Dare to Defy (17 page)

Draiken pushed a chair out of his way as he moved across the room to stare into the fire.

“I will not accept that. I refuse! You hear me?” he shouted up towards the heavens. “I
defy
you!”

“Draiken?” Daynel called sleepily from across the room. “Why are you shouting? Please don’t worry. I,” she yawned, nestling down in the pillows, “will take care of everything.”

“I apologize, my darling. Go back to sleep.”

“Come join me. I am cold,” Daynel murmured.

The Healer chuckled noiselessly, patting the startled man’s shoulder. “From the mouths of babes, wisdom spews. Trust her. Trust the gods. Trust yourself.”

“But Ilesbet…”

“She has faith, so must you.”

* * *

Ethan stood clothed in red, his arms raised to the dais upon which three drops of blood were carved. On the platform before him was a young woman whose glazed eyes stared at the stars, pupils dilated from the drugs he had slipped her in the wine they shared that evening. He lifted two giant, curved daggers to the sky, one in each hand, and began to chant the words of the Sacrifice…only his words were chanted in reverse. The sacred grove, designated as a place of peace where no weapon was to be brought nor was a hand to be lifted in violence, was now a place of execution. Starting fifteen years earlier, he had sacrificed his elder brother upon the altar. Five years later, the second eldest found his way upon the slab and his third brother five years after that. Now the woman, his young half-sister, was to meet her death. Except for the king, there was none who shared his blood left alive to take the throne. His greed had led him to make an oath with the Darkness, and to satisfy its craving for royal blood every five years until Ethan was the only survivor of the royal lineage. With the death of his bastard sister, only his father remained. And that particular sacrifice would secure him power to take both the southern and the northern kingdoms in full. With the death of the king, he no longer needed to be the successor of his father’s throne through marriage and impregnating the whore from the north. No, he would just take what was rightfully his and be rid of those who bothered him like annoying gnats on a summer’s day.

The shaman joined the prince in his chanting, ignoring the heads that bowed to the ground, each with a small center portion of their scalp skinned away and tattooed in red. Hidden by hair and headwear, no one noticed the burned scar tissue on the edges of these wounds, or that each disappeared from their homes the first night of a new moon to pray to Death.

Ethan turned to the sound of crying and squatted down to look into the face of a follower.

“Why do you cry on the night of celebration?” he demanded.

“I beg all pardon, your lordship,” the feminine voice answered. “I regret that I did not know the Darkness before the death of my child. He was just an infant and she….She refused to bring healing to him!”

“She could not because her gods are weak and have no compassion. Our god,” Ethan stood, his voice rising to be heard, “has compassion. This one sacrifice will save all his followers five years free from death. No one here shall die, for we have been spared because of the gift of blood given us by a willing believer! You!” He turned to the woman tied to the altar, noticing her eyes frantically jerking back and forth. “Do you believe? Will the god of Darkness save his people from the shadow of death in payment for your life? What? Ahh…she whispers, yes!” Ethan pretended to hear words coming from the woman’s lips.

He lifted the daggers again into the air, chanting the backwards Runes loudly in repetition. He was joined by a chorus of followers, hundreds of people who had come that night to see the desecration of another sacred grove, which weakened the strength of all. He began to weave the daggers above his head, painting Runes in the blank canvas of the starry sky. The chanting grew, the words vibrating through the empty countryside and lost in the open sea. Ethan began to sway, his rotund body undulating in the ebb and flow of the incantation, the daggers’ edges reflecting the light of the torches that encircled the holding. The victim began to cry, enough sensation returning to her body that she could blink her eyes and mouth words begging mercy. Ethan’s blades hypnotized her, their movements large and captivating. Time slowed as the blades whirled faster, writing their demands in the air, shattering screams from them demanding the price. The woman’s eyes widened as the daggers paused above her, just before plunging together into the center of her ribcage. She screamed as the blades erupted in fire and Ethan slowly separated them, tearing her body into a right and left half.

He reached into her chest cavity and removed her still beating heart, holding it up for the worshippers to witness. He bellowed one last chant and threw it to the ground where it burst into a blue flame and turned to ash. He nodded to the assistants of either side of him to fulfill their purpose. The worshippers lined themselves up on either side of the altar so that they might taste the blood of the sacrifice. Ethan smiled, appraising the length of the lines as being nearly the same, for those from the southern kingdom stood on the right and those from the north stood to the left. Yes, the north would be his for the taking very soon. Just as soon as the high priestess shed her blood for the sake of her weak, pathetic gods.

* * *

Daynel drifted between the lands of the living and the lands of the dead, frowning as she carefully stepped along the narrow path. The path grew ever narrower, making her fearful that she would fall. She called out for Draiken, but he was not answering. This was her journey to take alone, he had told her. She would know what to do if she allowed her heart to lead her.

The journey had begun with her permitting the placement of the first Rune, a brand of the ever-living circle upon the upper left breast, above her heart. Two weeks had passed since the day of her testing and Daynel was tired of complying with the dragon priest’s orders. For sport, she began to defy him, to test his limits and his patience. She had learned to sense his power and quickly block it, thus ripping from him the ability to punish her from a distance. Draiken did not take this maneuver lightly and had angrily stormed upon her, grabbed her arm and sent her lying across the span of his knees before the yard of witnesses. Daynel screamed her objections, pinned thoroughly in place with one massive arm across her back. Draiken added to her indignities by lifting the edge of her tunic and peeling down her leggings to expose the once-again milky white flesh.

A green switch flew into his hand on command of his power and he laid that switch cleanly across the globes, pleased to see a bright red stripe appear from where it had struck. The switch rebounded off the firm cheeks, appearing excited after it had made first contact. Daynel released her usual yowl of frustration, trying desperately to think of something the man deserved that she could deliver. Her plans were as disheveled as her hair, for the switch fell in rapid tempo, leaving behind an impression of intent to change her manners and teach her respect. The switch did not grow weary or bored as it reinforced the lesson of self-control and proper behavior.

“There is a time and a place, young lady,” Draiken said calmly as the switch effortlessly marked her bottom and upper thighs with long, red streaks, “for your games. This is neither! You must grow up and take responsibility of your destiny! This punishment will continue until you enter the Gates of Heaven, but I will not lend you aid. This is your journey. One that your heart must lead you through.”

“Draaaaaaaiken, I beg youuuu,” Daynel sobbed, the fire in her bottom growing unbearably hot. “I shall show myself worthy to you! Please…”

Draiken surrounded the two of them with air, making the world mute to her cries and promises. He knew many people watched, some in horror, others in fascination, as he presented the Journey of Choosing to the young woman via her backside. Unwilling to break her skin with the switch, Draiken replaced it with his heavy, callused hand after forcing her thighs to spread wide apart to allow him sight of her pink, fleshy treasures. The change caused Daynel to scream anew, again begging his mercy. Mercy was a word unknown, for even the laxest smack of his hand anywhere around her bare bottom and open thighs raised a tongue of flame upon the scarlet embers of the growing ache within her.

“I am truly sorry!” she sobbed, clinging to his legs, unable to struggle against his discipline any longer. “It was wrong of me to be rude and defy you before the others. I have learned my lesson!”

“Just the others?” Draiken asked, the claps of his palms roasting the under curve of her back end, the scent of her arousal causing his manhood to stir uncomfortably. “Surely, a properly disciplined young woman would aspire to a state of purity and clarity above such sordid bodily responses. Do you deny that you desire me?”

In truth, Daynel felt no guilt for her arousal, admitting in the midst of her tears that there was not a more natural or reassuring place than across this man’s lap. Her answer was lost in quieting sobs as uncommon sleepiness and deep tranquility began to claim her, causing her to float on the pain and detach her mind from what was happening to her body. The spanking became a lover’s caress, the key to open the lock so that she could enter through the Gates of Heaven.

Daynel felt anger well within her as she saw the road before her dwindling to nothing, yet the two worlds on either side stayed distinctly separate. Carefully, she sat, letting her legs dangle on either side of the road. As she touched both worlds, a surge of power leapt into her body and she lifted her arms, now glorious wings of a Night Hawk, to the sky above. She flapped her wings and rose high, lifting her body and her essence toward the shining sun, bursting with joy as she experienced true freedom. Higher and higher she flew until the world seemed but a dot amongst the billions of stars around her. She soared, drifting in the emptiness of space. Alone.

Her joy left her as suddenly as it had come. She was alone. There was none there to share the joy of freedom with her. Where was Draiken? She began to call out for him, panic arising when there was no answer. The Darkness was closing in and she felt despair replacing the joy.

“Daynel? Awaken, my love,” his voice gently called to her from a thousand leagues away. “Follow my voice. Come back to me. You flew too high. Come back…”

Daynel closed her wings around her body, suspended in nothingness. She could hear him call to her, but was unable to follow the direction from which his voice sounded. The Darkness closed in tighter, pressing against her, suffocating her.

“Daynel…Close your eyes. Hear with your heart. Obey me.”

I’m lost! It is trying to kill me! Daynel cried out, panic setting in. She held her wings tighter against her body, the sound of her beating heart surrounding her in the vacuum of space and time.

“My darling,” Draiken sighed, aware that she had gone too far. “Be still. I will come for you.”

In the natural world, he pulled the still form of the young woman into his arms and carried her gently from the sacred grove and to his chambers. He laid her upon the bed and began to kiss her lips, gently pressing his own to her eyelids. He began to chant the Runes of Flight, entreating upon the gods to allow him the power to retrieve the girl. He felt a wall between them and fear began to grow in his heart. There was something terribly wrong in the heavens!

“Take me to her!” he shouted. “I demand you allow me to pass!”

The gods did not respond and the wall grew taller. Cursing, Draiken roared his outrage. This was not the time to take her! Not like this! He looked at her paling face, the panic of her surreality taking a toll upon the body that lay unconscious in the real world. She did not awaken to his pleas and, decision made, Draiken released his growing cock from his leggings and descended upon her.

“Please forgive me that I must take your maidenhood in this manner, my love. But I know no other way to bring you back than to meld with you,” he whispered to her still form. He spread the knees apart and gently kissed the parted lips of her sex, relieved to see she was still drenched with her arousal from the spanking he had administered. Draiken reached his hands under her bottom, raising her hips to meet him, and carefully guided the tip of his bulbous member to her unprepared entrance. Tears rose in his eyes as he tried to coax himself into her, meeting resistance as her maidenhead guarded her virtue. He lifted a prayer and lunged himself deep into her body.

Daynel’s eyes opened wide in pain and shock as the assault forced her to rejoin the present world. Realization of what had happened replaced the terror in her eyes and she screamed for him to remove himself, pounding his broad shoulders with her fists. Draiken buried his face into her neck, his shaft buried deep in her tight entrance, and waited as she began to weep uncontrollably. He lifted his face to look at her, and then very slowly began to move inside her slick tunnel.

“I must finish,” he said hoarsely, seeing her look away from him. “I have to pour my seed into you to keep you from leaving me again. I must make you mine for all eternity.”

Daynel said nothing, her heart aching with betrayal. How could he have done such a horrendous act? Whatever his reason, he had forced himself upon her when she was in a vulnerable state. It had been nothing like the exchange they had shared in the dream world. She felt disgusted by his presence and ignored the dizzying rush of electricity as his power joined with hers. She felt his body stiffen as he filled her with his hot cum, forcing herself to refuse admission that the pain of his invasion had settled and was slowly becoming an ache of longing. Draiken collapsed on top of her, breathing into her throat. Her pulse quickened as his hand gently brushed her breast while he rolled to his side, tucking her securely under his arm.

“I hate you,” she whispered. “On more levels that I can count, I hate you.”

“I know you are angry, but something happened that kept you from returning to our present world. Save your hate for me for later and tell me, while it is fresh, what occurred?”