Stations of the Tower - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Into every generation there is born a beast. And circumstance
shall dictate if the beast shall save the world. Or doom it.

The Prophet Almannin
CY 61253

Ki'a was a servant girl. Born the child of a servant girl and a soldier, she was easily overlooked and quickly forgotten as a child. Dark of hair and skin, light of eye, she was not unique by a long shot. She looked like any of a thousand other servant girls in the palace, laden with laundry or dishes, she scurried around the back halls of the great princes palace at the edge of the Mohaine desert. It was the site of the last great oasis before the deadly dry sands went on forever, it was said. None who ventured into the sands ever returned.

None knew where the palace had come from, it had been there as long as any could remember, a vast, insurmountable edifice that looked over the white sands and could be seen an eternity away. It was said that all within sight of the Princes Tower was under the dominion of the palace. One could travel in a straight line for a week and a day and still see the great tower where it stood at the edge of the valley. All the way from the Mohaine desert to the Sunspire mountains, the tower of the princes could be seen.

But this tale isn't about the Palace, or the great tower, or even the vast and lethal Mohaine desert. It was about an often overlooked servant girl, who was no different than any other servant girl in the hundreds or thousands that worked day and night in the palace. She grew from babe to child in a carrier on her mothers back in the palace, and from child to teen fetching soaps and such for her mother in that palace, and from teen to young woman there. Working beside her mother and it was as a young woman, lovely and dark as so many other young women were lovely and dark, that she caught the eye of a young man.

And he was not just any young man. He was a prince. Some day this entire palace, and all within sight of the great Princes tower, would be his to rule. As his father before him and his father before him, and his father before him for in that land, and in that time, blood was thicker, than water. But not more precious. In that time, blood dictated the lineage of rulers, and the lineage was longer than the great Princes Tower was tall.

And the princes in that time, secure in their power, within the great palace, had begun to grow arrogant. The palace was unassailable. For there was little water within reach of the palace for twenty miles in any direction. And none for as far as man could travel across the Mohaine. And beneath the palace were the great cisterns, more water than the great lakes in the Sunspire Mountains. It was an inexhaustible source of water. And it was the true wealth of the young prince. For on his eighteenth birthday, all the water in the great cisterns became his. Other wealth in the palace was that of his father, but the water, the true wealth of the empire, was his. And the greed and power that already kindled in his heart grew a thousand-fold on that day, when the great silver key that unlocked the cisterns was placed about his neck.

And it was on that day he noticed Ki'a. she was eighteen herself, young and lovely, just coming into the flower of her womanhood. She was slight and willowy as all women in that land were, and did not posses the greater curves and more pendulous breasts of the women from the Northland, with their golden hair and long legs. But in this land, between valley and desert, she was a gem. And one easily overlooked in a sea of similar stones. But the prince, Sithar by name, had an eye for gemstones. And Ki'a caught his eye. He smiled when he saw her, and sought to make a conquest of her.

One eve as she entered a room, from which an important aristocrat had departed, Sithar came upon her alone. She bowed and made proper servitude to the prince, waiting for him to allow her to return to her work. She was nervous, for the price was lovely to her eyes, slightly androgynous in face and shape, he was graceful and courteous bidding her rise.

"Rise, girl, do not allow me to distract you from your work, by any means. Tell me only your name, lovely child." His voice was smooth, like velvet or wine in her ears, and she found herself blushing as a tingle stole over her skin.

"I am called Ki'a, my prince. Daughter of Shallah and Kierian." The flush crept over her skin and she found herself unable to look up at the prince. Knowing his blue eyes were upon her, but not being, herself, of an age considered appropriate for marriage, not for another full year, she did not understand such a look. He, for his part, felt a momentary pang of conscience. But he quickly stamped it down. But it is important to mention it, for credit should be given where credit is due. Then he made his loveliest smile and reached out to turn her face up to look at him, eye to eye.

"Tell me then, daughter of Shallah, light of the eyes of Kierien, how many summers have you seen?" He knew full well the effect his smile and his eyes had on women. And he used it to full effect here.

"Eighteen, my prince." She said to him, the flush creeping further along her neck and cheeks, and her hands clasped behind her, fighting the urge to touch him, to feel his warmth and softness. His hand released her cheek and he nodded, leaving her then. She felt a few deep breaths hitch in her chest as he walked away, but quickly returned to her work, knowing that this would take her mind off of her inappropriate thoughts of her prince. Wishing that his lips would kiss her, that his hands would touch her, that his weight would press her into this very bed.

As I have said before, she was an innocent girl, unadorned by the tattoos of a house or name, the prince had a family name, Kirashe, but as an unwed woman, Ki'a had merely her name, and that of her parents, to give. The prince, with the rising sun sigil in the center of his forehead, would want for nothing. She would likely wed a soldier, or a servant, or a craftsman, if she were lucky, and bear him a child or three. But the thoughts she had, the tingling in her breasts and thighs, the flush and the shake in her hands, this was a mystery to her.

It was several weeks before he returned to see her again, his lust firmly in hand, he meant to have her. She was again high in the great Princes Tower, cleaning a room that had been recently vacated, and as she stood, looking out over the great soft feather bed that she had just finished changing. She felt warm, smooth hands on her arms, strong and slender, she gasped as she was pulled back against the princes body. He was wearing the silken robes of his status, and she was in the kidskin garment that all servants of the house wore. It had a line of horn buttons up the front, keeping it closed over her bare skin underneath. She felt her breath coming a little faster, that tingling coming back to her breasts and thighs, and a new feeling. It was a tightening across her chest, her nipples, already sensitive as they grew, were hard and tight in the garment, forcing a moan of pleasure from her.

"My... my prince..."

She managed to gasp out as his lips found her neck, one hand momentarily leaving her arms to move her long hair out of the way, then tilting her head to the side. his mouth was hot where it kissed her, and his hand slipped down her neck, across her collarbone and down her front, brushing across her sensitive nipples. She flinched, her breath catching in her throat and her eyes rolling back at the wave of pure pleasure that rolled over her. Her hands moved, back, to rest on his thighs as his hand, moving down her front, opened her buttons, one by one.

As his hand released them, the buttons, already straining from her posture and her most recent growth spurt, spread to reveal the clean, dark skin beneath the kidskin garment. His hand slipped within, cupping and caressing her right breast, his thumb circling her hard, dark nipple once as he moved his other hand up her arm, and slipped the garment free, baring her shoulder. Where his mouth quickly moved and kissed, she gasped again at this, one hand going over his hand on her breast. Holding him to her tightly, arching her back to press against his fondling hand more and pressing her round, slender backside against him, feeling something pressing against the cleft of her rear.

As his hands moved to slip the garment from her other shoulder, and then down, and off of her arms, she took her breath in great, deep gulps, and bit on her lower lip. His hands both coming to her breasts and holding them, caressing her in ways she did not know. And somewhere in this moment of seduction, in this perfect ruse of lust and desire, something in him changed. Effected by her innocence and her warmth, he changed. He turned her to face him and kissed her on the lips, covering her mouth with his and pulling her against him. Her mouth was warm, inviting, tasting of cinnamon and chamomile, and befitting how lovely she was.

And her flesh under his hands, warm and soft, cool and firm by turns, her breasts filled his hands, but little more, her nipples, dark and hard, were impossible to ignore as he kissed her, they pressed against his chest. He had lain with women before, foreign dignitaries brought lovely concubines as gifts, slave girls whose whole lives had been given over to pleasure, and how to make love to a man with her eyes, her mouth, and all of her body. But this was different, a seductive song of innocence that had called him to her.

He laid her back on the bed and looked down upon her, her eyes were closed and a single tear leaked from the outside of each as he watched. She was lovely, perfect as he gently slipped the garment off of her and set it aside, leaving her before him in nothing more than her hair and the single ring in her navel. He slipped the robes from his shoulder then, allowing them to fall to the floor as he looked down upon her.

He lay across her on the bed and she welcomed him with her arms, her mouth offered for his kiss, which he gave, again tasting that sweet confection upon her tongue as his mouth opened to her, and hers to he. His hands explored her, from the soft, downy hair of her pubis, to the round swell of her breasts, diminished with her position, but no less lovely, his mouth could resist no longer. He took one between his lips, suckling at it for a moment, the taste, of salt and fruit, was seductive, as were the sounds of her moans, her breath and her gasps as he touched her with his self. The scent of her arousal, mixed with the faint smell of the rose soap that the fresh sheets of the bed had been washed in. The feel of her, firm, yet yielding as he explored her, a touch of sweat across her from nervousness, the slick feel of her juices as his hands first parted, then caressed her thighs, and the warm, inviting place that lie between.

But most seductive of all was the very sight of her. Many were the prices; his father had been one, that sought the gem from afar, where Sithar himself saw the apple outside his door. And he found he could not simply take her, as was his right as prince. All belonged to him, she among the hundreds of other serving girls in the palace. The sight of her there, soft curves, log angles and lovely muscles played under her skin as she shifted on the bed, opening herself to him, offering herself to him, giving herself to him. She was so lovely and perfect, so pure and dark, from her nipples, barely bigger around than the tip of his finger, to her slender legs and fine toes, her strong arms and delicate fingers. And all in the center, the valley of her navel, just above the downy fluff of her pubis. She was there, open to him, his for the taking. And he found that while he was able, his flesh had risen to the task and his manhood throbbed with desire for her, he could not.

He wrapped her in his arms, kissing the tears of fear and nervousness from her eyes and sighed. Then he stood and offered her a hand up. As she stood, he smiled. As I have mentioned, he knew that his smile could have an effect on women, the young ones especially, and this was one time he did not use that smile. And she thought it was the most lovely smile she had ever seen. Her heart ached at the sight of this smile. Then he spoke, and his words called to her in a way that she had never known.

"Ki'a, daughter of Shallah, light of the eyes of Kierien, I wish to court you, as a man should a woman, before he may lie with her. Will you carry this message to your father, that he might meet with me, and discuss dowry and titles?" He knew that her father would stripe her backside if he sent her with nothing more than a light head from seduction and a few words, so he traced a moment over a tattoo on his right arm, then clasped his right hand with hers. The slight sorcery in the ink carried it over to her arm, adjusting it slightly to her build. If she said no, that she did not wish to be courted, as was the right of any woman, the tattoo would fade and be lost forever. It was a heart tattoo, given normally from prince to bride on the eve of their wedding. But there was no disputing the truth or validity of it. And she nodded, a shocked look upon her face.

Continued in Chapter 2