The Wicked Tower - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

“That’s all we told them, I swear.” Lars was a beaten man. He looked away as the youth dismounted his quivering wife.

“So, they know that we are having ‘servant issues,’ and that the sorceress is researching at Minerva Library.” Vel turned his back to the comatose woman on the bed and dressed. “But they know not of my relationship with my sister, mother, and cousin. Nor do they know that my father has been back to see us and is very likely hiding in Ostia Novus.”

“Yes, yes.” Lars nodded. “Now be done with Norbana. I must take her to an apothecary to protect her from being with child.”

“Well, that won’t work.” Dellia smacked Lars upside the head with her open palm. “The queens regent might not know those things yet, but …”

Vel nodded. “But when we release you, they will know them as quick as the pigeon flies.” He looked around the room. “Dellia. You and my sister will take this man down to a room in the cellar. I will watch after his wife, maybe lock her in one of the east tower rooms.”

“I will not.” Dellia stood tall. Or at least as tall as her Surround ancestry would allow.

“What did you say?” Vel hadn’t thought she’d say no. They had come so far in the last few weeks.

“I’ve patiently waited on guard duty while you fucked the Lady Norbana senseless.” She smacked Lars on the head before he could say anything in reply. “Quiet you.” She then looked back to Vel. “Your sister enjoyed herself well enough with a hand between her legs. But not me.”

Naevia blushed. It was true, she had cum several times as Vel had debauched the woman.

“You take Lord Lars to the cellar, Your Grace.” Dellia blinked up at Vel. “You leave him there until we decide what to do with him. I will find some accommodation for the Lady Norbana in the east tower … after I’ve had some fun myself.”

“I … um … didn’t know you fancied Norbana.” It was Vel’s turn to blush. This was an odd thing since they’d all watched him rut for the last several hours.

“If it’s to be the cellars, my wife will join me. And you’ll send an apothecary. We have rights under – ow!” Lars took another shot to his head from that martial woman. These northern animals were nothing but savages.

“Okay, fine. Do as you will, Cousin. But don’t harm her.” Vel stepped over to Lars and untied him from the chair. He reapplied the man’s gag and blindfold and bound his hands behind him. He then took Norbana’s dagger back from Dellia as his cousin undressed.

“I do not possess your mighty spear, Cousin. I shall be a good deal more gentle with her than you. Such are the rules of physics and biology, sexual dimorphism and such.” She dropped the last of her clothes and weapons and leapt onto the bed. Quickly, she turned the lady onto her side, straddled her ass, and undulated her pussy upon that round cheek. “She’s well proportioned. Aaahhhhhh … I needed this.”

Vel watched the spy lie on the bed as Dellia took her turn with her. He was pretty sure she’d never lain with a woman before. But she’d probably never had a man Vel’s size or a ‘northern mongrel’ before. So, it was a day of firsts for Norbana. On top of her, Dellia seemed to glow azure for a split second. Seeing the magic in his cousin, he wondered if he’d created another sorceress in Norbana. That would not be good. Maybe he should have considered the possibility before cumming in the Vulpes? Well, they’d cross that magical bridge if they got to it. He looked back at his other prisoner, and could see Lars grow red-faced as he shouted into his gag. Vel tried to look frightful and grim as he towered over the man. It was a stretch. “Your wife is fine. She has enjoyed herself plenty. And my cousin will take good care of her. Worry about yourself.”

“I’ll join, Vel.” Naevia smoothed out her stola where it was wrinkled from riding around her waist the last few hours. “Let’s drop him off and find Mother.”

“Yes, let’s.” Vel pushed Lars toward the door. “Lock her securely when you’re done, Dellia.”

“Yes … but I may not … be done … for some time.” Dellia’s hips moved faster.

“Very well.” Vel could hear the woman moaning under his cousin’s movement. The wife was clearly enjoying herself. He shrugged as he exited the room with his sister and prisoner. It was better than the spy deserved, that much he was sure of.

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Vel and Naevia locked Lord Lars securely away in the cellar. They found that their mother had already imprisoned Spurrius in another cell. It seemed things had progressed to a point where they could no longer tolerate spies. They would have to hope that the wedding was busy enough that a few missing guests wouldn’t be noticed. And that Dellia wouldn’t mind her husband absent from her bed.

Cassia trawled no other spies in her search of the castle. That night, Cassia, Vel, Naevia, and Dellia met in the council chamber. They sat around the table. It offered them all a moment to catch their breath. The wedding was almost upon them. Guests were to arrive the next day. Tents spread in the meadows around the castle. They had only to survive the wedding, allay the queens’ suspicions one more time, and then they could reassess. And maybe talk to Gallio in a way that would offer more than riddles laid upon conundrums.

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Long before the cockerel could call, Cassia rose from her bed. She was not one to sleep well in chaotic times, and Discordia was busier than usual. It was the time of day when even the corridor lamps idled, quenched and dark. She carried before her an oil lamp as she made her way to the kitchen. A quick bite and then off to check on the tents. She wondered if Vel and Naevia were in each other’s arms at that very moment. She fought against the impulse to check. And maybe to supplant her daughter in Vel’s bed. Such ecstasy would only serve her poorly with all their lives so delicately suspended over the abyss.

“Good morning, Your Grace. Or is it still evening? It’s hard to be sure.” Brynhild’s blithe voice floated through the air.

Cassia gave a start and turned on her heel. The sorceress stood just a few feet behind her. She had no lamp, and seemed to have appeared out of thin air. “It … it is morning.”

“I’ve been doing research.” Brynhild smiled and looked down at the dark woman. Of course, she was supposed to curtsy in such a situation. But she paid formality no heed.

“Yes, Vel told me. What did you find on the queens regent?”

“Not on them. I already know them well enough. On your son. Will you confirm a suspicion for me?” She took a step closer to Cassia.

“What suspicion?”

“Has he taken you, too?” Brynhild paused, and cocked her head at Cassia’s quizzical look. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should not be so coy. Has your son fucked you yet?”

“What?” Cassia licked her lips and looked up at the platinum haired woman. It had been a mistake keeping her at the castle. A terrible mistake.

“Has his cock tasted your pussy? Did he cum in you?” Brynhild reached for her duchess’s arm with her left hand. She was taking an awful risk. If she was wrong, azure light was about to place her on her butt again, and Cassia would be furious. But she was able to catch hold of the arm. It was warm, and solid, and devoid of magic. “Excellent. Now answer the question.”

A calm fell over Cassia. “His penis has not … tasted my vagina.”

“So, you haven’t fucked?” Brynhild arched her eyebrow in confusion. She’d been so sure.

“No, we have.” Cassia’s voice barely carried along the dark corridor. 

“So … then …” Brynhild smiled. “You took him up your ass? I’m impressed! You’re tougher than you look. Did he cum in you?”

“Yes.”

“How many days ago was the first time?” Brynhild thrilled at this inquisition. Things were so much easier when Hekate wasn’t involved.

“Four.”

“Right, right.” Brynhild shoved the duchess onto her butt. The lamp crashed to the floor and went out. Still, none of Pluto’s light. Brynhild ignited her own glowing orb above them. “How rude of me. Here.” She offered Cassia her left hand and helped her up. The sorceress did not release the hand. “Who else has Vel fucked? Specifically, who has he cum inside? Not some prude playing hard to get with her ass like you. I’m looking for a pussy. I’m trying to rule some things out.”

“Naevia. Dellia, I think. Also, Norbana.” Cassia blinked slowly at the pretty orb floating above them.

“Ah, Lady Norbana. Perfect. I’ll check in on her first.” Brynhild took her right index finger, placed it on Cassia’s chin, and turned her round face so that they looked into each other’s eyes. This was the tricky part, but not as tricky as it used to be. “You didn’t see me this morning. You tripped and fell, dropping your lamp. You’ll remember nothing of our conversation.” She let go of the duchess, her orb quenched itself, and blackness consumed them. Brynhild was gone.

“Damn, I dropped my lamp.” Cassia reached her hands out for the wall. She had nothing to spark the sconces all around her. She’d have to walk a while in the dark before she could find some light. She sighed. A rough day was off to a poor start. It was going to be a terrible day … or worse.

When she finally made it to the kitchen, she found it was worse. The women servants were there. They had gathered early as expected, getting ready for the coming wave of guests. But the men were not there. Cassia enquired, but the women knew nothing. She summoned the seneschal, who also knew nothing. She prayed she’d have a solution before Bantia learned of the new catastrophe. She ordered the women to spread out into the city and request the loan of servants from any family that could spare them.

She needed some relief, whatever the source. But Cassia could see the storm was only gathering its strength. She prayed to Minerva to give her the wisdom to survive the coming days. Get through the wedding, and then she could reassess … everything.

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A rushed and perilous journey by boat through the night led to towering cliffs. With dawn’s first breaking light, they made a harrowing climb up the scorpion’s trail, zigzagging to the palace walls. Nicias pushed himself harder than he thought possible. He and his comrades, a group of a dozen men, arrived right before midday. Just as they had planned. Nicias wasn’t sure whether his knees were shaking from fear or the climb.

The plan would work. He would soon take his wife home, and perhaps free a princess, too. On their own, they were nothing but a clutch of exhausted servants. But they weren’t alone. They had the power of a mighty northern sorceress behind them.

The heavy, studded oak door swung open and they were through, inside Accipiter Cubitum Palace.

“Go quickly, or it will be my head.” Their contact looked them over as he shut the door behind them. “Where do you go?”

“The Blessed Tower,” the duke’s footman, Proclus, replied. He clapped his cousin’s shoulder.

Their inside man looked like he enjoyed the mention of that place even less than the sight of them. “That is an evil building.” He spat on the pavement. “Good luck to you. If you leave by this door, I won’t lock it behind you. I was never here.” The man ran off down a narrow alley.

“Follow me, friends.” Nicias put his hand on the hilt of his sword, safely stored in its sheath, and jogged south. Brynhild had instructed him on the way over and over in the preceding days. They found the narrow tunnels and streets of the outer palace deserted. Nicias had been worried the place would be crawling with people. He had rehearsed his excuses for their presence over and over. The sorceress had planned their trip so well, they didn’t run into anyone all the way to the tower.

The Blessed Tower rose to the east of the main palace, nearly disappearing into the sky. Nicias slowed to a trot as they approached and stared up at it. The round building was encased in scaffolding, and there were pallets of stone blocks haphazardly placed in the courtyard. Very high up, he thought he could see workers scurrying about the outside of the thing. “Off to the side. Over here.” Nicias called his troop over. Standing by the front door, he could see the first royal guard with his crimson cape fluttering in the breeze.

Lucky for them, the sorceress had told them of another secret door in back. Nicias led his men into a space covered with broken timber, rendered steel, and cracked stone. They navigated the detritus, and he found the block he was to press. He pushed with his foot, and a door opened in the side of the tower. The masonry looked for a second like liquid, and then it was gone, leaving an arched entrance.

Once inside, they gave themselves the barest minimum of time to adjust from the searing brightness outside to the newfound gloom. The place was stark and barren, obviously not yet furnished. They found the stairs and climbed. The sorceress had bidden them rescue Princess Minicia first, and then circle back for Merope. But Nicias could wait no longer for his reuniting moment. They stopped on Merope’s floor, and fanned out in the hallway. At this point, the sound of drawing steel filled the dark, cloistered air.

The door was locked. With trembling fingers, Nicias pulled forth the charm Brynhild had given him for this moment. It was a simple bit of parchment with strange symbols burned onto the page. He placed it on the glossy, maple wood. The door swung in on hinges too new to creak. They all filed into the room quickly. They were in a large, barren entry space. There was a library to the left and another room to their right. That room had its doorway angled so that they could only see a patch of stone wall inside. A bank of windows ahead of them looked out far over the sparkling sea.

A sound like waves smacking against the shore greeted their ears. The room itself swam about them, as if it was there, but also not there. Nicias lowered his sword. Its point trailed behind him, gouging out a tiny path in the wood floor. The cadence of the slapping waves was familiar to him. There was another sound. A woman’s whimpering cry filled his ears. His wife’s voice roused him from the lethargy that had beset them all as they’d stepped into the room. With his comrades, he moved toward the room to their right.

The chamber came into view little by little, but it wasn’t until they had arrived almost at the door that he saw the thing that caused him to drop his sword with a clatter. A woman … a pretty woman … faced away from them, riding in a horrible sex act. His cheeks went pale as he stared. The cock was far too large and smooth. The woman’s vagina was obscenely spread on it with every thrust. The woman’s asshole gaped, like it had seen too much regular use. And she was clearly pregnant. That was not all. Nicias found his brain much too slow to take in everything the room offered. The woman rode another woman. As the sneering face looked out from behind the mounting woman’s heavy breasts, Nicias could see it was one of the queens underneath. “Who … what …?” he croaked.

“Oh, you made it.” Cesphea’s smile broadened when she saw the gaggle of scrawny men looking in. “We were beginning to worry. Weren’t we, Merope?”

“No …” Nicias rubbed at his eyes. It couldn’t be his Merope. This woman was impossibly pregnant. Not enough time had passed. Had it? And his wife would never … submit to such a horrid defiling.

“Say hello to the traitors of Ostia Novus, darling.” When the woman on top simply continued her riding, Cesphea slapped Merope’s ass. “Don’t be rude.”

“I … uh … uh … I had no choice … Nicias.” Merope turned her head and looked over her shoulder.

Nicias wobbled, teetered, and fell to the floor in a faint. His companions looked at each other. They had expected things might not go according to plan. Not one of them could have anticipated this horror. They wavered like their fallen comrade for a second, but then the courage of their northern sorceress entered their veins.     

When she saw her husband fall, Merope’s hips stopped. “Nicias,” she whispered. Then she saw the servants she knew so well from her time at the duke’s castle look at her with pure venom. The men then raised their swords and charged.

“Keep fucking, little bitch.” Cesphea slapped Merope’s tit, but could not get the woman to start her hips again. “Now would be a good time, Valeria.”

Valeria stepped out from behind the men. She had been standing next to the far wall of the chamber, and none had noticed her. She held up her hand coiled by a pale, pink glow. The attackers all stumbled and fell back from their charge on Cesphea. “It would have been easier to take them at the wall. And less death.” She stepped forward, her carmine mantle twirling around her. “You love drama too much, Sister.” Valeria’s scepter came down on a man’s head. He collapsed to the ground. She swung again and took the next man in the midsection. The greenish copper of the scepter blurred, and the bust of Salacia at the scepter’s head exacted cruel punishment on the man.

Seizing the moment of chaos, Merope pushed off the queen, and dislodged Cesphea from her worn pussy. She ignored Cesphea’s commands, and moved as quickly as her bulging belly would allow to the side of her unconscious husband. All around them were curses, cracks, and blows. She pulled Nicias back to the entry room, away from the fracas. Merope looked up and saw the door barred by three of the royal guard. There was no way out. One of the servants, a footman named Proclus, ran out of the carnage and stepped over Merope and Nicias. The guards pushed him away from the door, but did not otherwise engage him. The sounds died down behind them.

“Don’t tell me this was the best Duke Gallio could muster.” Valeria walked slowly into the entry chamber, her copper scepter thumping next to her with each step. “And why come for this trained bitch? What’s so special about her?”

“The former duke, Your Highness?” Proclus blinked at her and his face fell, like he’d only just realized where he was. Droplets of blood dotted his dark face and beard. He turned to face the queen. Behind her, he could see her sister. Or maybe not a sister. The cock stood out frightfully between her legs. He didn’t know what she was. But he did know she was wrong. All of it was wrong. “We came for Merope.” He looked down at Nicias and wished for his friend that he would never wake.

“What were you really sent here to do?” Valeria’s mantle was stained a deeper red in several places. She did not seem to mind. “You did not risk your lives for my sister’s plaything.” She pushed the man with her scepter to the wall, and then shoved the bust of Salacia up under Proclus’s chin. She looked into his eyes. “Oh, I see. You’re under enchantment.” She put her free hand on the man’s forehead and a pale red light passed from her touch to his head. “This is not your fault, is it?”

“No. We did come for Merope. And also, we were to rescue Princess Minicia.” Proclus found it hard to speak with the rough angles of metal pressing his throat.

Cesphea barked out laughter from the doorway. “Oh? So, you added another little errand while you’re out? Fetch the washing and … maybe … fetch the princess while you’re at it?” She yearned to go back to rutting again. She wanted to fuck before her blood cooled. This had played out almost perfectly. Her smooth cock swayed as she stepped toward Merope. “Who thinks our sweet princess needs rescuing?”

“The Sorceress Brynhild.” The words spilled from Proclus’s mouth.

“Well, that much is obvious, little man.” Valeria pressed the scepter tighter, forcing Proclus up onto his toes. “Does the duchess know of your errands? Or your puppy of a duke?”

“No,” Proclus croaked.

“He speaks the truth.” Valeria released the hidden spike at the top of her scepter. A crunching sound filled the room, and Proclus’s blood splattered out on the wall behind him. She withdrew the spike and the dead man fell to the floor. “Secure the last man for further questioning.”

The guard moved quickly across the room, lifted the unconscious Nicias, and carried him away.

“Nooooo!” Merope clutched at her husband but was pushed away. Then, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder. She was lifted into the air and that terrible and glorious cock was inside her again. Her mind let go of the horrors of the day as her hips met royal hips over and over.

“We should have finished Brynhild when we were there. But you wanted to gloat.” Valeria’s pale face twisted into a frown. Her skin was uncannily clean and unblemished by the day’s chores. “Can you not wait to satisfy yourself?” She shook her head as Cesphea bounced the woman, her hands gripping Merope’s butt. It was such an odd spectacle, this massively pregnant servant humping her queen, carnage all around. Valeria wondered if she would ever get used to it.

“You know I think better when I … ugh … fuck.” Cesphea’s cock practically melted in that once tight pussy. “The sorceress will hide now. We … uh … uh … need change no plans. Draw out Gallio.”

“But Brynhild is stronger than we thought.” Valeria strode over to the windows and looked out at the sails dotting the horizon.

“If relic towers rise on this … ugh … side of the sea. We worry.” Cesphea had to raise her voice to talk over Merope’s cries of pleasure. “Until then …”

“Our tower is almost complete.” Valeria nodded at her sister. It was now a matter of winding down the clock.

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“There is a ruined tower just inside the western city wall. I must show you something there.” Brynhild eyed her duke. It had been a stroke of luck finding him alone, erecting a tent outside the castle.

“I … I …” Vel shook his head, trying to clear it. The afternoon sun beat down on him. He needed water.

“I know you’ve experienced great pleasures with the gift I gave you. I have more gifts.” She tore her stola at the chest for him, exposing milky cleavage. Maybe the young man liked the look of a sow’s body. “Come with me.” She put her left hand on his arm. “I’ll show you brand new worlds. But we need to go to the ruined tower now.”

“Bantia … I have to help …” Vel’s muscles relaxed. He let the sorceress lead him away from the half-erected tent. 

“Vel? Vel?” Naevia’s sweet voice drifted to them from amongst the tents and pavilions.

“Shit.” Brynhild’s great height worked against her here. And so did Vel’s. She crouched down and hurried, pulling her duke faster.

“What’s going on?” Naevia stood before them. She was no bigger than a forest sprite, but possessed the fierceness of a mother bear. Her hands balled on her hips.

“Naevia.” Vel’s mind cleared. He wrenched his hand away from the sorceress. “She … she tried to compel me again.” He jumped back from Brynhild and circled over to his little sister.

“Banish her, Vel.” Naevia’s face took on an uncharacteristic darkness. “You’ve warned her enough.”

“I don’t know …” Vel paused.

“The queens regent mean you harm. Both of you. Your whole family.” Brynhild straightened her back, lifting herself up to her full height. She was now eye level with her duke. “I need the resources to protect you. You must take me in a place of lost magic. We must go to the fallen tower of Ostia Novus. That will give me strength beyond what the queens foresee.” She glanced at Naevia and then back to Vel. Coals burned in Naevia’s eyes. He was her only chance. “Your father will die at their hands if I do not protect him.”

“She means to fuck you in the ruined tower, Vel.” Disgust now competed with anger on Naevia’s face.

“She wants … your magic, Naevia. The azure light.” Vel thought things over as Brynhild watched him with pleading eyes.

“Banish her.” Naevia stood resolute next to him.

“If you truly want what you say, you had only to ask.” Vel sighed. “I would have considered it.”

“Ewwww.” Naevia spat on the ground.

“Yes, yes. I was tricked into this, too.” Brynhild nodded her platinum head. “But we can both make this work for us. And against our enemies.”

“I would have considered it,” Vel said. “But you lie and deceive. So, no.” He shook his head slowly. “Leave the castle. I give you one hour to collect your things. Any more mischief and you will face worse than banishment.” Vel hoped the tremble in his voice wasn’t noticeable.

“What?” Brynhild’s face snapped from entreaty to fury in an instant. The shadows cast by the tents around her lengthened and swirled. Even though it was early afternoon, she stood in a penumbra. “I have served your family for …” She stopped when she caught sight of the azure light building around Naevia. “I will go.” She turned, and disappeared quickly from view. The shadows lingered around Vel and Naevia, creeping slowly their way.

“Go with your mistress.” Naevia’s voice was steely. Her azure light flashed around them, and the afternoon sun returned. “That was wise, Vel.” She rubbed her legs together. “Let’s cleanse our pallet.” She grabbed his big hand and pulled him into the nearest tent. It was empty. She pushed him down onto the ground and tore at his robes and tunic.

“Maybe now is not the time. The wedding is almost here, I just banished our family’s oldest servant, and I … aaaaahhhhhh.” Vel let his head drop back to the earth as his sister pulled his cock from his clothes and placed her mouth around it. Why did the magic have to always rile her up so? “Maybe just a few minutes.”

Naevia sucked him for more than a few minutes. She then released him, pulled her stola to her waist, and mounted him. Reaching under her, she took hold of him and pushed her underwear to the side. She lowered herself. “That is … good.” She rocked her hips and felt the pressure of him push deep inside her. “I love you, Vel.”

“I love you, Naevia.” Vel meant it with all his heart. He stared at her loveliness as she bounced on him, working herself hard. He could see she was trying to speed things up so they could go back to helping out.

“She was right about … one thing.” Naevia’s copper hair fell over half her face. She watched her smiling brother with one eye. “We can … uh … uh … uh … make this work for us. We have something our ancestors never had. We don’t need a resident sorceress, Vel.”

“We … are … the magic.” Vel squeezed her hips tight.

“Yes … yes … yeeessssssssss.” Naevia humped down fiercely, listening to him grunt. She could feel his heat move through her. “Yeesss … cummmmmmm.” And her own orgasm launched to match his.

Continued in Chapter 17

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