:  Sorcerer 3



	For the record, all that Savren was required to do was light a candle. 
However, it wasn't just the candle that was lit.  The flame burned brightly for
the briefest moment like a new star, then it melted the candle, the candlestick
holder, the table, twenty six flagstones, three statues, incinerated a tapestry,
and singed the tips of his Master's hair.  The scorch marks alone would take
weeks to scrub off the walls and ceiling of the casting chamber.  Lady Esmerelda
stood with crossed arms and blew a stray singed hair out of her face. 

	"My apologies Master."  Savren sputtered at the devastation wrought with
a single spell.

	"I see we are going to have to start back at the beginning."  She took
her hair into her hands and restored it slowly.  "Your power reserves have been
greatly enhanced, as well as the level of power in each casting."  She motioned
for him to follow.  "You are not to use any magick for the time being.  I will
work up a revised training regime for you.  In the meantime, I want you to
meditate and study on how your abilities have changed."

	"Yes Master."  Savren bowed and returned to his room.  His room was
different from when he was a childe, the most prominent feature being the desk
and bookcase.  When a new supplicant was accepted for training, s/he was
assigned one of the trainee rooms, spartan in nature, with a simple bed,
wardrobe, and clothing provided by the school.  Students were often gifted with
an allowance from their sponsor, which allowed them to personalize their rooms
if they wished.  The allowance was small, and most students purchased books and
writing supplies which were stored in a trunk at the foot of each bed.  A desk
and bookcase were often moved into the student's room after making their
Offering, signaling their elevation to adult responsibilities.  For Savren, that
meant a black oak desk and cedar bookcase.  He took a seat at his desk, opening
a leather-bound book and began to study a spell.  His collection of spells has
grown over the years; however, by his very nature he could only learn a handful
of them at one time. 

	After several hours of meditation and study, he changed into padded
armor and took up the steel bound quarterstaff, a gift from his mother, and
reported to the training hall for his scheduled period.  He enjoyed these brief
interludes in his magickal training, where he could practice on his staff work. 
The training hall was mostly empty, with the exception of a few of his friends
practicing their own staff work under the tutelage of one of the various
Marshals that maintained law and order in the Prefecture.  He adjusted his
training uniform before approaching the group.

	"Welcome student."  The marshal spoke.  She peered at his collar
closely.  "Good, you are in the advanced class."  She pointed to one of the boys
present.  "Kaylis, go and spar with Savren."  A dark haired youth retrieved his
staff from the wall rack and moved across the great hall towards the sparring
circles that were in the center of the hall.  Along the walls were several
alcoves with doors that led to shielded rooms where magick could be employed in
combat.  Banners lined the walls of the training hall, each signifying the many
regiments sponsored by the Grand Duchess for inclusion into the Imperial Army.

	Kaylis bowed and stepped to one of the sparring circles and waited. 
Savren approached the circle and bowed to his opponent.  He took up his quarter
staff and waited.  Savren knew of Kaylis, but did not include him in his close
circle of friends.  The young man came from the Western Prefecture, and was in
training to take his place amongst the hierarchy of the Necromancers.

	"I heard you chose Lady Trelyana to assist in making your Offering." 
Kaylis spoke, his staff flashing out to be intercepted by Savren's.

	"Indeed."  Savren replied, his own staff lashing out.  The two staves
slowly started tapping each other, the sound of the wood on wood clicking
rhythmically, slowly speeding up.

	"A pity Lady Trelyana had to leave the school."

	Savren blinked, and the hard wood staff of his opponent rapped him
soundly on the head.  Savren stepped back and rubbed his head, feeling the knot
that was slowly rising.  Kaylis returned to a ready position at the far end of
the training ring and waited.  Savren shrugged the blow off and returned to a
ready stance to match his opponents.

	"Distractions will get you killed my friend."  Kaylis smiled wryly. 

	Savren grinned and spun his staff around the center point and leapt into
the fray.  Both staves blurred in activity as the two advanced students fought
furiously.  Imperial law forbade the males of the population to actively take up
arms; however there was the need for the male to be able to defend himself when
the situations warrant it.  Quarterstaffs were the weapon of choice amongst the
male population.  There were freeman battalions amongst the Imperial Army, but
those were strictly regulated, and they were usually irregulars, support, or
archer units.  Marshals were usually retained by the school to oversee the
training of the young male mages and sorcerers of the Empire.  Savren, and a few
others like Kaylis, had the benefit of mothers who were in the military and
could provide the basics of instruction to their sons, so that they were more
able to deal with the fluid situation of combat.  In rare instances, the young
trainees were inducted into the ways of using the short, long bladed leaf spear,
to complement their basis in staff work.

	Savren spun the staff slowly with one hand out to his left side, and
angled his body with his right hand out, palm facing his opponent, one of the
basic ready forms of Zha-sen, the accepted marital art of the Dragon Riders. 
Kaylis slid his right foot out as he brought his staff to face his opponent, his
hands holding one end of the staff and the butt cap facing his opponent.  Savren
sped up the spinning staff, shuffling forward as he spun with the force of the
spinning staff.  Kaylis blocked the weapon once, but had to retreat as Savren
reversed the spin of his staff to knock Kaylis's out of position.  He followed
the attack up with a second, spinning the staff around his abdomen and finally
reaching out to tap his opponent on the side of the head with the spinning
weapon.  Kaylis backed off and shook his head, then spun himself and used the
staff as a spear, attempting to score a disabling hit on Savren.  Savren blocked
the strike with a downward stroke of his staff, leaping up to dropkick his
opponent out of the ring.  Kaylis tumbled backward out of the ring as Savren
landed in a defensive stance.  Kaylis rolled back and popped his body forward,
landing on the balls of his feet before bouncing forward, spinning his staff
around his body before extending it into a side strike.  Savren spun his staff
in a counter fashion, blocking the strike and forcing his opponent back again
with and elbow strike to the solar plexus.  Kaylis fell backwards and landed
with a thump.  Savren danced away, his staff arched for a killing blow. 

	"HOLD!"	

	Savren held and retreated, and then stood and looked at the Marshal. 
She knelt down to check out Kaylis, who stood shakily.  While the fighting style
was not the issue, the level of violence unleashed was.  He stood quietly as the
Marshal berated him for the unwarranted increase of combat.

	"This matter will be referred to your Master young man.  You could have
seriously injured Kaylis."

	"Yes Marshal."  Savren replied.  "I'm sorry about that Kaylis."

	Kaylis shrugged it off.  "No problem.  I keep forgetting who your mother
is."

	"That is all for today."  The Marshal spoke.  "And next time you decide
to up the ante, you and I will go a round boy."  She warned.

	Savren bowed respectfully.  "Yes Marshal." 

	The trainees filed out of the hall and made their way to their
respective rooms, changing for the afternoon meal.  It was quiet as usual as
they ate, instructors making their rounds to see to that the students spent
their time eating, and not talking.  Savren felt a bit of sorrow at the fact
that Lady Trelyana was not present, but he focused on his meal until one of the
instructors tapped him on the shoulder.

	"Your Master will see you after your meal."

	Savren bobbed his head in acceptance of the order, and then quickly
finished the meal.  It lacked the flavor he normally found with such meals, but
then again, he did not have Lady Trelyana watching him.  He realized that he did
miss Her, and that part of him yearned for Her touch upon him.  He stood quietly
and took his empty tray to the serving line where a pair of servants took it
from him wordlessly.  Without another thought he turned and approached the main
table where his Master sat along with several other senior instructors.  He
waited patiently for his Master to acknowledge his presence.  It was several
minutes before her eyes flickered to his and she nodded imperceptibly.  She
stood and motioned for him to follow her to her office.  She sat in her chair
after a few moments and ordered him to sit in one of the two chairs before her
desk.

	"I am sure that you know that Lady Trelyana has been called away on
urgent business."  She began.  "I know how you feel about her.  She is quite the
dominant, is she not?"

	"She is very...intense."  Savren replied.

	"On other matters," She began, "I believe I have found out the cause of
your increased abilities.  Yes, they do stem from your Offering, but not in the
way you would think."  She paused and looked at him.  "As you know, all those
who are able to wield sorcerous powers have an internal reservoir with which to
draw magickal power for their spells.  Your own internal reservoir has been
increased, along with a rather unique secondary reservoir that can function as a
backup to your main power pool.  I believe this extra power pool can only be
filled by pain."

	"Pain?"

	"Your Offering was potent in both pain and pleasure.  Your main
reservoir will recharge normally when you rest, but this reserve can only be
filled with your pain and suffering."

	Savren blinked.  It seemed strange, yet relieving to find out why he his
simple spell exploded in such a fury. 

	"The simple fire spell was boosted by my reserve?"

	"In a sense."  She replied.  "Your level of power has been increased to
near Adept level, but you are still a noviate in experience."  She shook her
head.  "It almost seems we will have to start from the very beginning with your
training.  A few corners may be cut in this, but the core criteria will have to
be enforced."

	"Yes Master."  Savren took a deep breath.  "I guess there is no time
like the present to begin."

	"A commendable attitude Noviate."  She said, rising.  "I will summon a
conclave of Masters to assess your current level of training to your ability
level.  Return to your chambers until you are summoned."

	Savren stood and bowed before returning to his chambers.  As he made his
way back though the labyrinthine halls of the Tower.  There were a few students
waiting for him as he reached his room, his small group of friends that he had
made over the years.  Since his Master did not tell him he could not have
company, he ushered them in and closed the door behind him.  The small group
numbers only four, three of them males like himself, but curiously, one of them
female, and a Moon Elf at that.  Of the three males, Talberion was from the
Southern Prefecture.  He was the oldest of the group and was closest to
completing his trials.  The other two males, Jorge and Daven, hailed from
Western Prefecture.  Both were studying the necromantic arts, which were no
surprise since nearly all of the mages and sorcerers that came out of the Dark
Prefecture were inclined to such arts.  The last, Elisia, also hailed from the
Southern Prefecture, and, if one was inclined to believe the rumors, niece to
the Grand Duchess of the South and High Inquisitor of the Empire.  Savren
offered his chair to the Moon Elf, who accepted it with grace and sat in one
smooth motion.  Savren sat on his bed, as the other boys took whatever seat they
felt most comfortable in.

	"I heard you had an accident in one of the casting chambers."  Elisia
laughed, pulling out a scroll.

	"I heard it took them three hours just to get rid of the burn marks." 
Joked Talberion.

	"What can I say?"  Savren shrugged. 

	"Perhaps we should continue our discussion from yesterday."  Daven
spoke, his voice serious.  The two young men from the Dark Prefecture were
always serious in everything they did.

	Jorge only nodded solemnly.

	"Very well."  Savren replied.  "Since Master Corrie saw fit to assign us
this little project, I have done an in depth study through the library on the
ethics of experimentation."  He took a deep breath.  "The core of the argument
for the use of intelligent beings for experimentation is for the benefit of all,
the primary kingdom behind this rationale being Iceholme.  As we all know the
nature of that realm, how can the 'benefit' be for all, if in fact, the ruler of
that kingdom is a psychopathic killer?"

	"I would say Makiri is not really a psychopath."  Elisia spoke.  "He is
in fact, dead, or rather, undead.  I would hazard a guess that he doesn't see
himself as evil."

	"Are we rehashing the perception argument again?"  Jorge said.  "The
Arch-Lich of Iceholme is the greatest threat to our home, trying to rationalize
his actions isn't what we are supposed to be doing."

	"Ah, but he is in truth a being who has no regard for the sanctity of
sentients and will not hesitate to experiment on them to pursue his own goals." 
Savren opened a scroll.  "The great plague in the Year of the Comet was a result
of his experiments.  Twenty thousand people died in Iilead before the cause of
plague was discovered, and the cause was in fact a rare fungus that the normal
human is quite allergic to."

	"Are you saying that we all must take in consideration the effects of
our actions?" Daven asked. 

	"In a way, yes."  Savren leaned forward.  "Take the four of us.  We are
all training to utilize great power.  We must keep in mind the effects of using
such power."

	"Some of us already live with that."  Jorge rubbed his chin.  All males
that have grown in strength are usually hobbled in some way to minimize their
power.  The Grand Conclave will lay a geas upon the male to prevent his power
being used to the detriment of the Empire.  Savren knew that he himself would
have to undergo such a geas in order to leave the Tower.  Even in the current
age of liberal thought males of great ability and power are kept chained.  Even
being born into such chains can be weary to the soul.

	"Enough."  Elisia commanded.  Savren found himself bowing to her
authority automatically and instinctively.  Sometimes he wondered how his life
would be like if he lived in one of the other kingdoms.  The argument continued
for several hours before the consensus was reached that experimentation on
intelligent beings, or any life for that matter, fell into a very gray area that
often left it up to the experimenter how far they should go, and if the answers
found would be worth the price. 

	"Is it true Savren?"  Elisia asked.  "Do you really have the blood of
Dragons in your veins?"

	Savren thought about the question for a moment.  It was not common
knowledge about his lineage, and though he was not forbidden to speak it, he
found himself loath to do so.

	"Sort of."

	"Sort of?  Yes or no."  Her voice would brook no opposition.

	"Yes."  Savren capitulated.  "My great-great-granddam is
Virago'Dre'Kamisa, one of the Great Dragons.  She has slumbered in her lair for
the better part of a hundred years.  All those of the Sorcerer line have the
blood of the Dragons in their veins.  Nearly all of us are from the North."

	He kept a frown from forming on his face.  In reality there were so few
of the sorcerer line in the Tower.  His Aunt was the first to detect his nascent
abilities, and quickly placed him on the list for training.

	A knock on his door broke up the meeting as Savren followed the
messenger not to his Master's chambers, but to the formal meeting hall of the
ruling Conclave.  All matters pertaining to the Tower were decided here.  The
meeting hall was small, with a long rectangular table in the center surrounded
by twelve great chairs.  At the head of the table was the chair reserved for the
Grand Duchess.  Banners and tapestries hung along the walls.  Behind the
'throne' of the Grand Duchess was a massive coat of arms that dated to the
beginning of the Empire.   He waited as his Master finished conferring with
several others before motioning him forward.  All the Masters of the various
schools of Magick were represented, and their expressions contrasted each other.

	"Savren, it has been decided to place you under accelerated tutelage
until such a time as you have demonstrated complete control over your powers." 
His Master spoke.  "It is not to retrain you, but help you become used to your
new abilities.  Once you have proved your mastery of this, it will be decided
whether to allow you to learn some of the more potentially destructive magicks. 
You do realize should you learn such magicks, you will have to be bonded to
prevent misuse."

	"I understand Master"

	One of the Masters present slid a candle across the table, to be picked
up by another.  The ebon skinned woman held the candle before her.

	"Noviate Savren, light this candle."

	Savren thought back to his previous test of the candle.  His mind raced
to what he had done, how he had used his power as he normally would have.  This
second chance he chose a different path.  Instead of just unleashing his power,
he let it slowly out.  He wrapped the energy around just the tip of the wick. 
As much as he tried to slowly light the candle, it flared to life like a small
sun.  The Master that held the candle made a gesture and the candle flickered
out.

	"Explain."  She commanded.

	"I attempted to release the power to light the candle slowly, unlike the
earlier trial where I released my power all at once."

	"How did it feel?"

	"Unnatural."  Savren replied.  "Trying to control it seemed wrong."

	"Interesting."  The ArchMage replied.  The rest of the masters present
raised candles.  "Light all the candles."

	Savren gathered his power, his mind focusing on the ten wicks.  His
power erupted forth, yet it was spread across a large group of targets.  Ten
micro suns flared, and all of the candles wicks danced in flame.

	"Do you understand?"  The Master asked.

	Savren blinked in sudden awareness.  Much of his power expended in one
single blast, and yet, when dispersed over a wide variety of targets, his power
seemed as it was when he was younger. 	

	"On a single objective, my power is at full strength, but divided
amongst several tasks, it is of a more controllable level."

	"The Noviate learns."

	"Indeed."  His Master spoke.  "We shall be anew at dawn."



	The next morning found Savren in the same room with the same Masters. 
All stood at certain spots in the room upon thaumaturgic symbols.  Each Master
wore her formal robes with their staff of office.  His Master stood near the
center of the ritualistic circle, and motioned Savren to take his place at the
center.  He stood easily at the center as the ritual began.

	"Savren, open yourself to the magick."  His Master spoke.

	Savren closed his eyes and entered a medative state.  There were
currents of power in the room, each representative of the different schools of
Magick taught at the Tower.  He rode the flows of magick around the room,
tasting the power as it were.  The power slackened and finally dispersed after
an internal instant as he saw and understood the way magick interacted with the
world.

	"Each school has a specific function."  He spoke.  "With each function
comes a 'flavor' of magick.  All the magick is similar, yet different, like a
rainbow after a storm.  Magick is the cause and affect of the world around us." 
He opened his eyes to find his Master smiling at him.

	"Finally you begin to understand."  Esmerelda dispelled the wards in the
room and stepped forward to embrace him.

	"I spent last night thinking about it."  Savren blushed.  "Is it always
like this?"

	"Simple concepts are the hardest to teach."  She looked at the assembled
Masters.  "You have passed your noviate training."

	"But the retraining?"

	"Will continue."  Esmerelda replied.  "We teach you to think, to reason. 
You reached the next level of knowledge on your own.  Many students to not even
reach your level and remain of the Noviate level.  You are now an Apprentice. 
From here on out you will be given more responsibility here in the Tower as you
learn.  Now you must be selective in what you learn, for as a Sorcerer, you do
not have the luxury of a vast library of spells."

	"I am ready."

	"Then I will turn you over to your first instructor."  Esmerelda nodded
behind him.  A familiar cold hand strokes the back of his neck.

	"Are you ready to learn my pet?"  Lady Trelyana whispered into his ear.



	The fire was banked low in the hearth as Esmerelda finished the reports
on Savren's progress.  The temperature in the room dropped.  The half elf mage
looked up as the shadows formed into the shape of a woman.

	"Welcome Lady Murelle."  Esmerelda rose from her seat.  With the wave of
her hand a large chair silently slid across the room.

	"Thank you."  Red eyes flashed in the darkness.  The vampire slid across
the floor and sat quietly in the chair.  "How is the boy doing?"

	"He is progressing well.  He will be ready soon."

	"Good."  She relaxed in the leather seat.  "My daughter is quite taken
with him."

	"I suspected as much."

	Murelle smiled.  "If it is a true match, then he will have no trouble
adapting to her...peculiarities when she crosses over."

	"She is in between?"

	"Yes."

	Esmerelda sipped her tea and sighed.  "He is strong of spirit, not to
mention a massive power sink."

	"He will need that power for the time to come."

	"Regrets?"

	The red eyes formed slits.  "We all have regrets."

	"Cymra."

	"Yes."  The alabaster face flushed pink with anger.  "It should have
ended long ago."

	"And now our hopes ride with four young men into the heart of darkness." 
Esmerelda sat the tea cup down and crossed the space between them.  She unlaced
the front of her bodice and bared a breast to her visitor.  The vampire stood. 

	"You do not have to do this."  Murelle spoke.  Esmerelda reached up to
stroke a cold cheek. 

	"When was the last time you fed from a willing partner?"

	"Too long."  She whispered.

	Esmerelda brushed her golden tresses over her shoulder.  Her lips met
those of her lover's and she tasted the faint hint of jasmine.  Esmerelda
stretched forth her tongue to intertwine with Murelle's.  She felt the fangs of
her lover follow the trail of her lips down the side of her neck, down to the
pale flesh of her breast.  She took a deep breath as Murelle took her nipple in
her mouth and sucked gently, her tongue working the hard nub.  Esmerelda's
breath quickened as she felt the incisors scrape her flesh, then strike.  She
moaned at the penetration, and felt the blood flow into her lover's greedy
mouth.  Her eyes fluttered, pressing her lover's head further into her chest. 
It seemed like an eternity before the mouth left her breast.

	Murelle looked almost...human.

	"Thank you."  She whispered.

Slave to the Empire: Sorcerer 4



	A memory of seasons past...Savren only caught glimpses of Lady Trelyana
during that period.  It seemed to him that She was avoiding him after each
lesson.  It hurt him to think such, but he did not know what to do.  Then it all
changed.  He managed to wait for Her outside her chambers one night and stood
silently as she approached.  Her lips were compressed in a thin line as she
spotted him.  She opened her door and paused, then snagged one of his ears and
launched him into her room.

	"I trust there is some reason for this apprentice."  Her voice could
freeze water. 

	"I...I wanted to see You Mistress."

	She slapped him.  Hard.  His eyes lost focus at the blow for the moment.

	She kissed him. 

	"You should not be here."  She whispered, stroking his face where her
blow landed.  "It is not proper, not like this."

	"I love you."

	Her pale skin seemed to flush pale pink for the briefest moment.  Her
hand fumbled in one of her pouches.  She withdrew a small jewel and clipped it
to his collar.

	"I have spoken to your mother." 

	"Oh."

	"I will meet her mate-price."  She ran her hand through his hair, an
almost gentle gesture.  "You must go now.  I have to leave for a few days on a
mission for the Empress.  We will have a formal betrothal when I return."

	Savren took her hand in his and kissed it gently, then withdrew.  He
threw himself into his work, gathering in both magickal strength and knowledge. 
Lady Trelyana never returned to the Tower, and he grew worried.  Something was
amiss, but even his Master said nothing about it.  Investigations on his own
turned up nothing.  It was a cold autumn day when his Master called him to her
presence.

	"Savren, a situation has developed to which your unique skills will be
of great asset."

	"Yes Master?"

	"A four man team will be going north into Iceholme to take care of some
business."

	"Man?  You mean four men Master?"

	"Yes.  You are at a level where your abilities will allow for the
success of this mission."  She opened a small case on her desk and withdrew a
silver pendant. 

	"This is a binding charm.  If you accept this mission, you must be bound
to the Empire.  Both for our protection and yours."  Her tone was serious.  "Do
you accept this?"

	"May I ask a question Master?"

	"You may."

	"Does this in anyway relate to the disappearance of Lady Trelyana."

	Her eyes softened.  "Yes."

	"I accept."

	Esmerelda attached the pendant to his collar and spoke the words of the
charm.  Savren shuddered as he felt a wave of magick flash over him.

	"Gather your robes and your staff.  We must be off."

	"Where to Master?"

	"Your home.  The others will be gathering shortly in the Hall of the
Dragonriders."

	Homecoming proved to be bittersweet for Savren.  He was only allowed a
brief embrace of his mother before everything was brought into the open.

	"Now that we are all here," Syrena spoke.  "We can get down to
business."  A half-elf stood behind her in armor with a pack at his feet.  He
saw that there were two other men along side the two newcomers.

	"This is the mission that you have all been prepared for." Syrena looked
them over.  "Successful completion of this mission will mean that the threat of
Iceholme will be neutralized for a long time.  Failure will mean a long, drawn
out war.  Each of you is masters of your chosen fields, and we have added to
your training the best we have been able.  I know it will be difficult on you
all having to work together in this, but it has been for the best that you were
all trained separately.  Aerick, former mercenary commander, will lead you to
your destination."  She nodded at the half-elf.  "Kieron, former thief, yours it
to get the party into the heavily guarded Castile Torment."  She nodded at the
human beside the High Inquisitor.  "Savren, sorcerer born, you are to provide
magickal support."  Savren nodded to himself.  "And finally, Sir Toril, Paladin
of Sioban Morning Star, to you will fall the harsh task of warrior to guard and
protect your fellows." 

	Hallia looked at the assembled four.  "There is a crystal inside that
castle.  It must be destroyed."

	"What does it do?"  Savren inquired.

	"It has the power to detect and render Inquisitors incapable of using
their gifts.  Had such a crystal not been created, we would not have needed your
assistance in this matter."

	Esmerelda leaned on her staff.  "The castle is shielded from hostile
magicks.  It is relatively open to the mental disciplines of the Inquisition.  A
team of sorceresses, Inquisitors, and Assassins was sent in when we first
learned of the possible existence of the crystal, but they were killed.  Their
deaths must be avenged."  Savren paled, his hand white on his staff.

	Finally, Murelle turned her gaze on the four.  "They were killed by
Cymra the Black, once Lady Cymra, second daughter of Empress Corrine IV.  As per
Imperial law, the daughters of the Empress are to be trained in all of the main
houses.  She was a brilliant student, but flawed with ambition and pride.  She
sought to master skills and knowledge that had been forbidden since the first
Empress.  She was exiled four hundred and seventy two years ago.  She traveled
far, and learned much, including the dark rites of resurrection.  She cannot be
killed by mortal means.  She has aligned with the Lich King of Iceholme and
seeks to avenger herself upon us.  She must be destroyed.  She is an abomination
to everything we hold dear and sacred."

	"Now you know."  Syrena leaned on her spear.  "You are to penetrate the
interior of Iceholme, steal into the Castle, destroy the Dark Crystal, and
escape.  With the crystal destroyed, the Lich King will not support Cymra, and
we will be able to restore peace to the border.  The appropriate gear has been
prepared for you all, and you will all leave immediately.  Are there any
questions?"

	Syrena nodded slowly.  "Then may the Goddess keep you all safe."

	Savren took several deep breaths to cleanse and calm himself.  His
Master stood apart, speaking softly with the High Inquisitor and the Vampire. 
The Dark Lady of the Assassins slowly turned her head to stare at him.  He
blinked as if something leapt between them.

	All four bowed formally to their respective owners, then filed out
silently to the portal that would take them to a special site along the border.

	"Remember," Syrena said in parting.  "You have until the next full moon
to complete your task."

	And the four stepped through the portal to the northlands.

	Cold artic air flowed around him, but he did not feel it.  The bleak
landscape of Iceholme mirrored his heart, and provided no comfort for his weary
soul.  Many long years brought him to this point.  His renewed training brought
him many hardships and suffering, but he persevered and completed his training. 
His robes provided him with some shield against the endless winter, and he
peered from beneath his hood to the three others that traveled with him.  The
Ranger and the Rogue knelt side by side and spoke in low tones, motioning in the
snow, planning their course.  The warrior stood apart like Savren, ignoring the
elements as he watched the horizon.  His hand strayed to his throat, to the
collar he wore.  Beneath it dangled a silver medallion that served as both his
rank and prison, for it held the geas that bound him to the Empire's service.

	He held the staff close to his body as the others approached.

	"We have much ground to cover today."  The Ranger spoke.  "Getting past
he border patrols will be no problem, nor will any wandering tribes we
encounter.  We have a fortnight to reach the Castile."

	"I assume that you have means to get us there undetected?"  Savren
asked.

	"Yes."  The Ranger replied.  He pulled out several white canvas suits. 
"We each wear these to help us blend in with the environment.  They are lined
with good wool to keep us warm."

	"No magick?"

	"Magick would just signal our position to the Arch-Lich's wizards."  The
Rogue spoke.  "We have a short time to complete our mission.  I would not have
to fight my way through a horde of orks and undead to reach the Castile and have
to face Cymra the Black exhausted."

	"Ah."  Savren replied.  As part of his training he was taught the tale
of the fallen heir.  

	"Don't you just love targets of opportunity."  The Rogue spoke.

	"Hmm."  Savren accepted the canvas clothing.  He dressed quickly and
secured any loose belongings.  He remained apart from the others, isolated in
his own private pain.   She was dead.

	"I'm Kieron."  The Rogue spoke.

	"Savren."  Savren replied.

	Kieron studied him for the moment.  "Who was she?"

	"Excuse me?"

	"The one you loved."

	Savren's eyes flashed.  "I would thank you to keep to yourself.  My
thoughts are my own."

	Kieron raised his hands in supplication.  "I meant no offense.  I would
gage that all of us present have been affected in someway by the actions of
Iceholme."

	"It might be a fair assessment."  The Ranger spoke.  "I am Aerick
Se'trask, former captain of the Ghost Wood mercenaries."

	"I have heard of you."  Savren replied.  "Your tactics against the
Lich-King were masterful."

	Aerick shook his head.  "We were overmatched from the start.  It was a
fool's errant."

	"Perhaps."  Savren replied, surveying the landscape.	

	The fourth member of their company remained silent and apart.  Savren
noted the arms and armor of the Paladin, but it seemed diminished.  Dimmed of
the normal radiance that was the inner light of warrior.  Savren turned away
from the warrior and examined the view.  It only took minutes for the foursome
to be on their way across the ice plains.  From his studies he noted that they
were not exactly south of the Castile, but more to the north west of it.  Most
of the defenses of the fortress were directed to the south, where attacks were
most likely to occur.  He extended his senses to feel the currents of magickal
energy around him.  There was a massive concentration located around the
Castile, dark and oily.  There was an over abundance of death energy around that
place, and Savren shuddered slightly.

	"Everything alright?" Kieron asked.

	"I'm fine." Savren shook off the feelings.

	"Is it the currents of magick?"

	Savren stared at the young man.  "You understand such things?"

	"In my line of work you have to."  Kieron wrapped the camouflage tightly
about him.  "I used to be a thief."

	"And now a slave to the Empire."

	Kieron shrugged.  "Are we not all slaves?"

	"In some ways.  I was born to it, you have embraced it, Aerick works
with it, and the warrior...I feel it just ran over him."

	Kieron smiled wryly.  "Perhaps you could enlighten me."

	"Oh?"

	"Why is it that the Lich-King wants the Empire?"

	"I'm not too sure.  There are a few legends that surround what may be
the truth."

	"And they are?"

	"According to the more obscure legends, to the west of the Imperial
Capital there is a Gate of Worlds.  A portal that leads to other worlds."

	"Any truth to the legend?"

	"There is a massive fortress at the supposed location.  The First
Imperial Army is stationed there permanently.  Draw your own conclusions."

	"And where does this 'gate' lead?"

	"No clue.  I don't even know if it exists."

	"Any other tales about our would be conquerors?"

	"There is the old standby...rape, pillage...make slaves of the women..."

	"Why make his fortress in the north?"

	"The cold acts as a kind of preservative.  The dead don't rot as bad in
the cold."

	"I should have known."  Kieron spoke.  Aerick dropped to the ground and
motioned for everyone to follow.  Savren reached forth with his senses and
searched.  There was no magick present, so it must be a mundane threat.  Beside
him, Kieron motioned to the east.  A line of black dots moved towards the south.

	"Ork patrol."  Kieron explained. 

	Aerick crawled back to the rest of the group.

	"We'll make for shelter for the night.  Follow me."

	The four moved slowly to the northwest.  Four hours later they reached a
small grotto that would serve as a primitive shelter, and a casual glance
indicated that it had in the past.

	"We'll wait here until nightfall."  Aerick explained.  "We have about a
three day trip to reach the Castile, and I want us all rested for the trip."

	They split up watches to wait out the night.  Aerick used some Nature
Magick to ward the grotto and keep the four warm.

	"Why is it that you can use magick whereas I cannot?"  Savren frowned.

	"I use a form of Druidic magick, the kind of which our adversaries do
not use.  The nature of the magick will mimic that of Ork shamans.  We will be
safe."  Aerick responded.

	"Very well."  Savren wrapped the canvas tighter about him.  "I know
little of the Druidic path, but I will trust you in this."

	"Thanks."  Aerick grinned.

	Savren watched Kieron pull a small pendant out of his armor.  It was
similar to the one that Lady Trelyana gave him.

	"You have been chosen?"  Savren asked.

	Kieron quickly tucked the jewel back into his armor. 

	"A...gift."

	"More like a promise jewel."  Savren replied.  "You are to be mated?"

	"Yes."

	"Be sure in your heart that this is what you want."  Savren replied,
thinking of his own pain.  "Take the joys that come...and prepare for the
heartache of loss."

	"As you have lost?"  Kieron asked.

	"Yes."

	The two men huddled together for warmth as the Ranger stood watch.  They
would all be in the thick of it soon.

Slave to the Empire: Warrior 1


	Sheets of rain pounded the ship, the strong currents forcing the ship
towards the rocky coast line of the Dark Prefecture, the ship's small crew
worked frantically, but the tide was against them.  The cutter slammed into the
reefs that lay at the edge of the Dark Prefecture.  Lightning illuminated the
forbidding cliff walls that dominated the skyline.  A lone armored knight
watched as the cliffs loomed closer, the deck buckled as it cracked upon the
reef.  The knight back-peddled towards the port railing, trying to keep his
balance as the ship rocked in its death throes.  The figure held on as the ship
was torn asunder, and he too was swept under.  His last thought as the water
enveloped him was that it was a fool's quest.

	

	Sir Toril, son of Kayne Greenleaf of the Sun Elf tribe, Champion and
Paladin of Sioban the Morning Star, Lady of Light, coughed.  He winced as he
remembered the reefs and the frightened and panicked faces of the doomed ship as
it was destroyed.  He looked about him.  His surroundings were that of an
underground cavern, massive and ancient, with a large lake in the center of it. 
He pulled his legs out of the frigid water and looked for a possible exit.  His
elven night vision saw no exit along the walls of the cavern nearest to him.  He
shook himself, and then noticed that he wore no armor, and his weapons were all
gone.  He searched fearfully.  Such weapons were his pride and badge of office. 
He paused.

	His eyes looked out over the underground lake.  There.  Something at the
center.  His eyes focused on what appeared to be a small island at the center of
the lake.  Above the island, there was an open ceiling, a kind of chimney.  Dusk
shone down from the opening.  Cautiously, he tossed a small rock towards the
island.  It skipped across the lake for about twenty feet before splashing to a
stop.  As the moonlight shone down, something glittered on the island, much like
a sarcophagus.  He reached out with bare hand and touched the water.  It was
cold, colder than the waters of the farthest northern sea.  It would not take
long to swim the distance, but the shock of the water would kill him.  Why was
he here?  How did he get here?  What was the purpose of the cave?

	From his earliest childhood in the wooded cities of Gilead he has been
pampered and cared for.  Being a scion of one of the noblest families of the
woodland realm, he was given the best training, the best education, and
introduced to all the right families.  He was loved by his parents, who did not
follow the current customs of the day of creating hordes of progeny with slaves. 
As he grew, he did in fact encounter the institution of slavery, and found it
abhorrent.  His parents did own slaves, all noble families did.  He did not see
them until his twentieth year, after he visited the Temple of Sioban, in fact. 
Worship of the Lady of Light was not encouraged, nor was it outlawed.  It simply
was not fashionable to associate with such.  The priests and priestesses of
Sioban advocated freedom for all, truth and understanding.   Young Toril first
went to the Temple on a lark, a dare.  The outer chamber of the Temple was
quiet, yet comforting.  Many strange rumors existed about the Temple and those
who served it.  The most prevalent rumor was that while they abhorred the
institution of slavery, they practiced its many arts for the sole purpose of the
pleasure it gave.  It was a curious dilemma. 

	There was no one in the outer chambers of the Temple.  Candles filled
the alcoves, with hundreds of small crystals hanging above the flickering
lights.  The result was a riot of colored lights that played across the walls
and ceilings of the hall.  At the far end of the hall there was a small alter
draped in red velvet set against an alcove with draped doorways on either side. 
Toril stepped further into the Temple, the faint sound of music echoed as he
approached the altar.  A few benched lined the path to the altar; each was worn
with use and age.  Strangely enough, there were rings set at the base of the
benches along the edge, and an oddly familiar scent was present as he drew
closer to the benches.  He reached the altar and gazed upon it.  It was simple,
with only the velvet cloth covering it.  Atop the cloth was simple book, nothing
else.  Upon the book was a golden circle.

	"May I help you?"

	Toril stiffened as the woman materialized beside him.  She was dressed
in a simple robe with the hood thrown back.    She was half-elven, with flame
like hair that seemed to flow down her back.

	"Ah..." Toril stammered.  She smiled.

	"You came in on a dare?"  The smile remained on her face. 

	Toril blushed.

	She laughed.

	"Come."  She led the young elf to one of the benches and sat, gesturing
for him for side close to her.

	"It is not uncommon for young men to enter here on a dare.  On rare
occasions we get young women here as well."  She crossed her legs and folded her
hands on her knee.  "We are a simple order."  She stated.  "We seek out the
pleasures of life and embrace them.  A touch, a feel, a caress.  A whispered
conversation with a lover.  We revel in all that gives pleasure.  Sunrise is
particularly joyful for us as the sun peaks over the horizon.  To stand bare
before those first rays, to offer oneself to them..." her hand strayed beneath
her robe.

	"What about pain."  He whispered.

	She gazed upon him with lust filled eyes.  "Pain is the twin of
pleasure."  She removed her fingers from her robe, slick with her juices. 
"Would you care to taste?"

	Toril froze.  The scent of her was unmistakable.  His mouth parted
slightly.

	"Have a care," She warned.  "There is a price for such pleasures."

	He accepted her two fingers into his mouth.  His eyes closed as he took
in her taste.  A moan escaped her lips as she rocked the fingers in and out of
his mouth gently.  With her other hand she slowly slid it up his silk shirt
until her fingers found one of his nipples.  She stroked the nub to erection
with her thumb and forefinger.  His breath quickened, his lips still fastened to
her fingers.  With her nails she caught the nipple, and then dug in, twisting
sharply.  Toril's eye's opened and he opened his mouth to scream, but found his
sound muffled as she shoved her remaining fingers into his mouth and pinning his
tongue.  He blinked back tears as the nail of her thumb pressed into the
underside of his jaw.  Her eyes were hooded.  The pain in his nipple became a
warm haze as she worked it.

	"Yes."  She whispered, leaning close.  "I am not some simple trollop to
toy with.  My pleasures have a price."  She released him and leaned back.  Toril
took several deep breaths as his nipple burned as the blood returned to it.  She
let her robe fall open to the side to reveal one of her breasts.  It was full
and round, with a large areola and even larger nipple.  An engraved silver ring
pierced her nipple and danced with every breath she took.  He stared at it as if
hypnotized.

	She looked down and then back at him.

	"Would you like to touch me?"

	Toril blushed furiously and quickly stood.  She simply gazed up at him
as he stared to back away.  She stood lazily, her eyes never leaving his. 

	"When you return...ask for Sister Clara."

	He turned quickly and left the Temple behind.  His friends had long
since vanished.  He returned to his home on the outskirts of the city, his
parents away on business.  He spent the night laying on his bed, his hand
absently stroking the nipple that was abused that morning, his thoughts in
turmoil.  He felt different, changed.  The pain hurt, but only for the moment. 
It was a kind of transdescendental, the pain.  It ate at him, the experience. 
With his free hand he began to stroke his rapidly engorging member.  He closed
his eyes and pictured her face.  He fantasized fucking her, slowly.  Her legs
wrapped around his hips and he pumped his cock into her pussy.

	His hand released his cock right before ejaculating, and he swung his
legs off the bed and took several deep breaths.  He wanted her.  Masturbation
wasn't the answer.  He padded across the floor of his room and dressed quickly
in some old clothing, then pulled a cloak across his shoulders.  He left the
house through the servant's entrance, and retraced his steps back to the Temple. 
The streets were empty but for the Watch, and they paid little attention to the
streets they patrolled.  Toril easily hid in the shadows as they two guards
passed, and quietly entered the Temple.  It was as he left it.  He hesitantly
approached the altar and waited. 

	"May I help you?"  A man asked.  Toril blinked at the human. 

	"I...ah...that is...is Sister Clara here?"

	The man waved to a bench.  "Please seat yourself and I will see if the
Sister is free.  Would you care for some refreshment while you wait?"

	"Ah...not right now thank you."  Toril stammered, his heart racing.  He
sat quickly and placed his hands on the wood bench to keep them from shaking. 
Minutes seemed like hours before a person stepped through the drapes.  A pair of
gloved hands pulled back the hood to reveal the flame haired priestess.  She
raised an eyebrow and a slight smile played across her lips.

	"I am pleased that you have returned.  And so quickly too."

	Toril stood.  He wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and
swallowed nervously.  She laughed and approached him.

	"You are trembling."  She held out her leather gloved hands and took his
in hers.  "Be not afraid.  You have come here for a purpose, yes?"

	Toril swallowed again, taking in her beauty, and then dropped his eyes. 
His penis hardened. 

	"Toril..."  She raised his eyes to hers.

	"How..."

	"Shhh."  She placed a finger on his lips.  "You want me."

	He nodded slowly.

	"Are you prepared to pay that price?"

	He nodded again.  She shook her head.

	"You have to reply verbally.  Are you prepared to pay that price?"

	"Yes."

	She smiled, and released his chin.  With her other hand she touched his
chest, then slid slowly down to erection.  She stroked it though the thin cotton
pants.  She released him fully and stepped back.

	"By your own admission, and being of age, you accept the price of
pleasure.  Once you step beyond these walls, you will be of our order.  For
every priestess, there is a priest, both linked in the light of the Goddess." 
She stepped back to the draped entry and held out her hand.  "Take my hand."

	Toril hesitated, then accepted her hand.  Her smile was radiant as she
pulled him into the passage beyond.  The smell of incense enveloped him as Clara
led him down the hall.  There were many doors lining the walls of the passage,
each marked with arcane and divine symbols.  A side passage led them to a small
foyer, where half a dozen priestesses lounged around a pit filled with pillows. 
Glowing braziers lined the chamber as several men knelt by the priestess and
worshiped them in various ways. 

	"Oh ho Sisters."  One of the priestess said.  "Clara has caught her
one."

	"And a beautiful one at that."  Another spoke.

	Clara pulled Toril to stand next to her.  An elf priestess strode up to
Toril and looked him over.  She was pure blooded Sun Elf, tall and regal.  Her
golden hair was bound in silver strands, and she wore a simple pleated gown. 
All along her slender ears were silver rings, with several more rings piercing
her eyebrows, septum, and lower lip.

	"This is the one?"

	"Yes."  Clara replied.

	"I am the High Priestess."  The Sun Elf spoke.  "As you have guessed we
are not like other faiths in the realm.  Clara has claimed you as her own.  Do
you acknowledge her claim?"

	"I do."  Toril replied softly.

	"Excellent."  She replied.  Her hand snaked out and grabbed his
erection.  "This has been the downfall of many a man.  You will understand this
like no other."  She stroked him lightly before letting him go.  "Do not
hesitate to apply correction where needed young priestess."  The High Priestess
intoned.

	"Yes Wise One."  Clara led him along the wall to a passage at the rear
of the chamber.  For the briefest moment, his eyes fell upon what appeared to be
a priestess shrouded in black...only her eyes visible...red eyes...

	"Oh, and Sister Clara."  Clara turned.

	"Yes Wise One?" 

	"Enjoy yourself dear."

	"I will Wise One."  She looked at Toril.  "I certainly will."

	The chamber to which he was led was huge.  In the very center of the
chamber was a leather covered table.  Ropes and manacles shared spaces with
whips and chains along the walls, along with a hundred other implements of
torture.  Strange pieces of furniture filled the room that defied description. 
She led him to the table at the center of the room and turned to face him.

	"What do you prefer?  Pleasure or pain first?"

	"I have a choice?"

	She laughed.  "Of course you have a choice.  We are not slavers."

	He blinked.  "Pleasure."

	Her hand snaked out and pulled his face to hers.  Her mouth fastened
itself to his and he felt her tongue begin to probe him.  He yielded to the kiss
and let his tongue dance with hers.  Her hands worked furiously to denude him of
his clothing.  She broke the kiss as she looked over his body.  Years of
vigorous exercise and training had honed his body into a lean musculature form. 
She ran her hands over his chest and down his abdomen.  Her hands roamed until
they cupped his ass.  She squeezed and released him.  With a free hand she
released the clasp at her throat and let her robe drop.  She wore only a thick
leather thong beneath besides the leather gloves that reached her armpits.  Her
breasts stood out proudly.  Both her large nipples were pierced with the silver
rings, as was her belly button.  She turned around to show him the tattoo that
ran from the base of her neck all the way down her spine, a dedication to her
Goddess.  She pulled the strings at the back of the leather thong and let it
drop.  Toril stood frozen as she rubbed her tattooed ass seductively.  Then she
turned around.

	She had a penis.

	She smiled.

	Toril's eyes bulged. 

	She laughed.  "Be not afraid my pet."  She took her member in her hand
and raised it up.  Beneath it he saw the familiar folds of womanhood.  She
stroked her penis until it was erect.  It was not large by any standards, but of
average size, but a little thicker girth.  Several rings hung from the bottom of
the penis and several more pierced the outer labia of her vagina.  She had no
testicles visible.

	"My rings and my tattoos are all done in honor of my Goddess."  She
stepped forward to cup his face.

	"I exist for pleasure."  She spoke.  "My body is a living Temple to the
Goddess."

	"Are-"

	"-all priestess like I am?  Yes?  When we make our final dedication to
the Goddess, she blesses us with the male member so that we may understand the
pleasures of the male."

	"Do priests get female parts?"

	"Breasts and pussies?"  She teased.

	Toril nodded. 

	"Sometimes.  Usually the male has to be favored of the Goddess to
receive such gifts.  In rare instances the male becomes as we are."  Her eyes
became hooded.  "Enough talk."

	Her hands took his and placed him on her breasts.  Toril stared at them. 
They were full, riding high on her chest.  She moaned as he squeezed them
gently.  They kissed again, slowly, their cocks brushed each other.  Toril
gasped into the kiss, his body shifted to adjust.  Her eyes laughed as she
reached down to knead his ass and pull him closer.  Her cock rubbed against his
and both were pressed tightly against each other.  His nipples brushed hers as
she touched and stroked him.  She broke away from him and slid up onto the
table.  She crawled down the length of the table until she reached the halfway
point, and looked over her shoulder.  Her ass swayed back and forth invitingly. 
He climbed onto the table and crawled up behind her.  She lowered herself to her
elbows and arched her back.  Her vagina was small, but prominent against the
canvas of her ass.  He felt ready to explode as he rose up and positioned
himself against her opening.  Toril rubbed the head of his penis against her
opening before sliding in a little.  Clara moaned as he pushed in slowly.  He
reached around to fondle her breasts and he slowly rocked in and out.  She was
tight and hot.  Without thinking, one of his hands strayed down to grasp her
cock and began to stroke it in rhythm with his movements.

	"Oh my sweet, sweet pet."  She moaned.  "That's it."  She became tighter
as she neared climax.  Toril slammed into her as his own orgasm neared.  She was
like a vice as they both came.  He felt his hand become sticky as the dual
orgasm flushed through her body.  He withdrew his withered cock as she rolled
onto her side and scoop up her own cum off the leather table and dribble it into
her mouth.  She repeated the process several more times until she reached the
last fingerful, then offered it to him.  Dazed from the experience, Toril opened
his mouth to accept her finger.  He tasted the salty fluid and sucked her finger
clean, then slowly laid beside her as she stretched.

	"Did you enjoy your pleasure?"  She asked.

	"Thank you."  Toril said, laying his head against her shoulder.  "I
never knew it could feel so good."

	"I am pleased.  You have pleased me."  Clara replied.  She slid off the
table and gently moved him to the center of the table.  Toril yawned as he felt
drained from the effort.  He would have to get home soon.  His parents would be
arriving this morning.  He closed his eyes for the moment.

	

	"Toril."  A voice called him.

	His eyes fluttered open and he looked into the face of Clara as she
hovered over him. 

	"Are you rested?"

	"I am, thank you."  He tried to get up, but could not.  He looked up to
find his wrists locked into leather cuffs.  He raised his head to find his
ankles in the same predicament. 

	"What?"

	"You have received pleasure pet, now it is time for the pain."  She
kissed his cheek.

	"I didn't"

	"Mean it?"  She raised an eyebrow.  "If you simply wanted to relieve
yourself all you needed to do was go to a prostitute...or a slave.  YOU wanted
something more, did you not?"

	"I...yes."

	She kissed him full on the lips.  "You belong to us now.  Take the pain
that I give in balance for the pleasure."

	She strapped him down further on the table, with a strap above and below
his nipples, then a strap that straddled his hips, followed by straps as the
juncture of his groin, and finally his knees.  She leaned over and took his
penis in her mouth and sucked gently until it was semi-erect, then pulled until
it was near the top of the hip strap and wrapped a leather strap right
underneath the head and buckled it down.  He moaned at the pain of the strap.  A
thicker leather strap was fastened around his balls and attached to a thin chain
to a loop in between his ankles.  He groaned as his balls were pulled taught.

	"There."  She beamed.  "I will be merciful with you." She said, showing
him a riding crop.  "Do you wish a gag?"

	Fear formed in his eyes.

	"Be not afraid pet."  Clara said.  She laid the crop on his chest and
disappeared out of his view.  She returned with what looked like a leather ball
with a strap running through it and a blindfold. 

	"Raise your head up."  She commanded.  Toril obeyed and she tugged the
blindfold into place, cutting off his vision.  "Open your mouth."  He opened his
mouth and after a moment, the leather ball was forced in.  He tasted something
familiar and soon realized it was her juices.  She did not strap the gag around
his head.  He felt something brush the tip of his penis, then bit down on the
leather ball as the first stroke caught him at the base of his penis.  He fought
the straps as she whipped his penis, the pain forcing him to take deep breaths
between each stroke.  Then it happened.  The pain lessened.  His mind felt
disjointed, and drifted in a warm haze.  He shuddered as the crop ripped into
his left nipple, then the right.  Her teeth clamped down until he felt blood
drawn.  Her tongue cleaned the wound and time seemed to stop.  His eyes
fluttered beneath the blindfold as something pinched the skin underside his
penis.  He jerked as something poked him.  Something felt different, but right. 
His eyes were unfocused as Clara removed the blindfold and then the gag. 

	"I've always felt the blindfold has a good calming effect."  She kissed
his cheek.  "I am so proud of you."  She raised his head.  A glint of silver
hung pierced to the underside of his penis.

	

	A loud stone scrape brought Toril out of his thoughts.  He glanced at
the center of the island.  The stone lid of the sarcophagus had moved.

Slave to the Empire:  Warrior 2


	Toril scrambled back from the water's edge.  Even in the distance he
could tell something moved on that island, and he feared it was not natural in
any sense.  He calmed himself reached forth with his senses.  He frowned.  There
was no great Evil present on the island, no more than would be detected in the
hearts of any mundane folk he encountered in any city.  He picked up a good
sized stone and weighed it.  He dropped it for a smaller stone and kept it ready
to throw.  There was always a chance that an improvised weapon would generate a
chance to recover a greater weapon.  He leaned against the cold, damp rock wall
of the cavern and reflected.  It was by the High Priestess's command that he
take up this, his first quest.  Redeem a dark heart, she commanded.  He
meditated upon her command, trying to fathom the meaning of the quest.  His eyes
fell upon a map of the known world, and his eyes immediately focused not on the
corrupt and evil realm of Iceholme, but rather the Empire.  Particularly the
Western Duchy of the Empire.  Rumor and legend had it that the duchy was ruled
in part by an immortal necromancer.  The darker arts were not illegal to
practice in the world, but it was odd that such a creature, if one such existed,
would be granted leave to rule one of the Great Duchies.  The only way to reach
the place safely was the many Imperial Roads, which he immediately ruled out
since it was well known that no male may bear arms in the Empire without strict
control.  There were a few places to land by sea, he noted.  The geography of
the Duchy was in fact bleak.  Stark mountain ranges, swamps, savannahs, and
deserts.  He rubbed his eyes.  He had to be patient.  The Goddess would guide
him.  He scratched his chest, then touched the ring that threaded through his
left nipple.  His right remained bare.  His mate Clara would ring him again
should he succeed in this quest.

	

	He stared at the ring in his penis for the longest time.  It was small;
half the size of her rings, but elaborately cast in silver with runes and
pictographs.  He sat on the sunken bed of Clara's chambers and waited.  Clara
entered the room moments later bearing a large silver chalice.  Without spilling
a drop she stepped down onto the bed and kneeled down.  Her eyes were glowing in
the light of the braziers as she spoke softly in ritual.  She offered the
chalice to Toril who took it in his hands.  Her hands covered his as he brought
it to his lips to partake.  The wine was sweet and bitter at the same time.  Her
hands kept the chalice at an angle until he drained half of it, then she drank
the rest, their hands never leaving it.  She reverently set the chalice at the
head of the bed and sunk down beside him.  Her hand stroked his thigh gently.

	"You seem distracted."

	"My parents will be arriving home today.  They will be worried I am not
there."

	She frowned.  "You do not have to stay."

	Toril laid down beside her.  "I want to be the dutiful son and be there
for them...but I want to stay here too."

	She leaned forward and kissed him.  Toril stiffened in preparation for
the pain that would follow.  She laughed.

	"You are not going to punish me?"

	"Do you want me to?"

	"Not particularly."

	"Then I won't." 

	"If I kissed you?"

	"Then I would."

	"I don't understand."

	She stroked his face.  "Much of the woe in the world today is through
the malice of males.  It is not deliberate, but something that comes naturally
to males.  Pride, ego, all these are reflections of the problems males are born
with."

	"What of the Empire?"

	"What of it?"

	"Do you not approve of their policies?"

	"The Empire is a balancing force in the world, much like our order, but
on a grander, more physical scale."

	"I still don't understand."

	"Let me put it this way.  Any pleasure I take from you I will pay for in
my own way.  Any pleasure you take from me you will pay for in your own way."

	"How can I tell the difference?"

	She took his hand in hers and placed it on her cock.  "Would you
willingly suck my cock?  Would it give you pleasure?"

	Toril felt her cock twitch as his hand held it.  "Would it please you?"

	"You are trying to change the direction of the question.  Do you like
sucking cock?"

	"No."

	"Then for you the act would be akin to punishment, but for me pleasure. 
Have you ever had your cock sucked?"

	"No.  I never have."

	"Never?"

	"No, I have never felt that pleasure."

	"If I were to suck your cock, would you suck mine?"

	Toril blushed.  "I would try.  I want to please you."

	"That is a very submissive answer.  I did not think a young male Sun Elf
of this day and age could be such."

	"Would you believe I was conceived and born by parents who loved each
other?" 

	Her eyes were thoughtful.  "I would have to inquire to the High
Priestess on this matter.  I have been born here in the Temple and have lived
all my life amongst the Sisters.  I know no other way, and very little of the
ways of the world."

	"You seem worldly enough for me."

	She kissed him gently.  "Thank you pet."  She raised a hand to hide a
yawn.

	"Sleepy?"

	"It has been a long day."  She eased closer to him.  She made a gesture
with her hand and the lights dimmed.  She draped a leg over Toril's as she
pulled a fur blanket over them.  In the near darkness he could still make out
her features.  It all seemed strange to him, how everything happened so quickly. 
Clara snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his chest.

	"Sleep now."  She whispered.

	

	He awoke suddenly to sunlight streaming into his room.  He glanced about
quickly, disoriented.  It was his room at his parent's manor.  Was it all a
dream?  He thought.  His room was exactly as he left it, right down to the old
linen shirt draped over the chair at his desk.  He slid out of bed and dressed
quickly, then made his way downstairs to the solarium, where his family usually
met for the morning meal.  He heard voices and laughter as he approached the
indoor garden.  It was strange.  His parents did not usually hold visits in the
solarium during the mornings.  Business and other affairs usually took place in
the late afternoon/evening hours.  He cautiously approached and cracked the door
open.  Both his mother and father were sitting at the small table in two of the
four huge wingback chairs, facing him.  They were speaking quite jovially with
someone who he could not see.  His mother smiled at him as he entered.

	"My son, it is good of you to join us this morning.  We have a rather
special guest." 

	Toril bowed to his parents.  He approached the chair that held the
guest...a shrouded figure with red eyes.  Alabaster hands reached up to pull
back the hood...

	"TORIL"

	Toril blinked awake.  Clara leaned over him, a concerned look on her
face.

	"I dreamt I was at my home."

	"Come, it is time for the morning meal."  She rose from the bed and
opened a side panel along the wall.  She donned a simple robe and handed Toril
one.  He rose shakily and put it on, then followed her out into the halls of the
Temple.  It was a communal dining hall, with a long table where the meal was
served.  Clara took a wooden bowl and spoon and filled up on a hearty stew.  She
handed the bowl to Toril and fixed one herself, then led him to a table where a
couple of priestesses sat along with the High Priestess herself. 

	"There is no formality here child."  The High Priestess sat.  She waved
her hands over the meal in blessing then began to eat.  Toril looked at the
three before Clara nudged him.  Eat, she mouthed.  He ate absently, despite the
food being the best he had ever tasted.  He was still dazed, and confused.  

	"Clara, I wish to see you and your pet in my chamber in after you finish
your meal."  She rose and glided out of the room.

	Toril set the spoon down in the bowl and watch Clara wipe the last of
the stew out of the bowl with a hard roll and swallow the meal down with a mug
of water.  She handed him the empty bowl and directed him to the large wash
basin next to the serving line.  A young woman took the bowls with a smile and
shooed him off, and he returned to Clara who stood by the door.  She smiled at
him and took his hand.  The halls of the Temple were smooth stone, cut and laid
by a master craftsman.  It became apparent to Toril that the Temple was much
larger than it appeared to be.  Later he would learn that the Temple was
enchanted so that it could link to all the Temples throughout the world. Access
to the doors that led to the various Temples was restricted to the higher
echelons of the Church.  Each bedchamber could be altered according to the
tastes of its occupant.  Clara's chamber, he recalled, was circular, with a
large bed sunk into the floor in the center of the room.  Along the walls were
various cabinets for clothing and other items.  A small fireplace stood opposite
the door.  There were no servants or slaves in the Temple, everyone drew duties
to perform be it cooking or cleaning.  The High Priestess's chamber, on the
other hand, was large and spacious, with a full sized bed resting on a platform
to one side, with a small water closet off to the side.  It was circular like
the other sleeping chambers, but had a small desk for her convenience.  Part of
the room was set up for her pleasure as a play area.

	Clara knocked respectfully on the open door and waited.  The High
Priestess ushered the two in, and motioned for them to sit on soft leather pads
besides her chair.  She sat back down in her chair as Clara gracefully knelt on
one of the pads, dragging Toril with her to kneel on the other.

	"You have many questions about our order, do you not pet?"  She rested
comfortably in her chair.

	"I don't know where to begin."  Toril stammered.

	"Perhaps some history on our order?"  She suggested.  "In some ways, we
are linked part and parcel to the Empire.  Our order was founded here in Gilead
the very day the Empire was born.  There has been some false rumor planted that
we are in fact in league with the Empire.  We are not.  Our order seeks to
create a balance between the male and female.  Part of our training is in how to
dominate, but also how to submit.  As you learn, you will find that you are not
always punished for pleasure.  Only in the selfish act of taking pleasure for
yourself."  She cocked her head.  "When you took Clara, did you think of all
about her pleasure?  About pleasing her as well as yourself?"

	"I...I don't know.  I touched her while..."

	"You mean you masturbated her while you fucked her."

	"Yes."

	"He speaks the truth Wise One."  Clara chimed in.

	"Were you pleased by it?"

	"It was passable."  She replied.

	Toril blinked.

	"Toril," The High Priestess spoke.  "You will have to learn all the ways
of pleasing your mate."

	His eyes enlarged, almost coming out of his head.  "My Mate?"  His voice
was strangled.

	"Yes."  She said calmly.  "When you took Clara, you started something. 
When you drank from a sacramental chalice with blessed wine, you declared your
intentions."

	"I did not know."

	"Ignorance is no excuse."  She said flatly.  "You are a man by the laws
of Gilead, capable of making your own decisions."  She narrowed her eyes and
leaned forward.  "Will you accept responsibility for your actions?  Will you do
your duty?"

	Toril took a deep breath and looked at Clara.  She was very beautiful,
kind, and intelligent.  Was it any different if he was introduced through
family?  While she did have a different body than what he was used to, there was
nothing he could not handle.  At least he hoped so.  Clara smiled slightly, her
eyes danced.  How would he explain everything to his parents?

	"Yes."  He replied.

	The High Priestess smiled in return.  "Excellent.  Your parents would be
proud."

	He froze.  "My parents?"

	"I spoke to them last night."  She leaned back.  "While they are
confused about your choice, they understand and respect your decision."

	"You knew I would say yes?"

	"Of course."  She replied.  "One of the things you learn is how to read
people and understand how they think.  You come from a loving family, a rarity
in these times.  You were raised to take responsibility for your actions."  She
turned to her desk.  "For those who do not have yet taken a mate, I am often
called upon to act as surrogate."  She retrieved a long needle and a silver
ring.  "In time you will perform this duty." 

	She turned her chair back to Clara and motioned the woman forward.  She
took the needle and let her kiss it, then took her bottom lip between her
fingers.  With a quick motion, she inserted the needle through her bottom lip in
the center and quickly ringed her.

	"The rings symbolize accomplishments, achievements.  As you learn and
grow, you will gain more rings."  She touched several on her face, then opened
her robe.  Her nipples were pierced twice, once horizontally, once vertically. 
There were two other rings that pierced her breasts above each nipple, as well
as two piercings in her navel.  Her nether regions held as many rings as her
face, with a ring that pierced her hood, her clitoris, and many more piercing
both inner and outer labia.  Her penis was huge, jutting above her vagina and
just as heavily ringed as the rest of her.  She smiled and handed Clara the
needle and a ring.

	"Toril, as your mate, Clara has the right to ring you, just as you have
the right to ring her.  She chose to have a lip ring this time, where would you
like yours?"

	"I have a choice?"

	She laughed.  "Yes, you do." 

	He looked at Clara.

	"Where you like to put the ring?"

	"I would love to have your nipples pierced first."  Clara stroked his
face.  She undid the ties on his robe and exposed his chest.  She leaned forward
and took his left nipple in her mouth and sucked on it.  He felt the warm
sensation of her tongue swirling around his nipple, the cool metal of her new
ring teased him.  He closed his eyes as she worked.  He opened them to find the
High Priestess kneeling behind him and pulling his head between her breasts. 
One of her hands strayed down to flick and pinch his other nipple.  He gasped as
the needle slid though his nipple, followed by the dull throb of the ring
settling into place on his left nipple.  Clara licked the ring once and reached
up to kiss him, her tongue danced with his in a moment of tranquil bliss.  He
felt a hand stroke his ass, followed by a pair of fingers that probed his brown
rose.  Clara's eyes were bright as she touched his face gently.  The fingers at
his ass pressed in slightly.  He rose up a little, only to have Clara restrain
him with her hands. 

	"You are a virgin in this?"  The High Priestess asked.

	"Yes Wise One."  Toril replied huskily.

	"Will you submit to your mate in this?"  She asked again.  "Will you
offer her the pleasure of your ass?"

	Toril saw his life with Clara reflected in both their eyes.  "Yes."  He
reached down hesitantly with his hands and took her penis in his hands and
stroked it softly.  There was love in her eyes as he stroked her to a full
erection, then slid back, impaling himself further on the High Priestess's
fingers.  He studied the erection in his hands, before taking a deep breath and
placing a kiss on the tip.  He felt a hand massage his back as he licked the
head slightly.  There was a musky smell, not wholly unpleasant.  He took it
slowly into his mouth.

	"Easy pet." Clara warned.  "Cover your teeth with your lips."

	He listened to her instructions, following each command to the best of
his ability.  He was especially surprised to find that himself neither being
revolted or disgusted.  There was a salty taste in his mouth.  His eyes rose to
meet those of his mate, who smiled gently and stroked his hair as he ran his
tongue along her length. 

	"Enough."  She spoke, gripping his head and lifting it off her.  Strings
of pre-cum ran from his mouth to the tip of her penis as he withdrew.  With a
hand extended, she led him to the large bed that was the High Priestesses.  The
elder Sun-Elf joined them on the bed as Clara pushed him down onto his back. 
She raised his hips up enough to raise his ass as she slipped between his legs. 
She accepted a jar of scented oil from the High Priestess and dipped a finger
into the thick gel.  Her eyes were alight with desire as she slowly inserted the
finger into his rectum.  A second finger joined the first and they both began to
slowly rock in and out.  A hand gripped his penis and slowly began to stroke it. 
He closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensations. 

	Something pressed against his sphincter. 

	"Deep breath."  Clara ordered.

	He inhaled as he felt the head of the penis start to penetrate his rear. 
He gasped and started to struggle as a pair of hands held his legs in place.  A
warm mouth replaced the hand on his own penis.  It was maddening the
pressure...the pain followed by the pleasure. 

	"That's it, breathe."  Clara's fingernails traced spirals on his inner
thighs.  "Relax...open yourself to me."

	The assault continued mercilessly.  Soon, his own hips rocked in motion
with her thrusts, and he howled his climax along with hers.  He drowsed
afterwards as he lay between his mate and the High Priestess. 

	"Now that the preliminaries are out of the way," the High Priestess
spoke.  "I know of your martial skills and drive..."  She raised an eyebrow. 
"Would you like to become a candidate for Paladin training?"

	

	Toril blinked, his memories vanished as smoke as he found himself lying
against another.  An alabaster hand stroked the side of his cheek absently as he
smelled the scent of death.  He leaned his head back to stare into the red eyes
of his dreams.

	"Yes."  The woman's voice was cold and imperious.  "You will do nicely."

Slave to the Empire:
Warrior 3


	Toril flew from the shrouded form that held him.  White hands gripped
the sides of her hood and pulled it back, revealing an unearthly beauty beneath. 
Her skin was akin to the finest marble statue, flawless in appearance.  Her lips
matched her eyes in the glowing shade of red in the dark cave.  A pale pink
tongue reached out to lick her lips, revealing the sharp canines in her mouth. 
He steeled himself against the woman shaped creature.  A Vampire.  The figure
rose slowly.

	"Yes...you will do nicely indeed."

	Toril dropped into a fighting stance.  "You will have to earn your meal
damned one."

	She laughed.  "Damned?"

	He frowned.  "Are you not of the deathless?  The undead?"

	"Perhaps."  The woman spoke.  "You are of the Order of the Sun, are you
not?"

	"You know I am."

	"A mighty paladin of a small order."  She mocked.  "Their great
warrior."

	"SILENCE!"  Toril snarled.  "You profane-"

	"Nothing.  Your order is nothing...just an excuse for rich sluts to get
a quickie."

	Toril's mouth hung slack.

	"A child...a child sent on a man's task."

	Toril attacked.

	It was a futile gesture, for the vampire countered his every attack,
often deflecting it so that he came against the hard rocks.  She laughed as he
swung his arm to grapple with her.  Toril grunted as she allowed the grapple to
succeed, then sucked in his breath sharply as she expertly pinned him to the
ground.  A low growl escaped her throat as she forced his head back, exposing
his jugular.  Toril closed his eyes and braced for the strike that never came. 
He opened his eyes to see her shudder as she withdrew to a safe distance away
from him. 

	"That was very foolish."

	"Of me?  Or you?"

	She smirked.  "I can smell the blood in your veins."  Her eyes narrowed. 
"How is your faith?"

	"My faith?"

	"Do you still believe?"

	"Yes."

	"Do you?"  She stroked her cheek with a long fingernail.  "Do you
really?"

	He frowned.

	Her smile was akin to a well fed cat's.  "Shall I tell you a tale?"  Her
eyes flashed like miniature suns.  "There was once a female sun elf of the
K'eloris Clan, Calaya was her name.  She was all that her house made her, and
she was spoiled.  She had everything, and wanted nothing.  So one day she
encountered an old woman in the forest shire, who promised her heart's desire to
her in return for bringing others to the old ways."  She cocked her head to the
side.  "A return to the worship of the old gods."

	Toril frowned. 

	"Astrathe, Gorligo, Killiaen, Verat'taa, and Sioban."   The vampire
stood and looked to the open sky silhouetted in the mirror of the lake.  "Five
gods and goddesses whom time had forgotten, that is, forgotten to all those who
did not live before the Founding.  Of the five, it was the Goddess Astrathe who
called for the Breaking."  She paused.  "You know of what I speak."

	"Yes."

	"Your precious Goddess Sioban struck the first blow that broke the
chains that bound the Shadows from their prison.  It was Sioban who slew the
Morning Lord and assumed his mantle, and it was Sioban who brought slavery back
to the Woodland Realm.

	"Calaya brought the old ways back, and was rewarded with great power. 
She had five children; each followed the Returned as they grew.  Kurne
Dre'Kaluuss became the infamous Warlord of Palen; Dranus of the Silver Tongue
followed Verat'taa and became the favored thief and rogue of the Trickster
Goddess.  Malak the Black delved into the dark arts of Gorligo, and emerged
changed and reborn and Makiri the Lich King, Lord of Iceholme.  And
Dor'nea...you have met."

	"The High Priestess of Sioban."  Toril felt his guts twist.  He could
not believe it, but it all sounded too true, despite his distrust of the undead
before him.  "And you....you follow Killiaen."

	She laughed.  "Foolishness."  Her eyes met his as she opened her vest to
reveal a pair of perfect breasts, between them was the mark of the Balancer, the
twin scales that judge all.  Toril paled.  None would dare wear the mark of the
Ultimate Judge unless one was truly of the Order.

	"So the little one understands."  She laces her leather vest closed. 
"Killiaen has no follower in this world.

	"Killiaen walks in this world."

	Toril's mind was awash with the implication.  Everything he had learned
about the Divine told him that the Gods and Goddesses couldn't physically
manifest in this world, but they could work through an Avatar, a mortal being
that could be possessed for a set purpose.

	"Why are you telling me all this?"

	"You have a task to perform do you not?  A quest?"

	"Yes."

	"Let me guess...find a truly evil soul and redeem it?"

	"How?"

	"Standard get rid of a troublesome warrior quest."

	"It is a noble task, one that would prove my worth and my faith."

	"Ah...is that it?  You needed to prove your worth?"  She shook her head. 
"I am well over a thousand years old and it never fails to surprise me that
young men of all species have the irrepressible urge to act foolish.  The only
person that can judge your actions of being of worth is you.  Even those on high
must judge their own actions."

	Toril stared at her like she was insane.  Here he was, a newly
christened Paladin of Sioban, and he was stuck in a cave getting ethics lessons
from a Vampire.

	The Vampire paused and stared at him intently.  "How intent are you on
completing your task?"

	"It is my quest...it is a sacred obligation."

	"There is perhaps one way to accomplish your goal...if you are willing."

	"How do you know that my task is not to redeem you?"

	She laughed.

	"Use your senses boy.  Am I evil?"

	Toril closed his eyes and focused.  There was no taint to her aura,
which confused him even more.  How was it possible for a creature such as this
NOT to be evil?  There was a hint of evil, no more than what was found in any
who were guided partially by self interest.

	"I don't understand."  He confessed.

	"I was not turned into a vampire in the normal sense.  Killer I may be,
but I became what I am by my own hand."

	"Necromancer."  He spoke.

	"Indeed."

	Necromancers were among the most feared of magick users.  Many who
professed knowledge of the Death Arts were quite evil, but some maintained a
balance, and remained neutral in their studies.  It was rumored in some circles
that a truly talented Necromancer could transcend even death.

	"What is the task you have in mind?"

	"Kill Killiaen's avatar and end her meddling in this world."

	"How does this help me?"

	"You will find in the course of your quest the answer to that question." 
She rose slowly.  "You serve a jealous Goddess.  Killiaen will most assuredly
temp you into forsaking your vows."

	"Who is her avatar?"

	She smiled.  "In due time."  Her eyes were burning embers as she stared
at him.  "Are you sure you are a Paladin?"

	"You doubt?"  Toril replied, standing.

	"Every Paladin I have met in my existence took many years to become a
Paladin.  How long have you been a Paladin?"

	"Six weeks."

	"And how long did it take you to train to become a Paladin?"

	"A day."

	She raised an eyebrow.  "Are you sure you are a Paladin?"  She asked
again.

	"Yes."

	"Prove it."  She challenged.

	Toril shook his head.  "It doesn't work like that."

	"Work like what?  Are you afraid that I am right?  That you are nothing
more than a jumped up warrior with a few magick trinkets?"

	"Damn you."

	"You'll have to do better than that boy.  I've been damned by better by
lesser men."

	His eyes narrowed in focus.  One of the simplest spells in his arsenal
was an illumination spell, which he chanted softly under his breath.  In normal
circumstances the area around him would be bathed in soft white light, but the
effect was nothing.  The only light was that of the illumination provided by the
hole above.  He blinked.  Was she right?  His own thoughts drifted back to the
day he was invested, as it were, as a Paladin of Sioban.  The High Priestess
herself performed the ritual, and he knelt before the statue of his goddess and
spoke the words as directed by her.  A beam of light enveloped him and he felt
light and happy.  For a briefest moment he felt that he understood.  Afterward
he was presented with fine arms and armor, and tutored in their abilities and
history.  With a solemn expression the High Priestess laid down her charge upon
him, to seek out and confront an evil soul, with the intent of redeeming said
soul.  He never questioned once the words or the intentions of the High
Priestess.  He only accepted and obeyed.

	"You question yourself, that is good."  She spoke.  "Before you can
serve any god or goddess you must first know yourself, and be content with that
knowledge."

	"And what of you?"  Toril spoke bitterly.  "What do you question?"

	"Everything." She replied.  "I must weigh all my options before acting,
and that act must be something I can live with.  The Balancer would accept
nothing less."

	Toril slumped to the rocky floor of the cavern.  Was he living a lie? 
His thoughts strayed to his mate, the scent of her skin, her laughing eyes, and
her generous smile.   She was unlike any woman he has ever met or known with the
exception of his own mother, and being in the same room with her left him
feeling weak.  He loved her.  It was a simple statement, but one that was very
profound.  He was in love with Clara, and would do anything for her.

	"You are thinking of her, aren't you."  The vampire spoke.  "Your
thoughts are of the woman you love, although she isn't truly a woman."

	"Yes."  Toril whispered.

	"An honest answer."  She judged.  "You would do anything for her, no
matter what her command or desire, is this not true?"

	"It is." 

	"Good."

	"I don't understand."

	"THAT, is even better."  She laughed.  Toril frowned.  "Understanding is
the hardest of ideas to grasp.  Most people walk through life thinking they
understand, and that understanding, like wisdom, comes with age.  Understanding
the why of a concept or idea is in reality rooted in pain.  For in suffering,
there is clarity, and in clarity, truth.  If you want to gain understanding, you
must pay the price for it."

	Toril blinked.

	"Come."  She held out a hand.

	He accepted her outstretched hand and did not resist as she pulled him
into a tight embrace.  There was a wave of disorientation as magick enveloped
them both.  The world around them seemed to disappear in a mist as they
teleported from the cavern.  The mists cleared to reveal a large circular
chamber, the walls decorated with very tasteful, if not ancient, tapestries.  A
pair of doors stood open at one end of the chamber, he noted each carved by
master crafters, and both depicted scenes of Dominance and Submission, one on
each door.  In the center of the room was a simple bed, unmade, with the furs
partially lying on the floor beside it.  She stepped away from the young sun elf
and looked at him.

	"What?  Did you think I sleep in crypt?"  She strode across the room and
pushed on a wall.  It rotated outward to reveal a simple closet, and the vampire
stripped off her clothing and pulled on a simple gown.  Toril stared at her
perfect alabaster skin before turning away.

	"You can look."  She said.  "I do not mind."

	Toril hesitantly turned his head and saw her through her peripheral
vision.  The robe was open down the front, exposing her bare sex.  Her vagina
had a bluish tinge to it, but it looked very inviting to him.  She approached
him and circled him slowly.

	"Come, you must be hungry."

	The halls were kept in pristine cleanliness.  Torches lined the halls
that left no spot in shadow.  Doors lined the walls in regular spaces, each one
closed and from what his limited magick sense could tell, warded from entry. 
They followed several junctures to what appeared to be a main hall.  It was a
large hall, with vaulted ceilings that supporting intricate iron chandeliers. 
There was a sense of age about the hall, and he followed the vampire as she
walked between the rows of stone crafted tables and benches until she reached
the throne that dominated the room.  There were a few others present in the
hall, mainly humans, but with smattering of dwarves and Halflings.  All stood
when she entered the room and waited silently as she ascended the steps to the
throne and then sat regally upon it.  A dwarf rapped a staff against the marble
floor of the hall.

	"All pay homage to the Grand Duchess of the West, Lady Murelle deCalaise
duBranee."

	Toril stood in silent shock.

	

	Justice, he learned, had no mercy, no emotion, and no passion.  Only the
cold, hard facts and equally cold consequences.  Lady Murelle did not chain him,
restrain him, or inhibit him in any way.  He had free run of the keep, with the
exception of the dungeons and her private chambers.  Everyone in the Keep wore
collars, and there were no exceptions, except for him.  His lack of a collar
made him a non entity in the Keep.  Only on the orders of the Duchess would the
staff interact with him.

	The justice he witnessed was something simple, and yet not simple.  The
denizens of the Duchy of the West were a mixed lot, of both humans and humanoid
races.  Lady Murelle ruled her Prefecture with an iron fist, neither showing
mercy nor remorse for her judgments, and did not favor any particular race over
the other.  The case he was to witness was one of the diminutive lizard like
Kobolds and a rather grungy human.  The Kobolds laid claim that the human had in
fact attacked and killed several of their tribe, which resided somewhat
peacefully along the marshland of the prefecture.  The human countered with the
claim that several Kobolds had killed his daughter.  Lady Murelle sat upon her
throne and listened intently to the arguments offered.  She leaned forward to
examine both of them, and then closed her eyes.  Her perfect lips parted in a
silently cast spell, and the shade of the human's daughter rose from the cold
stone floor.  The human sputtered and stepped back into the Duchess's guards,
and was forcibly cast forward to face the apparition. 

	The assembled court listened to the tale of the wraith, and showed no
emotion towards the tale told by the sad spirit.  The girl took her own life to
escape from a rather abusive father.

	"Your own actions condemn you."  Lady Murelle spoke.  "By your own hand
and admission did you attack and kill several of Tiko's tribe without
provocation.  Your punishment will be decided and carried out by those whom you
have wronged."

	The human tried to flee, but the Duchess's guards held him firm before
handing him over to the small lizard folk.  Toril watched with mixed emotions. 
His first reaction was to save the human from what he had considered to be
inferior, if not evil, creatures.  To find out that all races had lived in a
rough harmony was disturbing.  The Duchess's chamberlain rapped his staff
against the floor three times and announced that this night's court is
dismissed.  The assembled nobles all stood and bowed as one before filling out
in a silent line.  It unnerved him.

	"You are disturbed."  She spoke, acknowledging him for the first time in
several days.

	"Yes."  He spoke.  "It is difficult to accept."

	"What?  The fact that all races do have some things in common?  Even the
most darkest of races have a kind of rough family.  I do not know of the Nether
races, nor of Celestial, but I know that all races that occupy this world share
this one simple fact.  Law takes no sides, and governs all equally."

	"Law interpreted by you."

	She raised an eyebrow.  "Even one such as I am bound by the law."  She
rose from her throne and stepped down from the dais.  "I too, was young once." 
She laughed. 

	"I admit it was many ages ago, but you too would have judged me harshly. 
I was a thief, a murderer, a hired killer when the price was right.  I reveled
in my hate and darkness."

	"How did you change?"

	"The first Empress."  She pulled the pins from her hair and shook out
the strands until they fell naturally down her back.  "I was hired to kill her. 
However, she defeated me easily and offered me a way out, a second chance as it
were.  I spent ten years as her slave before I learned enough to earn my
freedom.  It was then I was introduced to a Priestess of the Balancer, she took
me in and set me on the path I now trod."

	"What happens now?"

	"Now?"  She glanced over a shoulder at him.  "Patience." 

	Toril frowned, obviously confused.  Nothing seemed to make sense.  His
train of thought was interrupted by the appearance of a female sun elf, a half
sun elf to be precise.  The woman only gave him a cursory glance before
approaching the Duchess.  The newcomer was dressed in a loose brown robe belted
at the waist.  Lady Murelle crossed over to the half-elf and spoke with her in
low tones.  Toril remained fixed to his position as the half-elf kissed the
vampire and touch her face in the manner of a lover.  There was tenderness in
the vampire's face as she returned the touch.

	"Toril."  Lady Murelle spoke.  "You are dismissed.  Return to your
chambers."

	Toril's last glance was that of the Duchess leaning forward to take the
half-elf's breast into her mouth.

	

	Toril sat in the small room set aside for his use.  It was completely
bare with the exception of a small bed along one side of the wall, with an even
smaller wardrobe opposite the bed.  Finishing out the furnishings was a desk and
chair set opposite the door.  He eschewed the chair to sit on the floor in the
center of the room and let his mind drift.  What was the correct path for him to
follow?  It nagged at him, worried his thoughts.  He did love Clara despite all
that had been said of the High Priestess and the Followers of Sioban, and it was
that small flame in his heart that told him all that he had learned could not be
all evil.  He rose slowly to his feet and exited the room, his feet following
the well worn path to that of chambers of the Lady Murelle.  He knocked
respectfully on her chamber door, and waited.  The door opened silently moments
later to admit him entrance into her inner sanctum.  She lay on her bed, her
eyes but embers in the dim light as she observed him as he approached.  He knelt
with head bowed before the foot of her bed.

	"I do not know or understand much of what you have said my Lady, but I
await your geas."

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