The Pillaging of an Empire

by Amanda Clover

  “Come on!” Nina hissed, dragging her back towards the darkness.

  Julyana stumbled after her. The ground sucked at her feet, and as she pulled free she left behind her shoes. At the ragged treeline from the path she cast a last, frantic look back, and caught a glimpse of Lord Novor standing alone, his back to the light as bandits surrounded him. She saw a dagger rise, its wicked curve gleaming in the torchlight, and come down.

  Then she was among the trees, and the scene hidden from sight.

  The darkness of the mire swallowed them. The spongy earth rolled about them, trees looming like hooded crones with bony hands poised, pointing after them, urging their pursuers on. Sobbing, Julyana ran with Nina, every step an effort. The darkness of the forest deepened. Moonlight filtered through the heavy mists like a pale glow all around them.

  Julyana had never been one for running. Her gown slowed her as the hem sucked at the brackish water, the groping hands of trees and brush tearing the lace and silks to shreds as she staggered on.

  “Further mistress. Further!” Nina gasped.

  “He’s dead,” Julyana gasped. “He’s dead. Nina. Terence is dead!”

  Nina clung to her. “I know. I know! But please, Julyana. Please! We have to-“ She stopped, raising her head like a bloodhound with a scent. Julyana choked off her sob, listening.

  Through the darkness, men splashed nearer in the mire.

  Nina’s head swivelled frantically. Stopped on a tree. “Quick! Mistress. Here!”

  Julyana struggled with Nina to the old tree. Forcing aside some brambles revealed a small hollow beneath. “Mistress! In here. Hurry!”

  “But-“

  “No time!” Nina gasped breathlessly. She pushed Julyana and awkwardly the princess struggled into the hollow beneath the tree. It seemed so petty to think of how it ruined her dress yet that thought rose high in Julyana’s mind as she sank into the marshy waters beneath the tree.

  “Stay quiet,” Nina hissed as the sound of splashing steps grew louder. Climbing to her feet, Nina took off once more.

  “Nina!” Julyana cried, then slapped her hands over her mouth as figures loomed out of the dark.

  Nina had scarcely made it a dozen steps before the bandits raced into the open. “Lookie here!” one laughed, grabbing her by the arm. He swung her about, Nina screaming as she stumbled to her knees in the murky water. The man holding her laughed cruelly. “You’ll have more to scream about soon!”

  The others filed out of the mists, six in all. Wearing rough vests and piecemeal clothes, naked steel hung from their belts and their hands, many of it rusted or ill tended.

  As such, the one who stood apart was more notable. He was of medium height and bulky. Unlike the others, he wore a tattered military uniform and jacket, marking him out as a veteran of the Istanov army. Julyana had heard many soldiers if discharged turned to banditry in the countryside, but the sight chilled her strangely more than the other men and their brutish garbs. Half his lip curled up, flesh puckered in an old scar like a permanent sneer. His sword had a more tended look to it, cleaned of rust but bloodied still, something Nina got a very good look at as he placed it against Nina’s chin, forcing the handmaiden’s head back.

  “You’ve been a bit of trouble, haven’t you, sweetling,” the bandit leader said in a voice rough as gravel. “And just what were you doing in that carriage?”

  Nina trembled. “Please, sirs. My lord asked me to escort him back to his home. I’m just his maid! Nothing more.”

  “Ha! Nothing more she says? With tits like these?”

  The man holding Nina’s arm grabbed the front of her gown, tearing it off to reveal her soft breasts. Nina gasped, flinching away, but the bandit’s grip was like iron.

  “Look at that!” another bandit cackled. “I think now we know why she was brought along eh? Lords.” The bandit spat into the swamp. “Always get the best he does.”

  “That they do,” the former soldier said, his eyes gleaming in the dark. “Tell you what, whore. Show us the same care you did your master, and maybe we’ll let you go. Eh?”

  Julyana trembled in her hollow, whimpering into her muffling hands. Nina trembled, her eyes frightened as she nodded reluctantly.

  “Y-yes. Of course. Just… just don’t hurt me.”

  The bandit leader laughed, opening the front of his pants. “Do what we say, and we won’t. Too badly.”

  Somehow, seeing Nina, proud, flirty, confident Nina, shake with such fear as she hesitantly reached out and touched the bandit’s pants, drawing out his cock, was worse than anything yet. Julyana winced as Nina cupped the man’s shaft, his cock hardening in her hands.

  “In your mouth, whore.”

  Nina nodded shakily. She stroked his shaft, then leaned forward, taking his cock in her mouth. Julyana moaned with despair as Nina began to hesitantly bob, only for the bandit chief to scoff and grab her hair. “You can do better than that!” he shouted and viciously thrust forward. Nina choked, tears in her eyes as the bandit brutally fucked her mouth, thrusting his thick shaft between her soft lips. Soon enough the man was grunting and moaning, the other men around laughing and egging him on.

  Julyana cowered in her hollow amid the filthy water, hating herself. Yet she couldn’t look away, couldn’t even as tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks as the bandit chief used the woman’s mouth with his brutal lust, his voice rising in a heavy moan. Julyana saw his body twitch, his hips work as he came, Nina’s throat frantically working as she struggled to swallow his load.

  With a gasp of satisfaction he pulled free, his cock slick with Nina’s spit. “Not bad.”

  “Me next!” the man who had been holding Nina’s arm cried, opening his pants eagerly and freeing his cock. “I’ll take the slut next!”

  Julyana whimpered, sobbing into her hand as the next man shoved his cock down Nina’s throat, fucking her face without a hint of caring for the woman beneath. This was too much. Julyana shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out the moaning of the bandits as they took turns throat fucking her handmaiden. One after the next. Hours seemed to pass as Nina was forced to take their cocks until they were satisfied.

  When the last man groaned and came he shoved Nina off his cock, sending the young woman splashing into the swamp. He pumped his cock, Nina flinching as ropes of his seed splattered all over her. “Look at that!” the man laughed cruelly. “There’s a look for a fine slut!”

  “Let’s take her cunt now.”

  “Shut up!” their leader shouted sharply, eying his men. “I’ll take her first. But not here. We’d best be off. We’ve wasted enough time as it is. Ort! You filthied her up. Grab her. We’ll take her back to the Keep.”

  Nina groaned, her voice raw and weak as she propped herself up. “But… you said you’d… let me go…”

  The bandit leader eyed her contemptuously. “And?” He turned back to his men. “Hurry up, Ort. Or you’ll not get your cut of the reward.”

  Nina was too weak to offer a modicum of resistence as Ort grabbed her, slinging her over his shoulder. The man laughed, slapping Nina’s bum to make her cry out. “Going to enjoy this I will!”

  The bandits moved off, their shouts soon lost in the muffling haze of the mire. Julyana remained where she crouched, loathing of her own cowardice twisting in her belly. Trembling, she leaned over and was sick in the corner of the hollow. Nothing would have given her greater pleasure than staying in that hollow, curling up and waiting for death. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t, no matter how tempting it would be. Nina had sacrificed too much for her to take such pleasure.

  Sobbing, Julyana crawled out of the hollow, tearing more of her sodden dress on the brambles and rough wood of the trunk. She staggered to her feet, swaying a little where she stood. She cast about for some direction. She only knew she had to move, and the only guidance she had was away from where the bandits had gone.

  Stumbling, she staggered off into the marsh once more, every step a labour. There were towns in the mire. Somewhere
. If she could reach one, perhaps she could find help.

  The clammy touch of the mire soon had her shivering as she ventured on. The spongy earth gave way to sodden puddles. Her feet were soon numb and what was left of her gown dragged at her. After nearly an hour of walking she looked up and stopped.

  Two eyes glowed in the dark. The mist thinned, and she saw the shape that earlier would have filled her with horror, but now only numb dismay. Short as a child, it had clammy flesh and a pale belly. Huge, staring eyes swelled from its face and a wide lipless mouth split its head. Like a toad forced into a man’s shape, the creature stood in nothing but a tattered loincloth, carrying a crude club.

  Julyana stared at the wug for a moment, then turned slightly and forced herself on. She was too tired to run, but knew wugs were as cowardly as gertlings. They wouldn’t attack a human, even one as exhausted as her, without overwhelming numbers. As she struggled on she saw more eyes lurking in the mists, faintly luminous like will o’ the wisps, watching her. Gathering. Following.

  She pushed on. There was nothing else for it. A temptation grew in her. A temptation to stop. To give herself to the wretched little monsters. The fate as one of the disgusting creature’s broodmothers would be what she deserved for letting the bandits to what they did to Nina. She saw more. More. What were they waiting for? She doubted she could fight them if they came on. Doubted she wanted to.

  Yet the wugs didn’t approach. They lingered in the mists, watching. More joining the others, the soft slap of their footsteps following her. Perhaps they were wary of women after the huntress came. The thought was an errant one, but she didn’t care. Yet she did notice the wugs began to grow closer. Closer. Following until she could nearly reach out and touch them.

  And then, they weren’t.

  Julyana staggered onto a patch of drier earth and looked back. The wugs had stopped suddenly, their large eyes staring at her. Breathing heavily, Julyana looked about. She spotted a pole rising out of the mire. A number of them, spaced just apart, surrounded her. Pale round shapes topped each pole, and as she watched the mists thinned just enough to make out the shapes of human skulls.

  Julyana glanced back towards the wugs, then forward. She took another step and heard a hollow thunk. She glanced down, and found a wooden plank. She looked up in surprise and found herself on a small path through the mire, a bridge spanning a short dip into the waters, and rising from a knoll, a hut.

  Made of crude wood, it sprawled over the bald head of the earthen knoll, a porch suspended on stilts over the water. A crude chimney rose out of an uneven roof. Julyana sobbed with relief and ran awkwardly across the path and to the door. She pounded her fist against it. “Please!” she gasped, the hollow thunk of her fist on the door and her pleading voice swallowed in the mists. “Please! Help! I… I was attacked by bandits! They killed… Oh gods above… I…”

  The door swung open with a creak. As it gave way, Julyana staggered through the open door and bolted upright.

  With a sound like snapping fingers dozens of half candles suddenly burst to life. A fire flared in the stone hearth, crackling merrily, and by their glow Julyana saw that the hut was made up of a single massive room, the hearth in the corner the only thing made of stone. Herbs hung from the ceiling to dry as the peasants did for cures. A table was topped with a mortar and pestle along with strange tools, knives, and a heavy black book. Another human skull sat on the table, a candle jutting from it, melted wax spilling over the skull in rivulets, and a large black cauldron hung over the now burning hearth.

  And absolutely everything was covered in a layer of dust.

  Julyana stared at the quiet hut in dumb wonder. Feet like lead weights, she stepped inside and looked about.

  “Hello?” she called, her voice echoing in the emptiness. With a shudder she fell onto a bed in the corner and looked about the hut blankly. Something inside her seemed to break, and she let her head fall into her hands, sobbing in despair. She rolled onto her side, curling up and weeping, and there, under the hollow gaze of the skull and flickering candles, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  The Hut

  When she woke, she dimly prayed everything had been a horrible dream. But it was too good an illusion, and as she looked about the hut the thought was banished entirely. She felt empty as she sat on the edge of the bed. Empty and filthy. She looked down at her once fine dress, its rags crusty with filth from the mire.

  For a time she simply sat there. Hearth and candles still burned, warming her near naked skin. Wearily she pulled herself to her feet and went to the window. How long she slept was impossible to see. The darkness of the Nightmire defied the sun, the mists as endless and formless as ever. As she stared out the window she considered venturing on to seek a village again, but at a gleam of eyes in the shifting mire she moaned weakly in despair.

  She didn’t know what it was those stakes and their skulls did, but the wugs wouldn’t cross them. But if she tried, she had little doubt the amphibious monsters would take her with ease. And from there, it was a short leap to the monster’s village, where she would be drugged into mindless bliss, her breasts swollen and milked while her womb was stuffed with their eggs.

  Such a fate of surrendering to mindless pleasure was tempting, but she wasn’t there yet. Nina needed her. Remembering her handmaiden’s anguished face as the bandits dragged her away stirred anger in Julyana’s heart. Pointless rage would do her no good, she told herself.

  She tore herself from the window and went to the table. Her stomach growled and she groaned with hunger. She wasn’t fat, but had always been plump, and never missed a meal. The twisting hunger pains spurred her to the hearth, searching among old cabinets for something to eat. Yet even half starved the… things in the jars warned her away with a shudder. She couldn’t bring herself to read the labels written in a flowing hand, but she did find a jar of pickles among them. She picked it out but a second glance at the shelves beside desk almost made her put it back. Then her stomach twisted anew with hunger and she pushed aside her disgust and twisted off the lid.

  Taking a seat at the table Julyana ate mechanically until her stomach pain was eased. Then, putting aside the half eaten jar, she tried to think on what to do.

  She was alive, she was safe, but she was trapped. She looked about the hut mournfully, and her eyes fell on the skull. She grimaced and turned it away from her, and got a glance at the book. Curiosity flickered briefly in her breast, and she plucked it out, her hand stroking the worn leather cover. She opened it at random.

  She stared, for a moment flummoxed by the designs on the pages. Then her eyes drifted to the words beside it.

  The conjuration of blackest flames are a simple matter. To begin, a toad’s eye is needed and a pact ensured. The eye of the toad shall be placed in the cauldron along with the foreskin of a murderer skinned at midnight, and once the waters boil a shred of heathsbane added. With it, the fires will rise from the cauldron and open…

  Julyana read, her eyes slowly growing wider. The words were in the old tongue. She had learned it as many legal documents were still written in that language. Legal documents, and books of sorcery.

  She closed the volume, setting it down. She took a slow deep breath and read the spine of the tome. Wyld’s Sorcerous Chronicles.

  Julyana felt her heart beat quicker. This book… she’d heard of it. Everyone had. It was a tome of blackest sorcery. One even those of the Red Academy in Ingtvar spurned. Even the priests of the gods of vice preached against it, a book known to be used by black hearted sorcerers to summon demons and worse.

  Worse? Worse than bandits who murdered and raped? Who attacked good people and killed them for no reason but for greed and cruel lusts? Hate burned deep in her chest and this time she did not resist its call, her breasts rising and falling more rapidly and one hand tightening into a fist. If she could use this book… if she could use sorcery, then she could have power. And with such power, she could leave the hut without fear of the wugs.

&
nbsp; She could rescue Nina.

  Purpose grew in her. Julyana tightened her grip on the book, her eyes narrowing. She knew some things of magic, though she was never taught it. Only the Red Academy in Ingtvar taught sorcery. And the spells in the black tome would be cruel magics. But what of it? Nina was in danger. Terence was dead. What had she to lose?

  Julyana opened the book, her brow crinkled with grim purpose. She would learn. She would learn and she would rescue Nina.

  Whatever the cost.

  Sorcery

  Julyana took a slow, deep breath and raised her hand towards the hearth. The book was propped open in her hand to a yellowed page of diagrams and script. She glanced at the words scrawled in black ink.

  “Masian tass vorga!”

  The hearth flared. Bluish fire billowed from her fingers, snapping into the logs below. A gust of air strangely cold billowed from the hearth, the flames dancing and crackling and clawing at the cauldron. With a gasp Julyana dropped her hand. A brief smile touched her lips. She’d been shocked at how easily magic came to her. She had never dreamed she’d have such a natural aptitude. She could feel the power sing in her veins, race along her arms and tingle across her flesh. Those magic flames were one of near a half dozen spells she had mastered in the passing days.

  But what of that?

  Julyana frowned as she stared into the writhing blue fire. For three days she had worked through the ancient tome, puzzling out words and phrases as best she could. But her knowledge of the tongue was crude. She’d paid little attention in class to what was seen as archaic knowledge. Yet now she lamented those wasted days. She could feel the power. But using it was still beyond her! And every day that passed was one Nina didn’t have.

  Julyana turned from the flames. She’d flicked through the book that first day, studying much. Quickly marking out the spells with the simpler text. But near the front, written in the common tongue in a different hand, was a spell she’d hesitated before. A summoning of a demon of the pits.