Authors: Multiple
Chapter 8
The
Seer’s arrival took longer than anticipated. It was a week of anxious waiting,
though during it Mirella had managed to grow closer with one of the
guard-concubines. Svella, as she came to learn her name, was a tall, voluptuous
woman that looked fearsome at most times. Even with her bare belly swollen,
pregnancy having sunk its teeth into her rather fully, she looked like nobody
to trifle with.
In some
ways she was similar to Mirella herself; her devotion was no less true to the
God-King, though it was not like hers. Nobodies could be, she determined.
Sat
with her legs crossed, the pale Svella, with her dark hair braided down around
her shoulder, dressed only in boots and loincloth, told her tales of the north.
“Our people once rode the fields of the south, many long ages ago. We were
strong and rich. Now,” she shrugged her strong shoulders, “it is that which
taunts us. Boils in the veins of so many Ka’reem. That we sat in weak hovels in
the north, cold and hungry, while the little straw-necks lived large.”
Mirella
was dressed in a casual strip of material that just barely hid her engorged
breasts and showed off her large ass as it pressed against one of the pillows.
“No one could blame that,” she agreed, her forced casualness obvious, even to a
less observant woman than Svella. She braided her hair against her shoulder,
undoing the twists and redoing them, just to keep from fidgeting more
obviously. “Once your numbers grow, you’ll be a force to reckon with once
more.”
With a
haughty laugh the large woman gave her a look over that Mirella could’ve taken
as open hostility if she hadn’t gotten to know the woman over the past months.
“We already are. The God-King has taught us we are greater than any other
force,” she stated with full certainty. “He brought to our fighters the cunning
we lacked. Now we are unstoppable,” she stated with a broad smile that showed
her conviction.
Therein
lay the difference between the two women. Svella was absolutely dedicated to
her lord, but only because she saw him as the saviour of her people. The
embodiment of her people.
Mirella
smiled, her lips quirked so pleasantly as she observed the other woman. By
rights she should see her as competition, but both were swollen and both served
their god in their own ways. She was as close to a friend as she could manage
in this place, and she accepted it willingly. She was a damn spot brighter than
the Princess, anyway. Besides, Svella never held it against her that she’d
supplanted her as the God-King’s favourite.
“Well,
then, imagine when your numbers do swell. It’ll be overkill and then some,” she
teased, looking quite excited for the prospect.
It was
strange. The numbers of the concubines never decreased, but almost none of them
were familiar to Mirella now. Aside from the Ka’reem guards, she was the only
woman allowed to stay on after it became apparent she was pregnant. The others
got their ‘freedom’, or whatever it was that happened to them once taken away,
the moment they showed signs of pregnancy.
Mirella
was blessed. And the guards had come to accept she was special as well, albeit
begrudgingly in most cases.
The new
women from the city were always the same; beautiful, young, frightened. Their
numbers always restocked, and Mirella had a hand in each of their deflowerings.
“I
confess,” Svella began, “I was jealous of you at first. You have the God-King’s
eyes,” she made a symbol over her chest and downcast her eyes at the mention of
His Majesty. “But you serve him better in such manners than I have or could,”
she stated with a sort of professional understanding. It was all duty for her.
“You
have other things to focus on. I have him, fully and utterly. We both serve, in
our own ways.” Mirella left it unspoken that her way was better, of course,
though no woman could blame her for thinking it. “But thank you,” she smiled at
the other woman, her eyes scanning over her with a kind reverence. “He deserves
to rule this land.”
For
Svella the notion of the God-King as a man and as an embodiment of a whole
people was a dichotomy integral to her faith, but something she barely
understood. All the same, she nodded and gave a light smile. They were so
different, despite their unifying cause.
The
moment was interrupted, however, by the sound of great horns and clamouring
feet. There was commotion going on in the courtyard outside, but the horns and
the sound of marching feet were definitely from the city proper below.
Svella
stood up, “The Seer,” she said, eyes wide, her voice full of awe and reverence.
She’d gleaned little of the mystical Seer so far, not that the guards didn’t
want to talk about her, they did! But they held her in almost as much reverence
as the God-King himself, and when in a group were always afraid to speak of her
at any length for fear of embarrassment.
Moving
to the tent flap she pulled it open, shameless about her near nudity. Mirella
had not been confined to the tent for some time, or at least, she didn’t
suppose so. Though she had contented herself with her Master’s will, coming at
his whim or staying otherwise. When everything she could want was provided to
her where she was, she had little reason to wander off.
She
didn’t bother fretting about her outfit—or lack of one—and simply
rose. He had enjoyed her brazenness, but she had no real understanding if this
woman would. She knew it was important and dared not to disappoint, so her back
straightened and she mustered all the courage she could as she slipped past the
tent’s entrance, standing outside in the glaring natural light. Her body was on
display with her large, pregnant breasts spilling forth from the two strips of
fabric that hid little more than her nipples, the dark areolas visible.
No
other concubine but her or the guards could have wandered off like that, but
the two went to the walls of the palace courtyard and climbed the stairs. The
few men who were still there moved away, giving them a wide berth. Though both
were obviously pregnant with the God-King’s children, and they could not have
supplanted that seed, there was still a tremendous taboo on being anywhere near
his chosen women.
Leaning
upon the intricately carved walls, Svella looked out over the city below. The
winding roadway that curled up the hillside through the buildings towards the
palace was designed for defence. It meant a party such as the grand procession
approaching the cities gates would take almost an hour to reach them.
“There
she is,” uttered Svella with awe in her voice, eyes wide with shimmering
marvel.
She
didn’t feel the same awe, though she wondered if she should. The mother of a
god... She wondered at that frequently over the course of the week, but still
her mind hadn’t wrapped around it. The man—the god—she knew had no
need for such things. She still had issues coming to terms with it, and as her
stomach pressed against the cold stone she was transported, just for a moment,
back to the garden.
She
shivered as she looked towards Svella’s gaze, trying to capture that same look
of respect on her face.
“How
should I address her? What is she like?” Mirella murmured, moving instinctively
closer to the other woman.
Svella
could not tear her gaze away from the procession below. For the Ka’reem it was
one of majesty and pomp, which as a people they were not fond of.
Large
banners flew in the air, streaming in the winds from the north. It was hard to
see them clearly from there, but Svella handed her an eye piece looted from the
palace. “You do not address her,” she stated in a subdued voice. “The Seer is
no longer a woman... she is beyond us now,” she explained.
Peering
through the monocular she saw the guards, they were women, like the concubines.
But they wore heavy armour, long cloaks of shimmering black flowed behind them,
and the full face masks and helmets made them look like hideous, beaked
monsters. She saw nothing of the seer however, for she must have rode in the
palanquin at the heart of the procession, shielded from sight by silks.
Not a
woman? The intrigue was getting to her as she stared over the procession,
feeling suddenly so naked and vulnerable. It wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed
outside of the bedroom—or the garden, or the throne room—and she
looked back to Svella, “What do they think of us?”
With a
shrug of her shoulders Svella leaned on the parapet further. “It has been many
generations since we have had a seer whom could pass on her foresight to the
people. I have been in her presence, have performed ritual. But never has she
spoken of or to me, if that is what you mean.” She looked directly at Mirella,
“Many women would kill you if they knew you were about to see her. Even in
defiance of the God-King,” she paid the deferment, “to keep our secrets safe.”
“Oh.”
Well that was reassuring. She handed back the looking glass and her skin
prickled with nervousness. “We should await them?” she asked, more than said.
She was usually so calm and in control, but in this, she was looking to her
lone ally.
Placing
a hand reassuringly upon her shoulder, Svella gave her a reassuring smile, “Do
not fret. If the God-King wishes it, it is for the best.” She could not doubt
the large woman’s faith in her lord.
She
smiled up at that woman so warmly, and felt real affection for her then. It was
a beautiful moment, at least for her, and she kept close to her side. “The
other girls don’t realize how lucky they are. I wish we could show them.”
Svella
turned her gaze and quickly downcast her eyes. “If only we could,” she said,
and then nudged the other woman to look around. “Though some are more fortunate
than others,” she stated as she showed Mirella sight of the God-King himself,
arrayed in his usual attire, with gloves and raven-helm on, which made him look
more terrifying. “He wishes you to go to him.”
She
swallowed and squeezed the woman’s hand before her bare feet guided her to him
so readily. Despite it all, she had faith in his judgement. If the woman found
her to be unworthy... she pushed the thought from her mind. She’d deal with
that when the time came, and drew her shoulders back confidently.
Accepting
her by his side, he waited stoically. It was a strange moment, to see the
mighty man so quieted around her, but then she’d gotten use to her private
moments with him, where he was more and more unleashed with her. His passions
having become inflamed for the woman to remarkable heights.
Waiting
for the procession to arrive, the horns grew louder, and when finally the
guards came through the palace gates she saw their glittering black cloaks were
made of raven’s feathers. The banners fluttered above with a base of black,
showing a depiction of a weeping bloodshot eye at its center.
Everyone
was quiet but for the approaching group, and around her all the northern
Ka’reem had their fists to their chests in salute, with their heads bowed
quietly. The God-King’s only response, however, was to turn and head into the
palace itself, leaving her no choice but to follow.
Inside
she saw the windows were shuttered, their stained glass blocked out and all the
fires and people emptied, leaving only small candle flames to light the way.
The guards continued their march until they had carried the palanquin inside,
resting the ornate, shamanistic looking mobile-hut into the center of the
chamber.
Then,
with a clap of metal garbed fists to chain mail vests—a thunderous noise
that reverberated through the halls and left the chamber quaking—the
guards turned and exited, leaving only the two. And the quiet Seer’s cloth and
hide residence.
Mirella
barely breathed, stood so near to him and in such a strangely unsexual manner,
despite the fact that she wore bare strips of fabric that clung to her pregnant
form. She was half a pace behind him and to his side, deferential to him as her
green eyes remained on the tent.
Seemingly
tired of waiting, he pulled back his helm and stepped forward, “Mother,” he
called forth, and the tent seemed to stir at last.
From
out of the tent-like structure Mirella heard the first sounds of life. It was
like a giggle taken by madness, drifting from out of some crack in the void. It
made her skin crawl and she wanted to cower like all those women that fled in
terror from the God-King.
Pulling
open the front of the tent she saw her at last. It was not what she expected.
The
woman inside, dressed in crimson robes that looked dyed in blood sat in a heap.
She looked... off, that was all she could say.
Unlike
her son, she shared the pale skin of the Ka’reem. Paler still than most of
them. Her long hair was white and draped about her shoulders. In fact all
colour seemed seeped from her entirely, and she looked limp, almost lifeless,
swaying slightly as she sat. Though she was alive. And more than that, even in
her condition, so obviously ill, or semi-conscious at best, she had a certain
beauty about her. She might have been twice Mirella’s age, and her features
looked delicate in spite of her height. Even then, with her hair white, her
skin so pale, and age having taken its toll, she was beautiful.
“Mother,”
he called to her again, pulling back the thick flap further as he sounded more
impatient. “It’s me,” he said, those last two words sounding so kind and
familiar, in a way she rarely heard him speak.