Black Knight_Awakening [Part One]

by Gilliland, Christian

  "A third demon has arrived." He said, navigating his near invisible swarm of microscopic machines through the air. "The third and most powerful of his kind. The girl, myself and now the boy."

  His voice was no louder than a thought, his mind naught more than a program running in a rogue cluster of nanomachines that he had designed centuries before to contain his conscience in the event of his death. He as he was, was without form and fully self sufficient, timeless... immortal.

  His host, his vessel, a former soldier turned miner who had the brute strength but not the focus to carry out his former martial duties, weakened and burdened him. In the century or so that he had been free of one, he had forgotten how truly inconvenient and limiting it was to be trapped within the confines of a mortal body. The need to eat, breathe, shit, sleep and fuck were all things he had happily been relieved of. Without such needs and debilitating desires he had truly felt free, truly been able to develop his one true sense; his sense of self.

  "Behold." He said, voiceless, "The true plane of the damned, the lands of the dying..." he looked beyond the glowing clouds beneath him, seeking out the forms of the beings on the planet below. He watched them move, seemingly with no purpose and had he a throat he would have groaned.

  "Neither wrought by the flames nor pestilence of eternal damnation." He commented as he watched, "Molded by frivolous emotion, guided by illusions of false gods. I am your Savior, hail your true God. Hail Eon."

  With that he began his descent, his return from the heavens to the domain of the living. As he passed through the clouds he caught a glimpse of the brother's light gleaming off the lustre of Dauid's Tower, the highest structure in all Canrom.

  Eon remembered what the tower had been before it was claimed and re-christened by the Imperial Church. Why, he even remembered High Father Dauid and what a sniveling alien he was, fueled by his pride and mad with power. Those devoted to the Empire however saw not a mad priest, but a passionate leader and dutiful servant of Dura'Ana. Had Eon a nose, he would have snorted at the memory.

  As his swarm descended, the wastelands of Canrom came into view. Eon hummed at the sight for the Canrom countryside he remembered had been rich with greenery and farmlands. He recalled the livestock that used to feed on the lush fields, the rivers and lakes that had all but dried up and the dense patches of trees where he had played with his friends in as a child. It had all but gone and what was left in its wake could only be seen as a mockery of some of Eon's fondest, most comfortable memories.

  The land Eon had once called home, the country of Canrom, had been completely obliterated in the first days of the Empire. The livestock had been slaughtered and the farmlands bombarded with weapons of mass destruction and militarized nanomachines. The small farming towns and interstates were flattened overnight, the forests and bodies of water burned down and dried up. For hundreds of years after the first bombs fell, all the land on the west of Canrom City was completely uninhabitable due to the radiation and the subsequent nuclear winters.

  Once the dust settled and the ozone layer healed itself, people returned to the plains of Western Canrom, though they did not find what they were searching for. The vegetation never returned as the soil had been completely turned to ash from the nanomachines and WMDs. Instead of the farmlands they desired, they found only dead lands and blistering heat. The little water left was irradiated, and any life that was around had been horribly mutated, some even violent.

  Despite all this, some people chose to stay. They indiscriminately robbed the trains and caravans that drove through, shot down aircraft that tried to fly through, raided any villages or settlements within reach and turned to cannibalism because they could not raise livestock. Over time these tribes of people grew large and well known, feared by any who would even dare to think of venturing into the wastelands. They as a whole were commonly referred to as "Marauders".

  Eon's swarm had found solid ground amid a large Marauder camp. He looked around at them, at their short hairstyles and tanned skin. Their trappings were made of whatever they could find in the wastelands. While many were bare breasted and covered in tattoos, some wore rusted metal armor fabricated from ruined trains and aircraft, and the rest simply wore the tanned and boiled skins of those they had killed and consumed. Eon did not approve of their garments.

  His generals and any he saw fit to knight were outfitted in painted armor that they had stripped from fallen Govian soldiers. Eon had permitted them to paint and modify them as they desired provided they followed his color scheme of black red and provided they bore his sigil, a single open eye with a flame in the iris, on their chest pieces and shields.

  As he wove through his marauder encampment, Eon became more and more disgusted with his subordinates. Some were picking apart and consuming the flesh of an unfortunate merchant they had earlier intercepted, others were indulging their senses in drugs and public debauchery.

  Eon floated past a pair of males who had a female bridged between their crotches. He stopped and observed for a moment, watching one

  of the savages thrust ferociously into the female. She in turn twisted her body between the two, groaning a muffled groan due to the obstruction in her mouth. Had Eon a stomach, it would have churned at the shameless sight.

  "Such insolent acts of putrid fornification." Eon muttered, his inaudible voice sick with disgust. "Do my words fall upon deaf ears? Could it be that even as I, the greatest of immortal specters, traverse this mortal plane within a mortal body in vain? A physical vessel that can be spoken to, heard and reasoned with... could it be that my loyal subjects still fall short of obeying my clear and indisputable commandments?"

  Eon watched as the naked female marauder was lifted into the air and flipped over onto her hands and knees where, with only a slight grunt of discomfort, she all but welcomed the brutal sodomization that followed.

  "Such filth!" Eon proclaimed. "Such disobedience! Fear not, my subjects, for I, your king and savior, shall rid the world of these stained and soiled souls."

  At that, and with only a moderate amount of concentration on his part, Eon split his single nanomachine swarm onto three smaller swarms. Though he was but one conscience he was able to direct all three individual swarms with ease.

  The first swarm navigated into the mouth and nostrils of the sodomizer, immediately locking his body in place mid penetration. As the female turned her sweaty head to see why the penile barrage had halted, the second swarm filled her orifices and she froze. The final fornicator grabbed the female's head to thrust it back into his lap just in time for the final swarm to overtake his body.

  For a moment, Eon left the three in place and allowed them only control over their eyes for he wished them to witness their punishment.

  "Brothers, sisters, slaves and cadavers!" The trio shouted in unison. While their voices were still their own it was not they who spoke but Eon speaking through them.

  "Your King, your savior and dear friend has returned with news." The three bodies twisted out of their shameful positions and stood shoulder to shoulder with naught moving but their eyes and lips.

  "Before we reveal the news however," the three voices continued. Their tones were flat and lacking emotion. "We, with great sorrow and shame, confess before you our sins. We have betrayed the trust of our highness, the most benevolent King Eon, and with humble hearts we embrace our public punishment, that you may learn from our transgressions."

  "For the sins of sodomy, fornication, and public disconsideration we forever surrender our privilege of sexual pleasure." At that the knees of the males locked solid and the female, who stood in the center, with a strength that was not her own, took hold of each of their genitalia. Momentarily, Eon released his hold over the male's consciences and allowed them to experience and express the pain of their violent emasculation at the hands of the female.

  "Let the image of the spilt blood burn into your minds." Eon said through the female, tossing the bloody spongy appendages aside. The males wailed violentl
y, unable to move their bodies as blood streamed from the gaping hole that they had once celebrated as the throne of their manhood. "Let their screams reverberate in your minds for all of time that you may never forget the fruit of transgression."

  "No more shall the pleasure of my company bring delight or gratification." The female continued. "Sir Heklaar, if you will." She turned her eyes toward one of Eon's knights, a Gaian in full platinum and red adorned Eonic regalia. He stood at least two heads above all the non-Gaian marauders and his shoulders were nearly twice as broad, thrice with pauldrons, as any of his Elvish or Humaan brethren.

  Heavy metal armor and chain clanked as Sir Heklaar approached. The rest of the marauders watched intently, both fearful of Eon and eager for the bloodbath that was about to ensue.

  "Sir Heklaar," Eon said through his temporary host. "We have committed the sin of public fornication and beg of you Eon's discipline. How will you right our wrongdoing?"

  Sir Heklaar stood tall and silent. His face was hidden behind the visor of a heavy platinum colored helmet. As the most favored of Eon's judges it was his duty to decide how to punish any being Eon designated.

  "Kal." Heklaar said, his voice deeper than the hells themselves. He looked to the bleeding blonde haired male Elf on his right and Eon released his grip over his mind. "This is not your first taste of King Eon's judgement. Kal, you will die."

  "Ema'as." Heklaar said, pointing his armored finger at the female in the middle. Eon released his grasp over her and she gasped loudly. "A Vampre whores punishment is unending death, you shall be stricken with the thirst."

  "Faang." Heklaar said looking to the male on the left. "You have given yourself over to your lusts over and over. You are to heal and then serve two years in the brothel caravan. You shall receive no compensation for your services, only food and water."

  Kal and Faang fell to the ground and writhed in pain as their bodies were once again allowed to move on their own accord. They splashed and slithered in the puddles of blood and sand beneath them like a fish on the deck of a ship. Ema'as, the lone female wept between them.

  "Kal," Heklaar announced, brandishing a heavy looking maul. "I banish thee to the Hells. May Eon show you mercy in the afterlife!"

  Heklaar brought his maul down on Kal's chest, caving it inward and forcing his last breath from his body. In what moments he had, Kal tried to gasp but because of his wounds he could only lay and stare up at the clouds and at the brothers who shone behind them.

  Kal thought of his mother, the one good thing he had had in his life. He had lost her at age thirteen in a crossfire between Black Knight rebels and Govian Inquisitors and was left to the streets. He survived for a while foraging through waste bins and pawning whatever he could manage to steal but eventually made his way out of Canrom City where he joined a tribe of Marauders. Without the love of his mother or any real hopes or dreams to work toward, Kal spent the rest of his short life addicted to sugir and debauchery.

  Eon, the conscience among the swarm, tapped into Kal's personal NaNe and listened in on the thoughts of his mother. He felt the emotions of the dying being and as one final act of mercy, Eon manifested a memory of Kal's. As Heklaar crashed the maul down through Kal's face all he heard was the voice of his mother.

  "I love you baby boy."

  With the death of Kal, Heklaar turned to Ema'as, the lone female and former bridge between the two males penises. Behind him, two marauder soldiers wheeled up a wooden cart with an iron cage atop it that contained the wildly panting and thrashing body of a thirst-stricken Vampre.

  The Vampre with solid black eyes, laid on his arched back, convulsing and screaming out of hunger. Foam clung to the sides of his mouth and his skin had blistered in his short time in the brothers light.

  "Bring her to the cage." Heklaar shouted, his bloodied maul still in hand. Two soldiers jogged up to Ema'as who stood petrified at the sight of the thirst-stricken Vampre. A soldier grabbed each of her arms and attempted to guide her toward the cage but she resisted.

  "No!" She screamed, pulling her arms free. "Please, no!"

  "Walk!" One of the shoulders commanded. She refused and locked her knees in place.

  "Please Heklaar, please show mercy!" Tears fell from her eyes as she dug her heels into the bloody sand beneath her. "I don't deserve this!"

  Heklaar stood and silently observed for a moment before lifting the head of his maul from the ground and brandishing the weapon in front of him.

  Without another word, Heklaar stepped forward. He approached the Vampre female and without warning, swung the maul down at her right knee. The sound of bone cracking echoed through the silent crowd and her knee bent backward causing her to fall. She let out a high blood curling scream and the soldiers struggled for a moment to hold her up.

  "Carry on." Heklaar commanded as he turned from Ema'as. The soldiers obediently dragged the screaming female forward to the cage.

  "Come!" The caged thirst stricken Vampre frantically hissed as Ema'as neared. "Yes, closer! Closer!"

  Ema'as reeled in terror as the iron bars of the cage grew nearer. The Vampre put his bony blistered arm between them and reached his long nailed fingers toward her. He wore a look of intense determination and firmly pressed his face against the bars, gnashing at the meal that was to come.

  "Please." Ema'as frantically sobbed, "Please no!" One of the soldiers, silently grabbed Ema'as' arm and thrust it through the bars. The emaciated Vampre leapt at the arm, quickly digging his fangs into her wrist.

  Blood gushed as the Vampre ripped a chunk of skin and tendon from Ema'as' wrist, creating for himself a fountain of blood from which to drink. Ema'as, frozen with shock, stuttered a scream as the Vampre feasted on her arm. She could feel herself growing weaker, the color from her skin was fading, she quickly turned a ghostly shade of white and when her streaming stopped, the pupils in her eyes seemed to expand to cover the whole eyeball until they were naught but blackness.

  Once her eyes had turned, Ema'as felt her two canine teeth being forced from their gums. They fell from her open mouth and landed in the sand beneath her, adding yet another bloody stain to the area. At that point she had ceased her screaming and as she stared into nothingness, two long pointed fangs emerged where her canine teeth had been.

  The Vampre had drank his fill. His eyes closed and he released Ema'as' limp arm. His black eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out, falling to the floor of his cage.

  Heklaar stood silent, having observed the whole transformation. He watched Ema'as for a moment and then turned to the soldiers.

  "Take her to a cage." He said "If you can, clothe her. If you are unable, so be it." The soldiers nodded and dragged her limp, comatose body away leaving Heklaar to deal with the unconscious, possibly dead, body of Faang, the last fornicator.

  Eon's swarm navigated through the crowd and he examined their faces. He had achieved the reaction he had hoped for. He had instilled fear of his omnipresence in their hearts, he had brought a bit more order in the Marauders savage ways. He floated up to Heklaar and hovered above his head.

  "You have done well." Eon said into the judge's ear, making his voice audible. "You have pleased your king." Heklaar responded with a single nod and Eon left him.

  Eon navigated his swarm through the encampment, passing over multiple tents made of the tanned hides of slaughtered animals and enemies alike. There were no permanent structures as the Marauder way of life was dependant on being mobile.

  Eon's destination was just beyond the motor pool where the tribe's caravan of variously modified vehicles were stored. In order to travel the Waste and survive the inevitable gunfire they endured while raiding the trains and towns, the cars and trucks had been outfitted with metal plating pulled from wrecked aircraft and trains. Their suspensions had been lifted to accommodate the rough terrain and many of their chassis had been cut to allow for passengers to easily fire their weapons. Some had plows and spikes outfitted to the front for the purpose of quickly mowing throug
h people on the ground and nearly all had recently been painted with Eon's sigil. There was also a mix of about thirty or forty two wheeled vehicles they used for flash assaults and scouting.

  A large tan and brown tent, one made of the skins of his slain enemies, stood just past the motor pool. Eon guided his swarm toward the entrance of the tent, flying undetected past the guards and coming to a rest inside.

  It was dark and hot inside, a red roll of carpet had been unrolled over the sandy dirt when it had been raised a few weeks prior and a long wooden table stood in the main room. At the edge of the table furthest from the door sat a silent figure.

  He had chains around his wrists that were bolted to the heavy table before him. His bare feet too were chained to the chair beneath him and a final chain was wrapped around his torso and toned biceps. He wore an ornate platinum colored chest plate with Eon's sigil engraved into it and a brown tunic underneath. His shoulders were hidden behind his layered spaulders and he wore a mining mask with dual ventilators at the mouth. Short dark brown hair peeked out from behind the mask where the strap wrapped around his head. A jagged, ruby and diamond encrusted devilish looking crown composed of horns from various beasts of Duraan laid in a pool of sweat on the table in front of him.

  His face was parallel to the surface of the table beneath it. The ventilators in the mask augmented the sound of his breathing making it sound almost metallic. As Eon's swarm neared him he quivered a bit as he had become the only one capable of sensing its presence. He produced a metallic sounding sigh and lifted his head slightly.

  "Hello." the being said with a despised tone, his voice carrying an eerie bit of tremolo with it. He did not bother raising his head to look for he knew he would find nothing. "Let's just get this over with."

  Eon was pleased with the being's broken demeanor. He recalled how resistant he had been when he had first taken possession of his body. He remembered the pitiful pleas for freedom, the incessant begging to see his family... eventually, however, Eon broke him and he became no longer an individual but a vessel.