The Fire Inside Read online

  The third man now maneuvered his pulsing erection to Visandra's mouth, and she licked the tip briefly, but seemed to be struggling to match the rhythm of the man between her legs. The brutish brunette slowed his grinding to give her the chance to take the other man's cock firmly in her mouth, and she obliged. Now he fucked her slowly as Vis stroked and sucked the other man, and Alexa couldn't focus on any feeling deeper than craving, the desire to be with Vis, sucking and fucking these strange men, feeling her wetness, tasting her as the blonde had done. Alexa's sex throbbed to the point of discomfort, the warm inside dripping with the cold waterfall twisting around her lips. She reached down and cupped her pubis, moaning without intending to let out a sound. Her eyes flicked across the orgy as she began to pleasure herself, her arms and legs shaking from the cold but her insides bursting with sexual energy. She bit her lip to keep the sounds of ecstasy from leaking out and focused on her friend's nakedness.

  “There, there, that's it,” Vis moaned in the clearing, and just the hint that she was approaching orgasm brought Alexa closer to her own climax. “Yes, that's it. Fuck me!” Alexa's hand moved faster as she witnessed her friend's euphoria. The man grinding into her picked up the pace, forcing the other man’s cock out of Visandra's mouth. Vis stared at the man she had been sucking, nodding her head as she grabbed his penis, pumping his erection with renewed vigor. Her enthusiasm clearly encouraged him, and his hips bucked towards her as he shot a stream of thick white fluid across her hand, chin, and neck. Oh my God! Alexa couldn't contain her excitement. She'd never seen a man orgasm, and it was amazing. She groaned, bit her lip again, and came hard into her hand, crumpling into a ball at the foot of the splashing water. She shielded her pubic mound from the cold water and her own desire as the action reached an apex down below. The muscular man and Vis were grinding and groaning at each other, and she cried insistently at him.

  “Fuck me, fuck me, make me yours!” She cried as he pushed into her. “I'm coming!” Her words encouraged him to thrust harder and faster, and suddenly his muscular body shook and he pulled his hard cock out of her wetness, stroking it until he fired a volley of semen onto her belly and breasts. Alexa felt herself smile, but fought off the emotion as soon as she heard the blonde laughing and encouraging her friend.

  “That's it, rub that cum into your skin. Make it part of you,” the blonde Druid said, “and become one of us.”

  Alexa sat, stunned, and hoped this was all just a bad dream. A strange, awful, terrible dream.

  Chapter 2. The Bishop

  As hurt as she was by Visandra's secret, jealousy wasn't the root of Alexa's betrayal. Anger boiled in her chest as she hiked the long path back to her cramped quarters in the upper district, imagining that Vis knew she was trapped, cold and miserable, while she worshipped the earth god and the bodies of the hated Druids. With each step she was more certain that only Master Zafir would know how to handle the deception, how to shock Vis back into reality. His power was immense, his leadership unquestioned. If he focused those piercing silver eyes on Vis and demanded her allegiance, she could not possibly remain with the earthers. Alexa had only seen the bishop on a few occasions by happenstance, but had never had cause to speak with him, and might have fainted outright if he made a request of her. This cause was too great, though. She could not allow her friend to continue even another day with the Druids, for fear she would lose her forever. No, Alexa thought, I will climb the Spire and show my devotion to our beliefs and to to my friend. And maybe, just maybe, Alexa found herself hoping, Master Zafir will reward me.

  By the time Alexa reached the outer chambers of the Spire it was past dinner time, and the moon shone brightly behind the tall, grand tower. She was certain Master Zafir would be meditating in his chambers, as he encouraged all of his followers to do. It was a risk approaching the bishop during his meditation, but Alexa was naturally soft of foot and trained to move through snapping branches and rustling leaves without disturbance, so she hoped to reach his room without alerting any of the lesser Masters. Her progress was surprisingly swift, as those tasked with guarding the halls were easily distracted by a quick toss of a pebble taken from one of the many pockets of her uniform.

  She wistfully remembered sneaking quietly into the Grand Library with Vis, a night when they pored over the ribald texts and salacious paintings that the Masters kept hidden away in a musty gallery overlooking the garden. Their laughs had echoed into the darkness until a Master archivist came to see who was causing the ruckus, and they leapt into the garden and escaped without detection, holding hands and sprinting through the hedgerow. There would be no easy escape into the waiting brush this night, as Alexa had nearly reached the top of the Spire. Each casement revealed the ground further and further below.

  In a rush Alexa was at Master Zafir's chamber. As second thoughts began to rush in, she pushed through the splendid cherrywood door and into the bishop's room. No turning back. The opulence of his bedroom was overwhelming to the orphaned girl, a massive, grandiose apartment adorned with the finest fabrics, the rarest of artifacts, and a huge four-posted bed placed in front of the largest fireplace Alexa had ever seen. The hearth was decorated with runes and carvings that she could not decipher, secrets only the Masters held, and the cavernous stonework of the furnace was easily capable of roasting an entire steer. Not that this ornamental masterwork would be used for cooking dinner – Alexa suspected that this fireplace was where the majority of Zafir's spell casting took place. Next her eyes sought and found the balcony Zafir stood to harness the Inferno, and she gasped when recollecting the grandeur and beauty of the burning maelstrom that lit the night sky.

  She snapped out of it, wondering where the bishop was, and realized there was an entire antechamber off to her right. Quickly and quietly she moved in that direction, half-stepping on the sides of her small, delicate feet. Her soft leather boots pawed across the floor, leaving drops of moisture behind, and Alexa suddenly realized she had left an indistinct damp trail on her journey up the spire. She cursed her stupidity. I have to speak with him before I'm caught. My story will fall on deaf ears if he thinks I'm just trying to distract from my own misdeeds. As she reached the smaller room, she saw that it was sunken into the floor, featuring a large bathing pool swirled with steaming water. The luxuriousness was unreal to the young woman, whose entire bedroom would fit easily into the dimensions of this scalding tub. Alexa's attention was pulled away as she focused on the opposite side of the pool, making out a seated figure through a copious amount of steam. It was Master Zafir, naked and cross-legged in the foggy candlelight, with his hands poised in midair, a meditative stance taught to each of the Masters. She looked down sharply, having only briefly seen his chest and legs, and nothing more salacious.

  “Why have you come?” his voice boomed loudly, and Alexa's gaze shot back up. His eyes remained closed, his position unaltered. “If you're an assassin, I fear you not, and have killed many of your kind. If you're a lover, I want you not, for my gratification is not of this world. I am not a creature to be viewed for pleasure, nor am I to be trifled with.”

  “Master Z-Zafir,” the words stumbled from her instantly dry lips, “I come with grave news . . .”

  His eyes flicked open, lizard-like, and he positioned his hands atop his knees.

  “You are a girl,” he interrupted, “An Apprentice? No, a Collector, by your attire. Tell me your story, and be concise, before I have you removed.” With the bishop's disapproval, Alexa's mind had slowed to a crawl, the words sticking in her brain like cold honey. She struggled to regain her composure.

  “Master, I come with grave news about one of your Apprentices,” her voice choked up, “my best friend.” Uncertainty took control and she tried to gauge his reaction through the fog. She soldiered on despite seeing no reaction. “Visandra of Jarken has taken an interest in earth magic . . . the Druids.”

  Like a shot Zafir stood and pulled on his robe in one practiced motion, his long limbs moving around the pool and in her di
rection. Alexa stood her ground.

  “This is the grave news? This betrayer? Has she died?” His words didn’t seem to mock her, and he may have shown genuine concern if he was capable of such an emotion.

  “N-no, Master. But she must be returned to the one true power before she is lost.” She stumbled her reply as he seemed to float into her space. He was tall, at least a head and a half taller than Alexa, with a long body and arms. She stared at his skin, waxy with perspiration, his thin beard and mustache dripping with moisture. She had never been this close to such a powerful man, but he was only a man, and she briefly imagined his sweaty body pressed against hers.

  “Has she defected?” He continued. “Or does she remain within the Spire?”

  “She is here, Master,” Alexa replied, “and does not know that she is revealed. I only happened upon her infidelity this evening, and came directly to you, only you, to beg for your compassion. She is young and foolish, but has respect and love for the Spire.”

  “Love for the Spire?” Zafir's eyes lit with anger. “All who consort with Druids have only love for each other and the spoils of the ground. They are infected by desires that can only be healed by the burning power of the Iron Forge, encased forever in the earth they worship by the fire that granted all of us life. Tell me, girl, do you believe that fire is the element of creation?”

  “Absolutely, Master,” Alexa nodded her head vigorously, “I long prayed to become an Apprentice myself, and love that my best friend was accepted to your order. I live for the Spire and provide all the reagents I am asked, and more.”

  “You beg for compassion for your friend yet admit she doesn't truly accept the fact that fire is the element of creation.”

  “No, Master,” Alexa now shook her head, “I believe she is suffering only from self-doubt and curiosity. She can be reclaimed if she feels your strength and compassion. She is my friend, I swear this to be true.”

  Zafir leaned in low to look Alexa directly in the eyes, his gaze unflinching, his neck serpentine, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. No, that would be ridiculous . . . but she wanted him to kiss her. He was handsome. Long and lean, with sharp features that demanded her attention.

  “Do not tell your friend that you revealed her. I have decided that she will not face the Iron Forge, but her punishment will be as serious as her disbelief in the one true power. She will face the humiliation of the stocks, and should she survive, we will begin again.”

  Alexa's head dropped as she realized she had doomed her friend to a long, slow death.

  Chapter 3. The Stocks

  It had been three days since Visandra's public shaming began, and while she wasn't the first to be sentenced to the stocks in Alexa's time at the Spire, it was definitely the first time the young girl paid much attention to the barbaric process. The first day began with the constant toll of the Spire's bell, a crude announcement that something notable was taking place in the courtyard, which eventually brought most of the Spire's denizens. At noon of that first day her sins were cried by one of the lesser Masters, and she was brought out to a series of hisses and catcalls. Alexa had watched from the back of the courtyard, so she heard very little of the diatribe, but it was clear that the crowd was firmly against her friend. Vis was lashed tightly to a massive felled tree, chosen symbolically to represent her fall from grace, and she watched silently as carpenters sawed away at the huge log, using the wood to construct what would be her prison.

  The crowd dissipated as the sun climbed in the sky and Vis began to hang like a rag doll from her bonds. All day long the workmen chopped and hammered at the mass of wood, reconstructing it into a rectangular lockbox with holes for Visandra's hands and her head, and affixing the torture device to the stones of the courtyard. It was a somber proceeding, and well represented the seriousness of her offense. For a few fleeting moments Alexa wondered what became of the stocks when the punishment was finished – they didn't re-use them, after all, but this brought back a forgotten memory of a wizened old mage's corpse decaying in his stocks. She recalled the man had grown quite insane as a result of the punishment, but she could not remember just what he had done. It was surely something less than Visandra's betrayal . . . perhaps he disagreed about a philosophical aspect of the Spire's teachings or had refused to take part in the required meditations. The leadership of the Spire took great umbrage to those openly questioning the faith, preferring to cut out the cancer of the uncertain before they infected the rest of the Guild.

  At dusk the stocks were finished, the lashes loosed, and Vis collapsed to the ground, hungry and sunburnt. Offenders were allowed only water as sustenance, given at two intervals, six o'clock in the morning and evening. Once bound in the stocks, the punishment was long and humiliating. Each member of the order that took offense at her crime would approach and request the offender’s allegiance. The criminal would beg their forgiveness, ask for their blessing, and repeat the mantra “Without fire we would be nothing, by fire we can destroy all, through fire we will live forever.” Some of the elder Masters and nonbelievers would use the crime as an excuse to deliver physical punishment, which the accused would not simply endure, but thank them for and ask their forgiveness. It was brutal and humiliating, and Alexa was aghast at opening her friend up to such a horrifying experience.

  Once in the stocks, the accused remained until it was believed that their repentance was complete or they simply died from starvation or exposure. Alexa knew of one occasion where an offender had their throat slit, presumably out of mercy by a friend or family member. The harsh reality was that once in the stocks, only the gods could save you, and they were the same gods you had offended to be placed there. Alexa had sobbed uncontrollably into the morning the first night of Visandra's punishment. Seeing her friend so lifeless and miserable tore at her heart; knowing she had placed her in the stocks battered her mind. To do it again, would she have walked into that clearing, begged for Visandra's allegiance, changed her mind about the Druids? Her embarrassment at being naked and alone in the Angular Wood had now become shame for turning against her best friend.

  But what was done was done. Three days in, Alexa was determined to help her friend. Visandra would eat and drink and have her wounds healed, and she would smile as her soul mended under Alexa's watch. Alexa had timed out the guard's shifts and knew exactly when to act. The changing of the guard came at midnight, and every night by just before eleven the guards were either asleep, drunk, or off somewhere, probably with a whore. She wouldn't spend long in the open courtyard, but it would be time enough to sustain her friend a few more days. Master Zafir would relent within a week, Alexa was certain, and Vis would have learned her lesson and returned to the Spire with more respect for the bishop after his compassion. It was hardly the perfect scenario, but it would have to do.

  As Alexa padded through the streets, she heard the muffled sounds of arguments indoors, a few dogs barking, and breaking glass. Nothing unusual, and each echoing sound was a reminder to her to move silently and purposefully. She followed the shadows, staying out of the moon's glow, and crept through alleys and passageways until she was upon the outskirts of the courtyard. Squinting at both nearby guard posts from behind a wide column, she found neither guard in place. Her timing, just after eleven, seemed perfect. But just as she began to step into the courtyard, she heard a gruff laugh and shuffling feet from behind the stocks.

  “It's not much of a p-p-punishment,” stammered a voice in the distance, “to a gir- a girl who likes a good beating.”

  “Ya should know, ya fook,” came the reply, “yer mother beat ya every day fer sport!” Moronic laughter from both men, and a sudden violent thud followed. Alexa started as she saw Vis react in pain.

  Visandra's voice sounded out, weak and unsteady. “Without fire we would be nothing, by fire we can destroy all, through fire we will live forever.” One of the men showed himself, walking around the stocks to see her face. He was one of the red-armored guards, an ugly older man with a ha
lf-beard that didn't make sense to Alexa.

  “Ah my, she's beggin' for more. Give 'er a kick!” Another thud and Vis cried out this time. “An' again!” The thud echoed off the stones and Vis choked back her response.

  Anger boiled up inside Alexa. If I had her power, I would burn you alive, she thought before realizing Vis could, but wasn't, fighting back. Maybe she's too weak, or maybe she's been stripped of her power. She's helpless! She bit her lip and fought back the urge to run into the courtyard and save her friend. She moved to her right, staying behind the columns as much as she could, until she could see both sides of the stocks. The second man didn't seem to be a guard, he was wearing workman's clothes and had short-cropped curly black hair. He reared back and kicked her friend hard on the backside, grunting and almost falling over in the process. So where was the second guard? Alexa shook her head at her conundrum, silently praying for appearance of a guard she had carefully planned to avoid. If the other guard came, this abuse might stop, but her mission would be a failure.

  “See, she l-l-likes a good beating,” the black-haired workman stuttered, “she's b-bent over and wants me to spank her.” He laughed dully. Alexa's eyes scanned to Half-beard, who was on one knee, his ugly face inches from Visandra's.