Ghosts of Korath

by Jake Stone

  “Don’t know,” I say, “But if we don’t get her somewhere cooler, she could die.”

  Atia glances at Chun Hei, who quickly agrees with a nod.

  “Very well,” Atia says. “Take her. But stay close. There could be more bugs or sceraptists. Remain vigilante.”

  “Will do,” I say, hefting one of Petronelous’s arms across my shoulders and helping her into the tunnel. Activating a glow stick, I hold it out like a torch, illuminating our way through the passage.

  Within seconds, my skin is kissed by a cool breeze. It whistles through the tunnel, caressing my cheeks and bringing me to ease.

  “How does that feel?” I ask, glancing at Petronelous.

  The beautiful redhead breathes it in with a greedy smile, eyes rested shut as its refreshing touch cools her skin and lungs. But it’s not enough. She needs more. She shoves me aside as she pulls away from my embrace, staggering in a clumsy waddle as she fights to unlatch her armor. Piece by piece the sections come undone, until all that’s left is her black body suit.

  “Help me,” she pleads in a whisper, arms too tired to reach for the zipper on her back. “Please, Xander.”

  I hurry behind her, reaching for the zipper and tugging it down. The halves peel to the side, revealing a slender back that’s milky white and covered in sweat. Yanking it down farther, my breath catches in my throat as I pull it past her muscled ass, amazed by the sight of its tight skin and voluminous curve.

  Petronelous rests a hand against the wall, balancing herself as she struggles out the ends of her body suit. The feet come off with a tug and she’s left completely naked before the glare of the lamp.

  Skin drenched, muscles engorged, Petronelous is a beauty to look at.

  “By the corfew,” she says, raising the back of her hair above her head, which puts her heavy breasts on perfect display. Her body is an hour glass of exquisite muscle tone. Sixpack abs, curvy hips, long athletic legs, framed by narrow, square shoulders. But there’s nothing masculine about it. Instead, she’s the pinnacle of feminine strength.

  “I thought I was going to melt away,” Petronelous says, head falling back as she holds me in her gaze, a mischievous grin touching her lips as she sees me ogling her body. “Thank you,” she says.

  “For what?” I ask, pulling my gaze from her large breasts.

  “For bringing me here.”

  “Well, you needed to cool down.”

  “Yes,” she says, sashaying toward me. “And you’ve accomplished that. Now, why don’t you heat me back up.”

  My heart leaps as she stands before me, glorious in her naked form, and I watch, transfixed as she begins to unlock the sections of my armor. Holding each other’s gazes, I lean in for a kiss, sinking my tongue past her lips and feeling the warmth of her willing mouth. She’s ravenous in her desire.

  As we unlock the last sections of my armor, I hurry out of my body suit, cock springing forward as I tug the ends off my feet. Petronelous doesn’t wait. She grips it in her hand, jerking it ever so tightly and drawing a gasp from my mouth.

  Lit by desire, I grip one of her large breasts, holding it up to my mouth and sucking her nipple. Twirling the tip of my tongue around her aureola, she lets out a breath of unrestrained pleasure.

  “By the corfew, I needed this,” she whispers, her hands tightening around the base of my cock. “Your tongue feels so good.”

  I take the cue, dropping to a squat and spreading apart her toned thighs. I plant my mouth on her pussy and plunge my tongue deep within her, lapping up the juices that stream out of her like a river. Her hands curl through the back of my hair and her back arches forward.

  “Oh Xander.”

  But I don’t stop there. I replace my tongue with a pair of fingers, slipping them in and curling them against her g-spot as I tongue her clit. The combination sends her into a wild frenzy, and for a moment, I worry that she’s going to go full berserker on me. But instead, she guides me up and whispers hotly into my ear. “Fuck me.”

  “Are you sure?” I glance at the shadowed tunnel behind us. “Right here? Right now?”

  “Do it,” she says.

  “But shouldn’t you rest?”

  “Do it,” she repeats.

  “Okay,” I say with a shrug.

  Turning her around, I straddle her perfect ass before me, spreading her muscled cheeks open. My cock sinks into her pussy in a smooth glide, hugged by the warm and wet walls of her dripping canal. Within seconds, we’re banging, ass slapping against my hips, head hanging between her shoulders as she supports herself against the wall.

  The sensation is amazing, but just as we’re about to come, she slows down, reaching for my cock, and guiding it an inch higher into her ass.

  “There?” I ask.

  “I promised you, didn’t I?”

  My heart nearly goes into cardiac arrest, as I watch her pressing back against my cock, the tightness of her asshole spreading over the length of my cock as I add my own force to it as well.

  For a moment, she holds me in position, her hand against my stomach as the muscles along her back begin to constrict and loosen. “Slowly,” she whispers, allowing herself to get used to the length of my cock that’s sinking into her.

  After a while, she begins to relent, her hand lifting from my stomach as she frees me to move at my own pace. Slowly, carefully, I begin to move faster, hands gripped around her waist as I hurry my thrusts.

  “By the corfew,” Petronelous says, head turned to the side. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “Do you want me to stop.”

  “No!” she nearly screams. “Fuck me harder, faster.”

  My grip tightens around her waist, as I slam my cock into her ass, balls slamming against the slit of her pussy. Her ass feels like velvet around my cock, and I feel myself on the verge of coming.

  “Oh fuck,” she says, her hands nearly cracking the crags of the wall. “I’m gonna come.”

  Keeping my pace, I watch as her body writhes from the pleasure, her ass slamming against my hips with renewed fervor. Finally, with the twist of her hips, she comes to a stop, body trembling from ecstasy.

  “Are you alright?” I ask.

  “That was amazing,” she whispers. She lifts from the wall and reaches back to kiss me, careful to make sure that my cock stays in her ass. “Now I want you to come.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ignoring my question, she leans forward against the wall again, pressing herself down to the hilt of my cock. “And tell me when you’re about to come, okay?”

  Holy shit. “You got it.”

  Grabbing her hips, I begin to thrust, concentrating on the feel of her body. Her tits bounce back and forth, while the muscles of her ass ripple with every slap. Eventually, as I’m about to come, I let her know, and I feel the muscles of her asshole tighten around the base of my cock.

  “Oh shit!” My eyes rest shut as I begin to come, my cock being drained of every last drop by her ass. The sensation is maddening, and I feel myself drifting into a world on untouchable pleasure.

  When it’s over, I feel her face next to mine, our bodies coated in sweat. We stay like that for a while, panting, then breathing, until finally, we begin to rest.

  “That was amazing,” she says, squatting shamelessly against the wall, her muscled thighs flexing, her throbbing pussy on full display.

  “I thought I was going to have a heart attack,” I reply.

  She looks at me and laughs. “Are you serious?”

  “I’ve never done that before.”

  “You haven’t?”

  I shrug. “The girls I knew on earth were kind of…prudish. And I never had the courage to ask them.”

  “I did it with Harson once.” Her eyes glaze over as she remembers a happier time. “Nearly punched him in the face while he was doing it. But after a while, it began to feel really good.”

  Harson was her first love, the man who was abducted by slavers and died in the mines. H
e’s the reason why she became a Purifier, why she threw herself into the duty of being a soldier.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, “I know it hurts.”

  “I’ve gotten used to it,” she says, casting me a forced smile.

  I take her hand in mine, amazed to feel the coolness of her skin. “You’re not warm anymore.”

  “I’m not?” She presses a hand to her forearm, eyes widening in surprise as she discovers that I’m right. “That’s strange.”

  “Must be the tunnel,” I say.

  “Perhaps,” she says. “Or maybe it was you.”

  I laugh, giving her a shove.

  “I’m serious,” she says. “When I came it was like my entire body loosened, and I was able to breathe again. Maybe that’s why I was so horny, because it was my body telling me that I needed it.”

  “Well, whatever the case,” I say, caressing her cheek. “I’m glad you’re alright now.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers, rewarding me with a soft kiss.

  We quickly rise after that, fully aware that our long absence will inspire questions. Donning our armor, we hurry back to the junction, surprised to find the women waiting for us at the entrance.

  “How’s she feeling?” Chun Hei signs, eyes tight as she presses a hand to Petronelous’s brow.

  “Better,” I say.

  “What were you all doing in there?” Zorel asks teasingly. “I thought you were bing attacked by animals by all the screaming I heard.”

  Petronelous gives her a playful shove as she passes by, while Atia makes a disgusted face.

  “Anyway,” Zorel says. “How much farther?”

  Atia activates the holographic projector on her vambrace, and I see the image of the map floating above her. The tunnels appear curvy and confusing. It’s definitely not to scale and totally out of proportion. But based on our journey, I quickly assess our location.

  “I’m guessing about another day,” I say.

  Zorel groans, while the other women conceal their frustration behind stern faces. They’re not tired. But they aren’t engaged either. Instead, the reality of our success looms over us like a delayed death sentence.

  Unwilling to give in, Atia rises to her feet and draws her rectifier. “I’m going to check up ahead.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I say, standing up as well.

  “Fine.” She activates her retractable helmet, shielding her face under a layer of titanium, and her voice barks out from the speakers of her helmet. “Just don’t slow me down.”

  We march for a few minutes, turning around a corner and leaving the others behind. She doesn’t speak, only to point out the subtle shadows that dance around us.

  “I hope you’re not mad,” I finally say, breaking the silence.

  “About what?” she asks.

  “About arguing with you back at the entrance,” I say. “It’s just I really think that this is our only chance at finding whatever it was that the expedition found.”

  “I’m used to it by now,” Atia says.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “You,” she says.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course, you don’t,” she says. “You’ve never had to learn what it means to have a chain of command, people you must regard with respect and do what they ask of you.”

  “Believe me,” I say. “I’ve had my share of jerks that I’ve had to answer to. People who were less smart than I was.”

  Atia comes to a halt, her weapon falling to the side as she faces me. “Are you calling me dumb?”

  “No … I was just—”

  Her helmet retracts, and I’m face to face with the stunning beauty, her blue eyes like fire in the light of the glow sticks. “I’ve earned my place amongst the Saints,” she says. “I’ve worked—hard—and I’m not going to let someone disrespect me because they think I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Will you listen to me?” I say, retracting my helmet so that she can see the sincerity of my eyes. “I know you’re smart. Everyone does. But it feels like you’re always ready to put me in my place. And it’s getting pretty ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous?”

  “Yes,” I say, taking a step forward. “Ridiculous.”

  Her face contorts as she tries to think of a response. “You’re ridiculous,” she finally says.

  I’m about to respond when I hear the faint sound of rumbling off in the distance. We both turn.

  “Did you hear that?” she asks.

  “It’s coming from over there,” I say.

  Atia activates her helmet, as do I, and we march toward the sound of the rumbling, with our grips tightening around our rifles as we hold them out before us.

  The sound is growing, rising with every step, and suddenly my hands begin to tremble, warning me of the enemy that lies ahead. Atia notices.

  “How many?” she asks me.

  “A lot,” I say.

  As the passage begins to turn, I’m hit with the sight of an arched balcony overlooking what appears to be a vast cavern lit with the red glow of fire.

  “Stay here,” Atia orders.

  “And let you go alone?” I ask.

  “I’m just going to take a look. It’ll be fine.”

  “Be careful,” I say.

  “I will,” she replies.

  I watch as Atia creeps forward with her rectifier leveled before her eyes, her knees bending as she begins to make herself smaller and smaller. When she finally reaches the lip of the balcony, she kneels, head carefully angled back to peak over the edge.

  “What do you see?” I whisper through the com.

  “Hell,” she whispers.

  Chapter Eleven

  I gaze into the fiery pit, frightened as I see a pair of obese demons in leather hoods, manning what looks to be a blacksmith forge.

  The disgusting monsters pull their twisted blades from roaring fires, banging out the straighter ends, then plunging them into a bath of blood where they hiss and steam. After they’ve cooled, they’re handed off to a line of human slaves—men, women, and children dressed in rags—who heft the evil instruments across the cavern where hellion guards manned with sharp whips punish them for the slightest of infractions.

  Merciless bastards.

  Above all this, watching with a grin, a single demon in glorious armor sits upon a throne made of human bones. His face is like that of a gorilla’s, and his grey skin is thick and scarred. To his side, a pair of canisaurs—demon dogs the size of ponies—rummage through the carcasses of human remains, chewing on the tender meat and snapping at each other when one gets too close to the other.

  Staring at the demon, the size of it, its shiny armor tinted with streaks of purple and red, the infamous skull necklace that dangles against his plated chest, I realize in an instant who it is and what danger we face.

  Azafalia. The demon knight who led the attack on planet Fazon and ended the fabled Knights of Sorrow, those indelible warriors whose feats are almost as long as ours. It’s said that when he discovered the Arch Governor of the planet standing before his family with a blade in hand, he ripped his heart from his body and presented it to his wife and daughters as a “present to my new concubines.”

  Azafalia’s claw tightens around a golden leash, that’s connected to a young and beautiful girl lying on the ground at his side. With shoulder-length dark hair and short bangs, she reminds me of an ancient Egyptian beauty fit to be a pharaoh. But there’s nothing regal about her. Her skin is pale, and her round breasts are barely concealed beneath a strip of rag, and her short skirt is scarcely enough to reach her thighs. Her face twists in pain when the demon gives the leash a cruel yank.

  “What order is he?” Petronelous asks.

  Zorel lifts her head to steal a peek at the demon. “Third … I think.”

  “You think, or you know?” Atia asks.

  “Third,” she finally answers.
“Positive.”

  The role of hierarchy is not lost upon Zendal and his minions. They boast about position and rank just like we do, lauding their power over the less fortunate and abusing their privileges in every conceivable manner.

  First order knights are tremendous fighters, but they’re bruisers, savage fire breathers who are anxious to earn respect and rank. Second order knights are not only skilled fighters, but they’ve been rewarded with the gift of speed and precision. Third order knights, such as the one we face here, have all of that, including a special ability that makes them unique amongst their brethren.

  And that is the dilemma we face here. Everyone who has ever fought Azafalia, according to the texts, has died. And therefore no one is entirely sure what his secret power is. At least, no one alive, that is.

  “He would be difficult to defeat,” Atia admits evenly.

  “Agreed,” Petronelous says. “Not to mention the rest of his minions. I count at least twenty hellion guards. Not to mention the fat blacksmiths and canisaurs.”

  “What about any adjoining chambers?” Atia asks.

  Petronelous takes a moment as she looks around. “Can’t tell.”

  “Me neither,” Atia replies in frustration. She retracts her helmet, dissatisfied with the zoom of her screen and glances back at Chun Hei. “We need a better eye.”

  The crack sniper creeps forward as we make room for her, and she kneels before the lip of the balcony, taking her time as she examines the situation.

  “Only one exit,” she signs. “Toward the back. But nothing else.”

  “I could take the hellions,” Zorel says. “Maybe even the blacksmiths. But the dogs will be too quick.”

  “Don’t worry about the dogs,” Petronelous says. “I can take them.”

  “What about Azafalia?” I ask.

  I’m answered with silence.

  “I can take him,” Chun Hei finally signs, drawing a strange look from Zorel. “I can,” she insists. “Three shots to the face. In the very least, he’ll be stunned.”

  “Or pissed off,” Zorel says.

  “That could work,” I say, nodding. “In fact, it might just be the trick that gives us enough time to regroup and attack him as one.”