Darkest Dawn: Chapter 1 [elves, solo female, forced]

Darkest Dawn: Chapter 1  (complete version)
Contains: female solo, forced fellatio, and rape

	Ishana was still dozing, head in Sidric’s lap, when he pulled the cart to a stop by the walkway to her door.  He nudged her awake, gently, and gave her a moment to come to her senses.

	She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked up, smiling wide and content.  In the haze of failing light, shadows fell across Sidric’s face, obscuring all but his eyes.  A spark from a nearby lantern gave them a confident, almost possessive edge.  She felt as though he could take on the whole world, and win.

	He leaned forward and planted a delicate kiss on her lips, just enough to give her a taste but leave her wanting more.  She reached up and pulled him closer, locking their lips together.  Sidric flinched and Ishana drew back with a start.

	“What’s wrong?” she asked, the hurt obvious in her voice.

	“Oh, it’s just my-“

	“Your head!  From when we fell over!”  The thought of his need woke her completely and in an instant she was all energy and business.  She positioned herself on the backboard of the cart, behind Sidric.  “Here, let me take care of it.”

	“What are you going to do?”

	“Sssh, I need to concentrate.”  Ishana closed her eyes and placed her hands, gently this time, on the top of his head.  She may be a novice, but Altazar had started her off with simple, beneficial charms.  She had taken to healing, he said, like a dragon to the wing.  Gingerly, she edged her fingers around his bruise.  Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled, focusing her attention on the escaping wind.  As her mind followed the air flow into the aether, she could feel a sliver of it flow back into her.  The sliver drew into her as she took a second breath.  Holding it, she cleared her mind of everything else.  A word formed in her mind, a name.  As she drew the name closer to herself, her mind filled with a warm, inner light.  Ishana tried to form the word into a coherent image, but the tighter she grasped at it, the more easily it slipped through her fingers.  The light began to blink, fading in and out of focus.  She took a third breath and let it burn in the back of her throat.  Its power felt muted, somehow, but she held on to it all the same.  After a moment she caught the word again.

	She did not so much speak the word, as let it escape through her lips, “Ghyran.”

	Time seemed to slow as the warmth in her mind poured into her heart.  There, it bubbled and churned as if exited to be called upon.  Her body clenched tight in rebellion, but she forced her muscled to loosen and relax.  As she did so, the warmth flowed out through her hands and into her fingertips.  She could almost taste the magic on her tongue, but there was a tang to it she had never known before.

	Below her, she could feel Sidric relax into her lap as though fainting.

	Suddenly the warmth in her hands morphed from a soothing balm to an annoying itch.  Then it changed again, into a sort of burning pain.  She opened her eyes and saw that her fingertips were sparking with a bluish green.  The sight of it made her realize the pain was growing even more intense.

	Hastening to bite back her panic, Ishana began to chant a verse her master had taught her.  She repeated it again and again as a mantra.  The words were a piece of High Magic, the first Altazar had allowed her to study.  They began a spell of unweaving and dissipation, and although the knowledge to use the true form was far beyond her reach, the intent of the spell gave her enough focus to drive the Winds away from her safely.  She risked the breach of concentration to check on Sidric.  Thankfully, her spell had been weaker than she thought and the sparks merely fizzled out as they touched him without so much as singeing his hair.

	“Is something wrong?” he asked, more curious than alarmed.

	Her breathing was labored when she replied, “I- I’m sorry.  I wasn’t able to, to do it right.  I suppose I’m just nervous about tomorrow, or…”

	“Or I’m even better than I thought,” he said.  Though he was facing the other direction, she could just see his self satisfied grin.  “Thank you for the complement.”

	“No, it’s definitely about tomorrow,” she said, tugging his hair playfully.  He reached up and squeezed her hand.

	“I’ll see you before you go,” he told her.

	“You better.”

	They kissed once more before Sidric left her at the door, driving his cart off down the narrow cobbled street.  Once he had disappeared behind a bend, she opened the door and walked inside.

	Ishana found her brother at his desk, his head weighing heavily in his hands.  The candles were low and wax was pooling around them.  She crept closer on tiptoes, only to realize that he was deep in sleep.  Ishana leaned across him to blow out the flickering lights.  As they flared before extinguishing, she caught a brief glimpse of his face.  His lips were twisted into a grimace and his eyelids were squished shut as though he was in pain.

	She sighed, realizing for the first time just how deeply her leaving was going to affect him.  After the deaths of their parents, Kairon had raised his younger sister, alone.  By now, he was more of a father to her than anything else.  Over the years she had seen him spurn several offers of command duties or those as a bodyguard to a prince, all because he knew she still needed him.  He had struggled to keep from being too protective or overbearing, but that afternoon, when he let Sidric “walk” her home, must have been very painful for the charioteer.  The long lives of the elves led many of them to be fairly promiscuous and free with their physical acts, but Kairon’s strern gaze had always managed to keep potential suitors at bay.  Mostly.  That he had allowed Sidric such free access to her was proof that he was preparing to let her go.

	The Tower of Hoeth was going to be even lonelier than she had thought.

	She knew a spell or two that could help him relax through the night, but after the incident with Sidric outside, she felt it was too much of a risk.  She might do more harm than good.

	Ishana fetched her brother a warm, silken blanket and draped it over his broad shoulders.  She kissed him on the cheek before making her way up stairs.  When the door closed behind her and she was safe in her room, she let out an exhausted sigh.  As long as the day had been, she could feel it deep in her bones how long the next would be.

	Out in the streets the lamps were being lit, one by one.  The warmth of their orange glow mixed with the cold moonlight as it ghosted through her window and washed across her.  Ishana smiled sadly as she took in her room, perhaps for the last time.  Books, tucked away neatly on their shelves; the porcelain-headed doll Kairon had given her when she was just a child; a matched shield and sword hanging over her bed… What would happen to everything when she was gone?  Would Kairon leave everything the way it is, or put everything in storage to keep it from becoming a painful memory?  It would be decades, maybe even centuries before she returned…

	She untied her sash and let her robes fall across her slender shoulders and onto the floor.  They pooled at her feet, leaving her skin bare against the light.  The cool air chilled her skin and spread goosebumps up her legs, down her arms, across her back and spread over her chest.  Ishana quickly sprinted across the room and hoped into the nest of blankets on her bed.

	Ishana settled into the silks and let her body heat warm them for her.  Only her eyes popped out of the top of the blanket, gazing at the silvered shield bearing her family’s crest, a light blue spear piercing a starburst of the same color.  The image gave her the same sense of comfort it had for decades, and she felt a pang of melancholy at the thought of sleeping in a new bed from now on.

	With another sigh she closed her eyes and rolled over onto her side.  As she did, she noticed a strange itching sensation between her legs.  Mildly annoyed, she reached down to feel what the problem was.  As her fingers brushed against her inner thigh, they came across a dried, peeling film stuck to her leg.  A moment’s inspection revealed the same to be true of her other leg.  A moment more and she discovered it covering, no, coming out of..

	“Oh,” she mouthed.

	She realized what it was and giggled at her foolishness.  After doing -that- with Sidric, she had come straight home and gone to bed without bathing.  The memory prompted her fingers on, searching to see just how far everything spread.

	Pretty far, as it turned out.

	As she lay there, idly peeling at the dried cum, she debated whether or not to go clean herself up.  She could feel it, now that she was paying attention, almost all the way down to her knee on one side.  Sidric is certainly potent, she mused.  That, and the way they had been-

	She blushed at the memory.

	The way he had pulled her up so they were both back straight but still on their knees, pulling her closer to his bare chest and thrusting up, letting her bodyweight bring her back down…  She felt her fingers being drawn to the sides of her womanhood, almost without her ordering them too.  Ishana tried to remember exactly what he had done with his fingers.  The whole episode was a haze, but it had felt so good.

	She drew her fingers up and down on either side of her lips, trying to retrace Sidric’s movements.  Ishana spread the fingers of her right hand as wide as they would go, allowing them to take over both sides as she rubbed.  With her left, she drew her fingers up and over the side, sliding them back down under her bum cheek.  Her insides twitched as the fingers crossed under her and reached up in between her other fingers, fingers that where gaining in speed with each pass.  She felt a drop of moisture drip from her pelvis onto the sheets.

	There would be time to wash in the morning, she thought with but a sliver of her mind.

	Using the memory of how Sidric had teased her so mercilessly as a starting point, she skipped the foreplay and drove two fingers right between her lips and into her vagina.  She gasped as they entered her.  The speed at which she clenched down surprised her, and she struggled a moment to push them deeper inside.  For a moment, she held that position; her fingers plunged deep inside and her right hand still increasing in tempo as they slicked up and down the sides.  With her left hand, she could actually feel the waves of movement coming from those of the right.

	Ishana bit down on her lip as she crooked the two fingers inside her.  Carefully, slowly, gently, she pulled them back down and outside.  The fingers rippled over each delicate fold and drew out a slopping wet glob from inside of her.  She could feel it pooling at her butt, but didn’t care.

	Flicking them inward again, Ishana pulled the fingers of her right hand closer so that they were working on opposite sides of her clitoris alone.  Tired of waiting, she began to flick and pull with her left as quickly as she rubbed with the right.  The movement caused her to lurch forward and she gasped as the smooth silk of her linens brushed against her erect nipples.  She couldn’t recall them becoming so.  Ishana let her body fall forward so she was face down into the pillow.  Carefully to keep up the steady rhythm of her fingers, she pulled her legs close and thrust upwards with her rear.

	She was rocking unconsciously as her fingers rolled in and out of her, their crooked positioning causing them to dig deeply against her.  With each breath, she rocked forward, her breasts slid against the silks, the pleasure building in intensity that it became almost unbearable.  She thought of Sidric behind her, banging his pelvis against her ass as he crammed his throbbing erection deep inside of her over and over again.  She cried out in longing and thrust in with a third finger, desperate to reclaim the sensation of him inside her, and failing.

	Ishana began to whirl the fingers of her right hand around and over her clitoris, sparking the same jolts of pleasure that Sidric had only hours before.  The nerve was exposed and sensitive, only the dripping from between her lips being drawn out by her rapidly thrusting fingers keeping her desperate twirling from being painful.

	Her left hand grazed a bruise on her tummy and she became dimply aware of the dull pain.  Suddenly, she was back in the cart, Sidric pushing down and pinning her against the side rail.  Her head swam with the memory of falling and being held in place by his strong arms locking her against the wooden panels.  His loving then had been frantic, almost violent, and she longed for the feeling of him between her legs again.  She wanted him, badly.

	Ishana’s fingers worked faster than she would have thought possible.  The flicked and rubbed and slid and brushed her and there and everywhere, inside and out.  Her nipples tingled with a glorious pain as the nerves shot jolts of pleasure through her chest and down her spine with each slight movement they made against the silk.  They were so sensitive they felt like needles piercing into her heart.

	She imagined Sidric, with all his animalistic vigor, pressing her against the bed and whispering into her ear, “Ishana…”

	“SIDRIC!” She couldn’t help herself.  Her fingers were pressed as far into her as they could go and were wiggling like they were desperate unto death to escape.  She shrieked as she felt more fingers pinch down on her nerve, sending spasms down her legs and causing them to kick out against the footboard.  The spasms lashed across her body like a thunderstorm.  Her limbs jittered this way and that and her back arched and relaxed in excruciating waves of pleasure.  She thought she could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth, but couldn’t be sure.

	As the orgasm passed and she regained control of her body, she let it come to rest in the deep, warm and slightly moist nest she had created in the folds of blankets.  Her breathing eventually slowed and became regular.  By the time her panting came to a stop, she was feeling her consciousness slip away.

	She was shaken from her reverie by the sound of activity outside her window.  Reluctantly, Ishana half-opened an eyelid and was shocked to see a warm, orange glow pouring through her window.  Still exhausted and barely awake, she let a moan.  Somehow she had let time slip by and it was already morning.  She had let her desires control her actions and would be a tired, miserable wreck all day, the day she was to pass through the Eagle Gate and make her journey to Saphery.

	Begrudgingly, she groped for the side of the bed.  Then a thought stopped her; why hadn’t Kairon awoken her?  Ishana was usually excellent about rising before the sun, but her brother made an art form out of hit.  Usually the sounds and smells of a waiting breakfast drew her into wakefulness and down the stairs.  She tried to block out the racket coming from outside as she pulled on an under robe.  Kairon must have been worse off than he seemed.

	An angry shout from below drew her attention to the window.  Still groggy, she shuffled to have a look.  Somehow, she felt as though she hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

	What she saw outside stifled a coming yawn and cut her breath short.

	Outside, Tren’ac was ablaze with fire.


PART 2

	Ishana stood at the window in shock.  Outside the sky was a roiling mass of flames and smoke.  Even as she watched, a figure with long white hair made for a mad dash from a doorway, only to be skewered by a black-clad elf with a cruelly twisted speartip.  The first figure, a woman, went down with a shriek that sent Ishana’s hairs on end.  The darker figure twisted its weapon out of her still twitching body and left her there to bleed out.  Ishana could swear he was laughing as he jogged off to find another victim.

	Druchii.

	Tren’ac was being raided by the dark kin, Naggarothii pirates.  Memories from her childhood, huddled in a wardrobe clutching her ears and praying to every god she knew for the screams to stop, spiked into her mind like a dagger into the heart.  She began to shiver uncontrollably.

	Swift movement, seen from the corner of her eye, caused her to jump away from the window.  Behind her, the priceless crystal glass was shattered as an object broke through and came to a quivering halt with a solid thud as it hit the back wall.  Ishana glanced over, fearfully, and saw the shaft of a black crossbolt embedded in her wall.

	“H-how?” she asked the world around her.  The town was walled and well patrolled day and night by a tireless cadre of guards.  Any attack should have, at the very least, stalled at the wall; allowing the town to muster to its own defense.  In the worst case scenario, their charioteers would hold off the enemy with hit and run attacks while the civilians escaped.

	How were they inside the town?  Why wasn’t there an alarm?  Why hadn’t she been roused by-

	“Asuryan, NO!”  She remembered Kairon.  He was the lightest sleeper she knew, if he hadn’t awakened and come to her, that could only mean-

	She refused to give it a thought, Kairon wasn’t- Kairon had to be alive, he just had to.  Her fatigue forgotten in a rush of adrenaline, Ishana sprinted back to her bed, careful to duck under the window to avoid oncoming fire.  Kairon was a warrior born, and had trained his sister more than well enough to take care of herself.  At least, she hoped he had.

	Ishana hopped up onto the bed and took down the sword belt, affixing it around her waist.  It felt odd there, so close to her body; but she didn’t have time to put on any armor or even a thicker dress.  After a moment’s hesitation, she took down the shield, as well.  She needed every second available to find Kairon, but she wouldn’t be much good half naked with only a sword to her name.

	She strapped it to her arm and, raising it towards the window just in case, ran to the door.  Ishana threw it open and took the steps down three at a time, yelling out for her brother.  Fires raged outside and cast wicked shadows all across the house, putting into her mind the images of lashing whips and rattling chains.  She pushed the fear away with the best of her ability.  Father had been killed in a raid by the druchii, and he had been a warrior even mightier than Kairon, she remembered.  But not Mother.  Mother, a young mage, fresh from the Tower, had suffered a far worse fate.  Mother had been captured.

	Gulping down her fear, she came to a rest at the bottom of the stairs in a crouch, shield raised.  Looking over the lip, she belatedly realized that taking her helmet, at least, wouldn’t have taken much time at all.  But she couldn’t be distracted by regrets now.  No, she had to find Kairon.

	To her incredulous surprise, she found him where she had left him; hunched over his desk with a blanket over his shoulders.  The very concept that he had not moved, despite everything that was happening, sent shivers down her spine and grew a stone in the back of her throat that fell right down into her heart.

	Gingerly, she padded over to his side.  Pressing close to his face, she breathed a profound sigh of relief to feel his breath on her cheek.  He was still alive.

	“Wake up!” she yelled, shaking his arm.  He didn’t move.  “Kairon. Kairon, please, we have to move.  The druchii are here.  Brother, please.”  Nothing she did seemed to have an effect.  She spotted a flask of wine on a nearby table and poured it over his head.

	That, at least, seemed to do the trick.

	“W-wha?” he croaked.  Even half open, his eyes had a sickly glaze to them.

	“Kairon, it’s a raid. We have to GO.”

	He tried to stand, only to fall to the ground.  Ishana was at his side, trying to gather him up.  Both of them froze when the door started to shake under a series of repeated blows.

	It was muffled, but she could hear voices from outside.  They spoke elven, but had an accent she had never heard before.  It was raspy, with greater emphasis on “s” and “k” sounds.

	“I say you missed, she’s still in there,” said a voice.

	“And I say she fell back with my bolt in her neck,” said a second.

	“Hells, just get in there,” said a third, much deeper voice.  It had a hard edge to it, demanding obedience and threatening pain with every breath.  “Now.”

	The banging intensified.  Ishana dropped her shield and pulled her brother up with both arms.  She dragged him, slowly, towards the back door. Their only hope was to find some guards, or other shelter.  Altazar’s tower, the home of her master, was nearby.  They would try to reach it.

	“Windows, fools, windows,” said the third voice.  It sounded disgusted now.  Moments later and the front windows were shattering.

	Unable to resist, Ishana turned back and looked directly into the face of the raider.  He was tall, taller than Kairon, and had a scaly cloak thrown casually over his slender shoulders.  His hair, black as night, fell out from the sides of his ornate helmet.  As the raider put one leg through the window, he caught sight of Ishana and her brother.  She cringed back at the sight of his leering smile and cold, hungry eyes, but stood up and drew her sword.  She knew she was shaking.

	Seeing her frail defiance, he threw back his head and laughed.  The chilling sound forced Ishana back a step.  Then the raider lurched the rest of the way through the window, falling face first onto the ground.  There was a white-hafted spear embedded in his back.

	Just past the window, Ishana could see the other two figures turn with all the speed and predatory grace their kind could muster.  One went down, hard and fast, as a slender blade, glowing a deep gold in the firelight, slashed into its side.  The figures moved out of view, but she could hear the clash and clang of blades meeting in anger.  She saw sparks dance across the window on more than one occasion.  Then it was quite.
She gathered up her shield and stood guard over her brother’s prone form.  A shadowed figure crossed past the window, then moved closer.  She tightened her grip on the sword and crouched lower.

	“Captain Starspear?”

	“He’s here,” she said, after a moment’s pause.

	“Is that you, Ishana?” said the voice, clearly relieved.  She couldn’t make out who it was, but it sounded like one of her brother’s soldiers.  “I’m coming it, okay?”

	“Slowly,” she ordered, staying in position.

	The figure, now clearly a guard clad in the silvered chainmail of a Tren’ac soldier, fumbled his way inside.  Sure of his identity, she rushed over and helped him through.  The elf grimaced as she touched his side, and as her hand came away red she knew he was injured.

	He shooed her away before she could say anything, then moved over to Kairon.  He was sleeping again.

	“Is he?”

	“No!” she yelled.  “I mean, no, he’s just sleeping.  I don’t know what’s wrong with him…”

	“Damnation, him too?” said the elf, weary as though the weight of the world had come crushing down upon him all at once.

	“’Too?’” she asked.  “What do you mean, ‘too?’”

	“It’s something, something we haven’t seen before.  Half the guards on duty started to lurch over, complaining of stomach pains, then just fell asleep.  The rest of us were trying to wake them, but then they were upon us,” the elf’s eyes started to glaze as the realization sunk it.  “Blood, there was blood everywhere.  Stabbing and screaming and that infernal laughter.  The bastards were enjoying it…”  Now that she had a proper look at him, the guard was hardly older than herself.  He looks like he was about to start crying.

	“Soldier,” she said, searching for a name.  “Eltar, right?”

	“Y-yes,” he replied after a moment of confusion.

	“Eltar,” she spoke slowly and clearly so he would follow her words (something Kairon had taught her yearsago).  “Eltar, we need to get to Altazar’s tower.  He’ll know what to do.”

	“Y- yes, yes my lady.”

	Each took one of Kairon’s arms and together they dragged him to the back door.  Ishana opened it carefully, peering out to see if anyone, or anything, was waiting for them.  The coast seemed clear, so the three made their way into the street, sticking to the shadows.  From the corner of her eye, Ishana could see several bodies lying prone in front of her house.  Eltar had not come alone, it seemed; but the raiders had put up a damn hard fight before being brought down.  He was the only one left.

	Once or twice Kairon started to come too, but then passed out again.  A group of druchii raiders, these ones armed with spears and shields, marched by in close order, but the three High Elves managed to hide behind a smoldering stall just in time.

	They passed into another street and suddenly the fires were more distant and the sound of fighting less distinct.  Here, nearer the center of town, it appeared the raiders hadn’t managed to get a foothold. At least, not yet.

	Soon, Ishana guided them to the doorstep of Altazar, chief (and only) mage of the town of Tren’ac and Ishana’s master.  The door, to her horror, was ajar.  It swung there, limply, on its hinges.  The sight made Ishana’s eyes water, and the same stone in her throat was starting to grow again.

	Chocking it down, she shrugged Kairon into Eltar’s care and drew her sword again.  She half-hoped Eltar would offer to go in first instead, but he seemed more than keen just to follow orders.  Ishana edged the door open with the blade, then eased her way inside.

	Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden and unwanted.  In the hazy light of a smoldering candle, she could see her master’s ancient body slumped up against the side of his chair.  His arm, so thin and frail it seemed to her now, was stretched out towards the door, as if he was clawing to escape something.  He was all but swimming in a thick pool of his own blood.

	But it was the face; the face was the worst thing.  His lips were drawn back into a panicked, rictus grin, showing too many teeth.  The eyes, blank and doll-like now, where wide open.  Streaks of red down the sides of his pale face betrayed his tears.

	Ishana fell to her knees and began to weep.  Behind her, Eltar dragged her brother inside, took one look at the dead mage, a second at the sad form of Ishana, then made to lock the door.
Movement back in the room brought him spinning around and drawing his blade in one quick movement.  Ishana, too, was startled by the movement and rose as quickly as she could.  Both armed, the guard and the apprentice mage scanned the gloom.

	“Ishana?” asked a familiar, incredulous voice.

	She and Eltar tensed, confused.

	A figure detached from the shadows and into the light.  Though clad in a dark cloak, his face was clearly visible.

	“Sidric!” she yelled, running into his arms.  In the heat of the moment, the adrenaline, and the fear for Kairon, Ishana had actually forgotten about him.  The shame of it burned from her eyes and down her cheeks.  She sobbed into his chest, grateful for his arms around her.  He patted her back and shushed her, kindly.

	“What are you doing here?”

	“We came to find Altazar,” she said.  Ishana started as a hand grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her back.  She looked at Eltar quizzically, realizing that he had been the one to ask the question.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

	Ignoring her, Eltar continued to pull Ishana away from Sidric.  “I asked you a question,” he said.

	Ishana could see the hurt in Sidric’s eyes at being questioned like this.  He was a traveling merchant, and only after years of faithful and kindly acts had Tren’ac finally accepted him.  Now that there was a crisis, the façade of trust was torn away and he was once again just some stranger.

	“Eltar,” she said, trying to calm the guard.  “He’s a friend.”

	“Who we find in a room with a murdered mage,” he said simply.  He pointed the sword at Sidric’s chest.  “Answer. My. Question.”

	The merchant looked from one to the other sadly.  He sighed.  “I couldn’t find Ishana at her home, so I came here.  It’s where she would go.”  Sidric glanced over to the dead body and put a hand over his mouth, “I- I just got here and found, and found him like this.  I heard the door open, so I hid.”  He looked form one to other again, pleadingly, “I thought you were more raiders…”

	“See,” Ishana said to Eltar.  “He’s just-“

	“We came straight from the Starspear household,” said Eltar, less sure of himself now.  “If you checked for her there first, how did you beat us here?”

	“That’s simple,” he said.  Then something behind them seemed to catch his attention.  They could both see his eyes grow wide with shock.

	Ishana and Eltar turned around and brought their swords to bear, aiming for the still open doorway.  There was nothing there.

	“Sidric,” she said, confused now, “what do you see?”  She half turned, only to drop her blade as she leaned forward to catch Eltar.  The young elf had fallen over without a sound.  Frantic, she pulled him away from the door and started to pat down his body, looking for the crossbolt she knew had to be there.  Her hand grazed the back of his neck and came back wet.  Looking closer, she could see a clean, surgically precise hole separating his vertebrae.

	“W- what just happened?” she asked, turning to Sidric for some sort of solace.

	The merchant was lazily drawing a dagger across the upholstery of Altazar’s favorite chair, carefully cleaning blood from the blade.  He shrugged at her, gesturing towards the dead elf in her arms.

	“He was pretty clever, wasn’t he?” the elf said simply.

	“Sidric… what in the name of Asuryan did you do?”  She could hardly get the words out.

	“I stabbed him in the neck.  After all these years, it still amazed me how that simple trick works every time.”  The same look of panicked surprise and widening eyes flashed across his face, before being replaced by a friendly grin.  “I’m a bit surprised to see you here, my lady.”

	“S- Sidric, you killed him!”

	“Him and many others, my lady,” he said, chuckling as he finished.  “All in a night’s work.”

	“What are you talking about?!” she screamed.

	Pain exploded into the front of her face as he kicked out, the ball of his foot catching her right in the nose.  The cartilage broke with little resistance and blood streamed from the wound as she clawed at her face, rolling on the ground.  Weeping again, she began to choke.

	“Oh no you don’t,” said Sidric, standing over her.  He reached down and pulled her up by the scruff of the neck.  He tilted her head from one side to the other.  “A clean break,” he said.  Grabbing her by the back of the head with one hand, he gripped her nose with the other.  “This will hurt,” he told her before pinching the pieces back together with a quick jerk.

	“Bud, why?” she gasped through her sobs.

	“Because, after a decade pretending to be a kindly, stupid merchant I think I’m entitled to a little indulgence,” he said.  “Or do you mean the killing?  That’s simple: it’s my job.  My dear brother concocted this little plan and even paid the Temple of Khaine for my services for the whole duration.”  Through the tears in her eyes, she could just make out his melancholy smirk, as if remembering a favored moment from his childhood.  “Expensive as all hell, I’m sure you understand, but well worth the price to clean out a dozen towns and forts at once.  The Witch King will be very pleased with my dear brother.”

	“W-whud ahr ooo-“

	“Saying?” he finished.  “My lady, I hadn’t figured you to be quite this naïve.”  He shrugged and let her fall to the floor.  “Still, enough talking for now.  All this bloodshed had given me an erection you wouldn’t believe, and you, my lady, are going to help me relieve the tension.”

	Through her haze pain and tears, she almost didn’t understand what he was saying.  Then she saw him start to undo his belt, and caught sight of the bulge in his trousers.

	“N-no,” she said, trying to crawl away backwards.  Her hands caught on something and she fell.  Pulling herself around, she saw that she was now lying across Kairon.  She grabbed his collar and shook him violently, begging him with all her might to wake up.

	“Sorry, my lady,” said Sidric, “but he won’t be up for another day, at least.”  She turned around and looked up in horror; the elf she thought was her friend had removed his trousers, and was standing above her with his cock in hand.  “Anyone that ate one of my apples will be out for a long, long time.”

	She tried to turn away once more and pull away, but his hand shot out like a claw and twisted her head towards him.  Without a pause he shoved her mouth against his penis and started to rub it against her face.  Ishana tried to clench her mouth shut, but he merely lowered his hand to her neck and gave it a pinch.  Pain jolted through her body and she opened her mouth to scream.

	He thrust foreword and pulled her in simultaneously.  The head of his cock banged painfully against the back of her throat.  Her whole world became the revolting taste in her mouth.  Salty with sweat, it had a sort of tang to it.  With a horrible shudder that took to her whole body, she realized it was probably herself from earlier that day.  She remember comforting herself to that memory only minutes before, and broke into a cold sweat as a sickly ice poured into her veins and pooled in her heart.

	A thrust, deeper than the others, caught her in the back of the throat and started her chocking.  Any deeper and her gag reflex would-

	Before the thought could form, another blow pounded it out of her.  He was rocking his hips forward even as he pushed and pulled her head back and forth.  Ishana’s tongue wriggled, trying to get out of the way, as she felt his veins pulse with each beat of his heart and each twitch running down his penis.  She tried beating her hands against his chest and hips, but he simply ignored her and kept up his rhythm.

	With her mind going blank, trying to keep breathing by gasping in a gulp of air each time he pulled back, a single thought sprang into her mind.  She tenses as best she could; opening her mouth wide, and prepared to bite down.  Sensing the motion, Sidric pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop.  Drool dribbled down from his shaft onto the ground, a strand or two still connected it to her lips.  Ishana coughed and tried to choke up the saliva in her mouth.  The very taste of it was foul.

	Sidric grabbed up a tuft of her hair and yanked it painfully.  He wrenched her head to the side and forced her to look down.  Ishana’s gaze followed the length of his bare leg, down his knee, and to his foot.  She began to sob pitifully.

	Sidric was pressing his heel against Kairon’s throat.  The poor bastard wasn’t even aware enough to struggle.

	“Do we have an understanding, my lady?” he asked, grinning like a petty child after winning a bet.  He barely gave her the chance to nod before pulling her over to his member once more.  “Good,” he said.  “Now lick.”

	She inched her hand upwards and took the shaft in her palm.  Ishana gave it a bit of a squeeze, glancing down at her brother’s throat, and then began to gently pump it up and down.  He began to stroke the back of her head, then pushed her forward so she swallowed him again.  She resisted enough to keep the head over her tongue by holding on to the shaft with her hand.  To forestall him pumping into her face, she began to whirl her tongue over and around the head of his dick.

	Bobbing her head up and down while jerking his shaft and licking all around the base of his head, she put all her effort into making him cum as quickly as possible.  She could feel his urethra begin to spasm and redoubled her pace, trying desperately to end the torment.  If she could just distract him long enough for another guard or two to pass by…

	Ishana’s eyes began to water as dizziness set into her mind.  It was getting more difficult to keep thoughts straight.  She bobbed down too far and accidently struck her tender nose while beating him with her hand.  The pain forced her back, and she was surprised that he let he stop and catch her breath.  After a few moments, her head began to clear.

	With a lurch she realized that he had planned for this as well.  To prolong his own pleasure, he had broken her nose to force her to stop periodically to catch her breath or risk passing out (and who knows what he would do, then).  She glared up at him with as much hate and bile as she could muster.  He simply started to laugh.  Then he slapped her across the face.

	“Keep going,” he ordered.

	And so she did.  She licked the base of his penis to the head in a long, steady motion.  She cradled his balls in one hand and pumped up and down his shaft with the other.  She took him all the way into her mouth and nearly chocked each time he bucked forward.  She pressed forward so hard that her gag reflex was triggered and she began to choke up, but nothing came out.  She used every trick and tip she had ever tried or heard rumored, and finally it happened.

	Grabbing her head with both hands he pulled her down towards his pelvis, hitting the back of her throat and causing her to frantically pull back out of pain and fear, but he held her steady.  Rocking up and down, slowly, she felt the twitching with her lips, then felt it move faster and faster up his shaft with her tongue.  Ishana tried her best to relax, but panicked and closed off her airway as he came.  The force of each splurt sent waves of semen into the back of her mouth and back up and out the front.  Blood and white goo congealed together as it forced its way up into her nasal passage and out her nose.  The pain almost caused her to pass out.

	Beating against his arms and chest with weak, futile blows, she gasped in relief when he finished and eased himself out of her mouth.  Globs of white, sticky cum poured out of her mouth and down her chin as she coughed and spit it out.  Her eyes were raw from the ceaseless tears.  She began to hiccup.

	“Not bad, my lady,” he said.  “But not that good, either.  We’ll remedy that, in time.”  He gave her an appraising look.  “But for now, I’m not done with you.”

	She gathered her thoughts together and opened her eyes.  She could see that he was right, even after all of that he was still as hard and erect as ever.  Ishana began to sob.

	“Pleed,” she said.  “Pleed, thtop dis.”

	For a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of the Sidric she knew in those cold eyes.  He leaned down and met her on the ground, gently placing his hand upon her cheek.

	“No,” was all he said as he pushed her down.

	The casual night robe Ishana was wearing had come undone in the struggle, or during the fellatio.  Her petite breasts shone with the dull reflection of light against the sweat on her chest.  Sidric pushed aside her leg and leaned her back against… against her brother.  She realized with a start that he was going to fuck her on top of Kairon.  The cruelty, the pettiness, made her tremble in rage as he positioned the tip of his dick against her lips.

	“What in the…” he looked down with one eyebrow cocked.  “I don’t believe it, you’re wet!”

	His words cut into her like a knife.  “Whud?”

	Sidric slapped a hand in between her legs and whipped it upwards, wiping it off against the side of her face.  The moist goo cooled on her cheek.

	“What kind of whore get’s this wet when she’s being raped?” he asked, struggling to keep the words flowing as he chuckled in glee.

	“Dno, dno, dats fum afor!” she protested.  It was true.  It had to be true.  It hadn’t been that long since she had pleasured herself in the comfort of her own room.  The raid had taken her by surprise right after she had finished.  She just hadn’t dried out yet.  It had to be true.

	“Whore.  You fucking whore.  I can’t believe I called you a lady,” he was laughing so hard that tears were gathering in his eyes.  He wiped them away and then pushed her down against her brother’s prone body.  “Never again, whore.  You’re no lady.”

	The light from the candles behind her and the fires burning beyond caste flickering shadows against the ceiling.  From where she lay, it looked like a dozen daemonic imps were jeering and leering and watching the whole show.  She prayed for it all to end, for something, anything to stop this.  The laughter above her pounded down into her brain like a hammer on a dwarven forge.  She prayed for his death, she prayed for her own death.  She prayed that she had never been born.

	A gust of wind blew out the candle and slammed the door shut.  As the darkness crept in around them, banishing the ghoulish shadows to oblivion, he entered her; thrusting hard and fast and catching her by complete surprise.

	Sidric leaned forward, firmly grasping Ishana by the neck and squeezing just hard enough to keep her from moving.  He had her back arced over the recumbent Kairon and was bucking up into her.  Their bodies only met at his hand on her throat and at their sexes.  Sidric panted between chuckles as he pushed into her from below.  All Ishana could sense was the aching heat, rapidly moving in and out of her, and the oppressive weight of pain covering her face.  Her broken nose had swelled to the point where she could hardly see.

	Ishana thought she was crying, but couldn’t be sure.  Sidric was gradually pinching at her throat harder and harder; between the pain and growing light-headedness, she could feel a darkness reaching out for her.  She could feel her body relax as sensations began to dull.

	She snapped back to awareness as her left breast exploded in pain.  Ishana gulped deeply at the warm air and dimly realized Sidric had removed his hand.  The pain, almost dead center on her breast, felt like a pincer or claw trying to pull it off.  She could feel a smooth, slimy wetness flick back and forth over her nipple; in its sensitive state, this was almost painful as well.  Sidric, it was Sidric.  He was biting her.

	“I’m not done yet, whore,” he said.  “If you want this to end, you need to tighten up that cunt.”

	Everything down below felt numb to her, only his bucking body pushing against hers even let her know he was still going.

	“Guess I’ll have to help you, then.”  He reached down and pinched her other nipple, twisting it hard.  Ishana tensed and tried to pull away.  “Yes, that’s better.  I think we’re on to something.”

	Sidric pulled her closer to himself and started to pound up against the top wall of her vagina.  He hit her in just the right spot for her to feel it over the burning numbness.  She squeaked.

	Laughing again, he grabbed her by the hips and kept ramming up into that spot.  Ishana tried to kick out but couldn’t muster the strength.  Sidric simply caught her leg and drew it over his shoulder.  Now she was on her side, front facing Kairon’s head and her back facing his feet.  Sidric’s hand squeezed into the meat of her thigh, his nails biting in hard.  She had to prop herself up on an elbow to keep her head from flailing around as he increased his speed.

	Sidric’s free hand slid across her body; groping, pinching, scratching all over her pale skin.  It seemed like each time he thrust into her his hand was somewhere else.  Here it was pulling up on a nipple.  There it was tugging her head over so he could look at her face.  Now it was clawing down her spine with sharp nails.  For a moment he kept slapping above the point he entered her, or pulled at her labia to move it away, allowing him to get closer.

	Ishana felt his bare hand slid from between her legs and pass up her belly.  She cringed as he passed up her ribs and squeezed down on each breast in turn, they were still raw from when he bit her.  She remembered how much she had enjoyed his exploring hands not half a day ago and began to sob; only then realizing that she had stopped out of sheer exhaustion.

	His hand kept gliding across her body, passing to her back again.  This time he gently traced the scratches he made down her spine.  He slowed the relentless pumping of his erection into her flesh.  It was so hot down there, she felt as though it must be giving off steam.  Sidric’s hand stopped, briefly, at the base of her spine, before gathering up a handful of her callipygian buttock.  The druchii bounced it up and down like a butcher weighing a fine haunch for the cleaver.  She remembered his skill with a dagger and began to shudder.

	Then his thumb began to stroke her inner cheek, incrementally going deeper and deeper with each pass.  Her sphincter puckered reflexively and she flinched away.  Sidric’s grip on her leg grew tighter and he began to hump faster again.

	Ishana felt his nail trace over the lines of her anus, so gently it almost tickled.  The ridiculousness of the sensation in her present state brought on a fit of hysteric laughter from deep in her chest.  She tried to claw away from him as tears streamed down the sides of her face.  Distantly, she knew her eyes would be raw and sensitive for days.

	Sidric’s hold was too strong, and her desperate clawing only served to bang up her elbows and put a kink in her back where he kept it from bending.  With a loud THWACK he slapped her on the ass with the flat of his hand.  She yelped in pain and surprise, only for him to give her three or four more whacks.  Ishana’s cheeks tingled with a stinging pain, brought on afresh as a cool gust of wind drafted across her skin.

	Barely pausing, Sidric returned to his groping; squeezing her left cheek and enjoying its twitching heat between his fingers.  He flicked his thumb down towards her introitus, lathering it up in the juices being sucked out of her each time he drew back with his cock.  Before she could understand what he was doing, Sidric slid his thumb right into her anus.  It went in with little resistance, making a slight slurping gulp as it entered.

	He wriggled it around a bit and it seemed his laughter, wickedly amused and self satisfied, seemed to fill the room.  Ishana was getting light headed and dizzy again; she almost couldn’t make out where he was.  Her whole body contorted, or tried too, as he slipped his thumb in and out of her anus, rubbing it in circles around inside of her.

	“Just getting a good grip,” he told her before shifting forward and digging in even harder with his thrusting.  She tried to shut out the noises of her body, but they were too loud.  Each cycle of entering and withdrawing elicited a wet slurp that seemed to grow louder each time.  His wriggling thumb kept pushing against different walls or flicking out with a pop.  The movements were so erratic and pronounced that she started to lose track of which way she was being held as she followed each exploratory jab and twitch.  And then there was his laughter, still filling the room.

	Eventually his pace slowed once more.  He began to jerk forward with harder, more deliberate thrusts, his hold on her thigh and in her ass both tightened.  She knew what was climaxing, and tried to squeeze down like he wanted so it would all be over.  Ishana was so sore, it wasn’t until his cum was tickling its way down her rear and dripping onto the ground that she could give out a gasp of relief, hoping against hope that it was done.  He pulled out completely and let her leg drop.  Ishana curled up into a ball as best she could.  She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come.

	“Mind if we have a go now?” asked an unfamiliar voice in that nasty, arrogant accent she first heard outside her window.  Fear knotted in her stomach and she curled into herself even tighter.

	“Actually,” said Sidric, “I do.”  Her relief was so overwhelming that her breathing took on a panicky, erratic rhythm somewhere between laughter, sobbing, and choking.  “She’s a whore, but for now…”  She felt his finger brush her cheek, irritating her tear-raw skin.  Somehow she knew he had brought the wetness up to his mouth for a taste.  “For now she’s my whore.”

	Someone sparked a lantern and the brightness forced her eyes closed.  She had caught a glimpse of several hunched figures surrounding her.  So they had been watched, she thought to herself.  Somehow, she couldn’t summon the simple emotion of embarrassment or even hate.  It was too hard to care.
	“Take her to my cabin,” Sidric ordered.  “And bring the other one to my brother; he seems like Sargitar’s type.”
	Ishana felt mailed hands grab at her arms and legs.  Under her, Kairon was being pulled away.  They had been captured.  Both of them.  Kairon would suffer like Mother had suffered; he wouldn’t even get the honorable death on the battlefield he deserved.

	Now, now she cared.

	With a shriek she started to kick out in every direction.  The ferocity of her outburst actually caused them to drop her.  She groped blindly for her brother and gripped his robe with all of her strength.

	They were doomed, that was a certainty.  She had no means to save them, or even just him.  But there was something, one thing she could do.  She could spare them the torment of Naggaroth and the depredations of Malekith’s reavers.

	Ishana let her shame and rage and fear and pain boil inside of her.  She fed it her despair, lost hopes, and fathomless sense of betrayal.  With a shriek that everyone in the room could feel down to their bones she called the Winds to her.  It didn’t matter which, she called ALL of them.  Death, Light, Life, Fire; ALL of them.  Her aching muscles were soothed, then enflamed with an unnatural vigor.  The Winds poured into the roiling mass of rage and despair in the pit of her stomach.  She let the pot boil over and forced the overspill out through her burning nerves and into the air.  Somewhere, in the background of her awareness, she knew the druchii were cringing back from her.

	She drew in a deep breath, preparing for a final push to unleash the energies building up inside of her.  Then a pressure slammed against her back, pressing her against Kairon’s chest, and expelled the air before she could even draw it in.  The force of the blow caused her eyes to wrench shut.  She bit down on her lip, tasting blood.
	Inside her, the magics and emotions were growing even more erratic.  Ishana knew that nothing could stop it now; the buildup would tear her to shreds and rip apart everyone nearby.  She and Kairon would be spared the horrors of the cold north, and would take a few of their mortal foes with them.

	Then there was a deadpan snap and everything was quiet. Ishana couldn’t breathe, something was constricting around her neck like a python.  Sounds were muted, everything was dark, and inside her was only emptiness.  She beat her head against her brother’s chest, desperate to recall the power.  It wouldn’t come.

	“There, there,” said a voice in the distance.  After a moment she recognized it as Sidric’s.  “No need to throw a tantrum, little whore.  I haven’t forgotten your present.”

	She clawed out into the darkness with a limp hand.  Her fingers reached her neck and there found a sharp, cold piece of metal.  They traced along its outer rim and found it linked to several other pieces, all identical and linked by minute, spiked chains.  A torc, of some kind.  It was tight, too tight, and she gasped for breath.

	“I did promise you a necklace, didn’t I?”  Sidric’s voice took on an amused, taunting air.  “Sure, you might find it… difficult to feel those Winds of yours while wearing it, but I assure you it is quite lovely.”

	She tried feebly to pull it off, knowing it wouldn’t help.  Everything was so heavy, nothing made sense.  Hands reached out for her again and she failed to so much as flinch.  She was tired.  More tired than she had thought possible.

“Take them to the ship,” was the last thing she heard before drifting away into a dreamless sleep.