Volondil: an Empire in Exile

(Prequel to "Volondil and Erelen". Both are stories with sex, but not purely sex stories. I really love my characters and I hope you enjoy them as well!)

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They knew it was he by the sudden blast of cold air that preceded his arrival. The chill perpetually accompanied him, momentarily cooling even the depthier recesses of Hell, as if he carried his own atmosphere with him concealed somewhere beneath the folds of his voluminous black cloak. It iced his deep purple eyes and frosted his pale features into a perpetual sneer.

Volondil entered the Praetor's hall with carefully measured tread. He calculated each step for the perfect economy of motion that would carry him to the proscribed distance before the dais. When he reached his destination, he knelt before the hulking demon's throne. "Father," he murmured respectfully.

Kremlok let him stay on his knees for several moments longer than necessary, refusing to acknowledge him. The imps and goblins filling the great hall rustled and twittered behind scaly hands. "Rise," the Praetor finally growled. His burning eyes regarded his older son with something more than distain and only just shy of disgust.

For his part Volondil did not seem concerned. The slender young man stood ramrod straight with his hands laced behind his back. In contrast to the demonic horde around him, he could have passed for a mere human were it not for his startling eyes and impossibly pale skin. His garb was unconventional and the subject of much quiet ridicule. He was clothed totally in black yet in the manner of a human princeling with a velvet doublet and breeches tucked into glossy black boots. Stranger yet, he appeared to be unarmed aside from a slender silver rapier hanging at his side.

"I am prepared to claim what is rightfully mine, Father."

A booming laughed echoed through the hall. The burnt flagstones quaked and several of the smaller orcs lost their clawholds on the columns, tumbling gracelessly to the ground and then scrambled to make way for the approaching menace.

His horns scraped the vaulted ceiling, wreathed in smoke and crackling fire. Like his father, his eyes blazed like living coals. The Balrog drew his blade, glowing steel burning hot from the heat of his hands, but even without it he was a nightmare come true. A creature of living flame and immense proportions, he towered above even his enthroned father. With every mocking laugh, flames gaped from his open maw, hinting at a raging inferno within.

"Let me destroy him, Father," the monster begged. "I have waited long for this day."

Kremlok pondered his two children for a long moment. For Volondil to challenge Morag was ludicrous. Unless there was more to the slight young man than met the eye... "You may fight," he declared. "But not to the death. I cannot lose either of my Generals today."

Morag looked disappointed. Volondil's expression was unreadable.

"Begin!"

They met with a clash of blades, fire and ice. Morag was by far the stronger, but Volondil held his own, dancing just out of reach. His thin blade, meager as it seemed, took the full brunt of the Balrog's sword and did not break. It seemed to glow with a faint blue light. Smoke filled the chamber, and the flames in the fire pit danced higher and higher. Even Volondil began to feel the heat rising in the air around him.

"Your time among the humans has weakened you," Morag taunted. "They have declawed you and made you their pet."

Volondil circled him warily, searching for an opening. "You're wrong brother. I have learned much from the humans. They are more treacherous and cruel than you can imagine."

He darted past Morag's guard and struck a blow at the giant demon's leg. Molten lava oozed from the wound, and Volondil jumped back to avoid the scaling flow. In a blind rage Morag kicked him, sending him flying across the hall into a pillar. The force of the impact would have shattered any mortal, but it merely dazed Volondil. Stunned he slid to the ground and groped for his rapier.

Hisses and cackles came from the lesser demons watching in the shadows.

Precious seconds later, he found it. His fingers closed on the hilt and he began to rise. Suddenly he felt a fiery tendril curl around his torso, binding his arms at his sides and jerking him back into the air. This time he was flung ignominiously at the Praetor's feet.

Volondil's eyes narrowed and he whirled, unarmed but undaunted, to face his brother. He had been a fool to forget Morag's favorite toy.

"Enough." Kremlok stood. "It is clear who is the stronger. Morag shall inherit the imperium."

"I challenge the succession!" Volondil protested. It was useless, he knew, but it was not in his nature to passively accept defeat. "I am eldest, therefore I should rule as tradition dictates. I claim my birthright."

"You are half-human, Volondil. The traditions do not apply to you."

That was it then, as he had always known it was. Indignation gave him courage. "It was your choice, Father, to sleep with a mortal. Do not punish me for your own sins."

Kremlok's eyes glittered dangerously. "Were you not my own son I would have you killed immediately. I acknowledged you, bastard spawn, and raised you as a prince in my house and you repay me by defying me before my thanes? Get you gone from the Underworld before I repent of my generosity! See if the humans you so love will take you in," he spat.

"It seems I am not the only one who loves the humans," Volondil retorted.

The Praetor snarled, livid with rage, and signed for his guards. Four battle Uruks rushed forward. Volondil leapt over the fire pit, landing in a crouch, swept his sword into his hand. He sliced his way through the armored Uruks with the fluid grace of a dancer. He slew the fourth just before the doors. Turning to face the crowded hall once more he held the dripping blade aloft in scornful salute.

"By Lucifer, I swear I shall build an Empire the very legions of Hell will tremble before!"

With a roar they surged forward to rip him limb from limb.

Volondil raised his sword higher and shouted above the dim. "Salaash tornan dervegh!" An icy wind swirled around him, whipping his long ebony hair across his face. But he did not need to see the shock on their faces to laugh as the portal carried him away.

Some weeks later he stood in another great hall, before another ruler. If the bloated idiot sprawled across the couch at the head of the banquet table could be dignified with the term, he mused.

The place was called Durnhall, the most powerful province in a minor world. He had considered it to be a good strategic location from which to begin his campaign for total domination of the Middle Worlds. Once he had united the races of the earth realm into a cohesive whole, he would a force to be reckoned with against either the forces of Hell or Aman.

It was never spoken, but both gods and devils were a dying breed. Despite their terrifying and awe inspiring powers and stature, they were little more than impressive relics of a bygone era. Every passing century weakened their sway over the All and their ability to inspire either fear or reverence in the hearts of mortals. A new science was rising. As a child of two worlds, Volondil felt that he could bring together the best of both, creating a stronger whole than existed before.

Such were his thoughts as he stood at attention behind the Queen of Charn Durn, watching the revelry with repugnance. The feast proper was nearly over, but several gluttons still gorged themselves on the remnants. Scantily clad slave girls with pitchers picked their way through discarded bones, plates, and other detritus of the evening to refill goblets again and again. Off pitch music emanated from the half-drunk cluster of musicians in the corner. It hurt Volondil's ears and he clenched his fists to restrain himself from smashing their instruments to kindling.

"Why so tense love?" the woman in front of him asked in a sultry voice as she ran a hand along his arm.

"Be ware, my lady. There are many eyes on us," he replied stiffly.

The Queen chuckled. "Very blurry eyes, like as not. I've of a mind to turn in for the night. Would my gallant Captain escort me to my chambers?"

He bowed slightly. "As my lady wishes."

They had scarcely left the main hall before she hurled herself at him. The disguised demon dragged her after him into a storeroom and bolted the door, setting a rune of invisibility on it. It would keep them from being disturbed for a time.

"Mmmmm," Marissa moaned softly, pressing herself against him. "I have been sick with wanting you ever since you left on that campaign. Must you leave me with that pig? He cannot even hold his cock erect for longer than a quarter hour."

"Duty calls, my lady. I must answer, however it pains me to part from your delectable bosom."

"I know, I know. The brave hero saving us from the barbarians yet again. My husband will give another medal for it, I'm sure. He favors you, you know." As she spoke, she tugged impatiently at his armour.

"His favor is nothing compared to yours." Volondil assisted her by deftly removing his armour and tunic. She slid down his chest and dropped to her knees. He allowed her to remove his breeches and expose his phallus.

"Gods, you are as big as a horse! I know, I say that every time but it's true."

"Shut up and suck it," he growled, impatient with her antics. He grabbed the Queen's hair and forced her face into his crouch reveling in his power over her. After weeks of playing games, pretending to be subservient to beings whom were not worthy to worship the ground he trod on, it was a welcome diversion to have one of their pathetic excuses for royalty on her knees before him.

He'd cast a glamour on himself the first day he entered the armed service and as he had hoped the Queen had selected him for her personal guard and soon after appointed him both Captain and lover. Like an addict the more he gave her, the more she wanted. Although the physical pleasure was inconsequential to him, the experience of breaking and degrading the proud woman was a welcome treat after a long day. Just the right mix of courtly gentility outside the bedroom to win her trust and affection, and then enough dominance during the act to keep her confused and addicted.