It had been a long time since Uriel had considered such an option, and the thought of it filled both of his heads with a rush of blood.
He moved away from the bed, the child still whimpering at him with shimmering eyes, and pulled a sash near the wall. From the hall outside, he heard the metallic clang which called his servants. Within a whisper, Enaz was standing in his chambers, perfectly dressed in his orange robes and oiled head gleaming.
“Yes, your Eminence?”
“Go and fetch Ortis. I have a...special assignment for him to undertake,” Uriel said as he looked out the window of his tower, towards the wealthy apartments where the Danes lived.
“Yes, my Emperor,” Enaz said as he bowed over nearly double.
“And take this...plaything...away,” Uriel added, as an afterthought, taking his eyes from the window to look at his servant.
Enaz looked to the boy, naked and shivering.
“What would your excellency like done with...it?” Uriel felt himself twitch, as Enaz had nearly called the child “him” and then caught his error, an error which would have earned him a dozen lashes at least.
Even with his correction Enaz’ question had sparked a flash of contempt for the eunuch’s incompetence and insolence.
“I care not. Take it away! Chop its balls off and dump it in your priory. Your order could always use more fodder, couldn’t they?” Uriel sneered.
Enaz stared passively back at him and wisely chose not to tempt fate, and remained silent. Uriel admired the shrewdness of the eunuch as the robed man gathered the naked child to him and quickly escorted him from the room.
Uriel turned his gaze back to the window, forgetting the unsettling fears besetting his mind and imagining the glory of what he was about to command once more.
Enaz strode quickly in front of the boy on their way to Ortis’ quarters from the Emperor's bedchamber, when halfway down a set of stairs the boy had begun crying hysterically.
Enaz stopped, turned and smacked the child hard on the back of his head.
“Stop it, boy. You have no idea just how lucky you truly are. You’ve just had your miserable and worthless life saved twice in as many cycles. Few could lay such a claim, so stop that sniveling this instant!” Enaz snapped.
The boy stopped his sobbing, and glared somberly at the floor instead.
Enaz gazed longingly at the boy’s naked, skinny frame. Not out of lust...those feelings had long since faded in Enaz. No, his longing was borne of jealousy. Enaz couldn’t help but admire the boy’s smooth, hairless body. The supple, pale skin free of blemishes. The flat, supple belly. The boy was everything that Enaz had once been, and wished he still could be.
Enaz had only been a few sojourns older than this boy when he’d been taken from his old life and inducted into the priory. He had been born in the early days of Uriel III’s reign as Emperor of Exeter, before the Imperial prohibitions on unrestricted procreation.
Enaz had been raised the son of a very influential family, when such things still mattered, at least to some within the Empire. It wasn’t until the last of the walls were constructed, when Enaz had seen four sojourns, that all classes and social status were completely obliterated.
That was when Enaz’ family had ended up on the streets. It was the nightmare of his existence. For ten sojourns, Enaz and his family had been forced to scrounge in the streets for every meal, to beg and scrape for the dignity that was once theirs by right.
At his fourteenth sojourn, the priory was formed, and Uriel immediately set out to recruit young men from throughout the Empire, whose mission it would be to bring the voice and the light of the Emperor’s wisdom to the people.
They were called to sit at the feet of the Emperor, to learn from him and then spread his teachings to all corners of his Empire. At least that was what he and all the citizens of the Seat were told. Enaz now knew that it was also a way to corrupt the faith and belief in the Divines, and co-opt it toward worship of the Emperor and his works.
Many hundreds of young boys volunteered for such an opportunity, while many more were simply pressured or had no other choice but to join. Some were simply taken from their homes and families by the Emperor, conscripted for the “greater good”.
The youngest boys in that first group of recruits were five and six sojourns, the oldest Enaz’ age or a sojourn older.
Enaz and the other hundreds of boys were taken into the Great Hall of the Emperor’s newly built Citadel tower, a monstrous black marble structure with gold inlay and filigree everywhere. Enaz could still recall the look of amazement on all the boy’s faces as they filed into the hall. None of them had ever seen such grandeur. The excited way they imagined the importance of their new lives just beginning. Enaz knew that most of them had never even seen real gold before.
The boys were all led into that hall by the hundreds, stripped naked, then the doors were barred and the Imperial soldiers arrived, the Emperor himself at their head. These boys, innocent as they were, did not, could not, have imagined the perversions that were to be performed upon them on that day.
Enaz had few good memories of his life up to that point, but after that day and night, he would always be able to tell which was the worst. Enaz had blocked out as much of those first moments as he could, but try as he might, the sights, the smells and the sounds always remained with him, threatening to overwhelm him at times.
The final indignity of that ordeal was when they lined the boys up, naked, bleeding, and covered in fluids from the hundreds of Imperial soldiers who had just abused them, and marched them to the front of the hall. There they were held down while the commanders of that horror brigade carved their testicles out of their bodies with paring knives. The wailing that filled the great hall that night still haunted Enaz’ dreams every night without fail.
The older boys, like Enaz, were not subjected to the same degree of “initiation” as the youngest ones. Not all of the young boys survived this procedure, and the ones who did were forever broken. When it was Enaz’ turn, the rough, strong hands of the Imperial soldier clamped down on his upper arms like a vise grip. Enaz was shivering in fright, in shock, but he had grown completely numb. As had most of the boys.
In Enaz’ case, an unusual thing had happened. The Emperor himself appeared among the men, and approached a number of the older boys, tapping them on the top of the head. This was a signal to the Imperial soldiers apparently, and the boys so selected were taken from the great hall and delivered into a side chamber. Enaz could still recall the gratitude which he had felt in that moment.
The Emperor approached Enaz and not only touched Enaz’ dark shock of hair, but caressed his cheek. The guard holding him pulled Enaz to his feet and roughly guided him, along with the other four boys that the Emperor had chosen, to line up in the chamber.
The chosen boys waited in the quiet chamber, watched by a new group of oiled and muscled guards. They had been pushed down onto their knees and ordered to remain that way. They waited this way for several prayers, until Enaz was sure that his knees couldn’t take any more. His back and legs were on fire, as were the other boys, their whimpering cries the only sound in the chamber. Enaz did not, as some of the other boys did, offer a devotion to the Divines, as he and his family had long ago given up such superstitions.
Finally when Enaz felt that he would fall over, which he knew would almost certainly result in his death at the hands of the guards, the Emperor entered, naked and covered with a sheen of sweat, as well as other things.
Enaz averted his gaze downward, his pain, fear and shame making him tremble.
The Emperor stood before them and spoke “You are all special indeed to be shown such mercy. Above all the others this night, you five are worthy of the gift I am to give you.”
Enaz, curiosity overwhelming him, tilted his head slightly, enough so that he could see what was happening.
The Emperor stalked to the boy at the far end of the line, wearing the smile of a predator about to dine on its prey.
&nbs
p; Uriel placed his hand under the boy’s chin, a blondehaired boy with piercing blue eyes, despite their being bloodshot and red-rimmed from crying, and bade the boy look into his eyes.
The Emperor put one slender finger upon the boy’s lower lip, and pushed down, opening the boy’s mouth. Then the Emperor straightened, and Enaz could see his manhood, glistening and erect. Enaz turned his head and closed his eyes, but he could hear the sounds of the boy as he sobbed and choked through his task, and heard the pleasurable sighs of the Emperor, even though he tried hard to remember some of the songs he and his family used to sing, in an attempt to drown out the discomfiting sounds.
Enaz wished, with every fiber of his being, that he would die right there and then.
But like all wishes, it went unfulfilled.
He considered trying to run, knowing that he would simply be cut down by the Imperial guards, but he knew that it was just as likely they would simply subdue him and throw him back in the great hall to have his balls carved out. Enaz didn’t want that, so he tried to will himself to be strong.
Finally, the Emperor grunted and the boy gagged. Enaz heard the Emperor say “You have received my seed. The seed of the Empire itself. May it grow within you and inspire you to plant my seed in others.”
The solemn intonation and words seemed to Enaz to be a gross parody of sanctity, given the base act to which such words had just been attributed, and he felt as though he should laugh out loud at the absurdity. But Enaz found he had no mirth within him, only bitterness and despair. The Emperor then moved on to the second boy and was already engaging him with the same ritual.
If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, Enaz might have been impressed by the Emperor’s ability to so swiftly achieve arousal again. Enaz had little experience with sex play with others, but he had many times found fulfillment in his own way, and he had never before been able to enjoy a second arousal so soon after climaxing from a first.
Enaz listened as the other three boys each received their “gift” from the Emperor, the pain in his lower body forgotten as the blood coursed through his body, urging him to get up, to run, to fight, to do anything other than wait here for what he knew was coming. And yet he could not. His body refused to act. Enaz felt rooted to the ground, as though the Emperor’s presence were like a weight around his soul.
When it was finally time for Enaz to undergo the same “rite”, his heart felt frozen. He could no longer feel anything inside; he floated in a sea of lethargy, disconnected from everything. It felt as though he were watching it all from outside of his body, distantly observing what was going on with a dispassionate, detached view.
This seemed to please the Emperor. As he approached Enaz he said, with genuine warmth, “Ah, look at you. So stoic. So serious. I believe you will be the shepherd that leads my flock. Would that not be glorious?”
Then Enaz could only stare emptily into the cold, deadened eyes of the man-boy who stood before him, before being forced to look down at the hard throbbing flesh that was now being inserted into his mouth. He closed his eyes and did as the Emperor bid.
Enaz had died that day, or at least the vital part of himself that had made him who he was had died. After that day, Enaz came to believe that he was naught but an empty shell, designed to serve the Will of the Emperor.
He was a vessel to be filled, and he need never think of anything beyond how to please his Emperor. And as such, nothing would ever need to matter, ever again.
By the time Ortis arrived in the Emperor’s bed chamber, Uriel was standing in the middle of the room alone, now dressed in long flowing robes with his hands clasped behind his back. He appeared to be silently thinking, considering a problem and formulating a solution. He had seen the Emperor this way many, many times over the sojourns. Although Uriel carried himself with a serene posture, Ortis knew from personal experience that what looked like calm to an outside observer was really coiled tension. Only long sojourns standing at this man’s side had given him such insight into the man’s moods.
He could see from the set of his shoulders that Uriel was upset, and straining to contain his rage. He almost felt sympathy for whoever it was that had awakened the ire of this man, and Ortis knew what he had been sent for.
Ortis, as so often happened, felt a flash of attraction, seeing the power and the pull of the man he had once shared so much of himself with. He thought back to the times when he would see this man standing at the window, just as now, and be able to encircle the man in his arms and together they would copulate violently, and then in the aftermath they would discuss what Ortis was needed to do to bring Uriel the peace that always eluded him.
But Ortis quickly suppressed that feeling, something he had grown quite skilled at over the past several sojourns. Those days, Ortis knew, were long since passed. He would never again know the salty taste of those perfect lips, the strong hands gripping his loins, as Uriel thrust inside of him.
The Emperor turned and looked at Ortis and the effort he had been making to suppress his inner rage evaporated. Ortis withered beneath that icy glare. Uriel was the only person he had ever met who had been able to have that effect on him.
“Ah, Ortis,” the Emperor managed to say through nearly gritted teeth. “Good. Let me give you a rare gift.”
And then he had explained what he had needed.
When Uriel was finished, Ortis was sweating, the same way that he had in their younger days when both of them had been virile, passionate men, dreaming of their Empire and the things they must do to claim it.
Now, sojourns later and nearing the end of his life, this gift from the Emperor sparked something in Ortis that he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Flush from the telling, Uriel’s words echoing in his ears, Ortis felt an even more reverent sense of worship for the man than he ever had.
He bounded down the stairs like an excited child, his heart pounding with anticipation, eager for the opportunity to do this incredible thing for Uriel, the man who had once given all of himself to share with Ortis.
He walked briskly to the officer’s quarters, found and gathered the commanders of the army together and gave them his instructions, stressing that tonight they would be doing the Emperor’s work. Sacred work. From his lips to their hands.
Ortis grinned with delight as he mounted his destrier and rode out of the gates of the Imperial Citadel, feeling like nothing less than the personification of justice itself.
Chapter 7
Catelyn lowered herself gently, slowly, quietly from the roof of the building to the ledge below, feeling along the lip of the wood beam with her toes, assessing the stability of the structure before committing herself with her full weight.
Atypical of her usual style of working, she had never been here before this night, and she couldn’t risk a stray noise, or even worse, a fall. She not only had to concentrate to make full use of her bubble in the strange environment, she had to be as stealthy as possible and fade into the shadows. To ensure herself utmost secrecy, she had donned her thieves garb. Canvas leggings which went only to mid-calf, leaving her lower legs and feet free, and a long sleeve tunic. She had tied her hair back as much as possible, and wound a dark scarf around her neck and lower face.
All of her clothing was dyed to blend into the night, having soaked all the articles in a bath of walnut hulls and rusted nails, followed by a soak in salt water to fix the dye in the fibers. Her mother had taught Catelyn how to dye clothing as a girl, and together they would make brightly colored clothing together in secret, one small way they had of expressing their individuality in an Empire where the law stated that no bright colors would be allowed to be seen in public.
She had rubbed the exposed skin on her feet, hands and face with ash and charcoal from the piles of rubble scattered everywhere around the roost where she dwelled.
She was by no means invisible she knew, but she certainly hoped that if anyone happened to spot her, she would force any observers to have to squint to make out any details abo
ut her identity, or even that she was a living person. She hated going into a situation without having scouted her target first, as it increased the chances of someone spotting her and putting her in danger, but her need was urgent.
Catelyn felt a stab of paranoia as her hand brushed against her thigh, where she had considered carrying the weapon in its sheath, but it wasn’t with her. Catelyn had been wanting to bring it with her more and more, mostly out of a need to know where it was and that it was safe, but she fought the urge. Even more so, since she was traveling into the den of the lion tonight, she restrained those urges and left it securely hidden in her roost.
For what she had planned, she prayed to the Divines that she would not have need of a weapon.
With both feet gripping the rough hewn wood of the ledge, she squatted and sat on her haunches, probing the street below with her bubble. What she heard and smelled from below was quiet anticipation. It was unusual to say the least, but inwardly she smiled. This was her element. In trying to guard against any midnight intrusions, they had given her everything she needed to make a silent approach.
She expanded her senses and shifted them into the house she was about to infiltrate, assessing her situation. She heard a mix of sleepers in the rooms below, and the soft velvet footfalls of sentries on patrol both inside the house as well as on the street below. But none on the roof.
Catelyn shook her head in disbelief. Despite all the evidence she’d left behind at Dane Eyrris’ apartment, they still hadn’t bothered to place any safeguards to guard against an intruder from above.
She wondered idly if it was a ruse; a trap to lure her in and then snap shut like a spring-loaded cage. But after listening for many breaths, Catelyn determined that no, they simply weren’t expecting someone to drop in from the roof. She had seen this before with other targets she had pulled heists on. People always seemed to reason that entering through an upper floor window would more likely have been accomplished by a climber from below. She would have an edge now, at least at the start.
Bloodfire (The Sojourns of Rebirth) Page 16
