. 02-03 Festival

Ch.10: Festival At Bricas (Part 2: Aldareg, the Sorceror)

Eventually the people of Bricas began to leave. The drug had worn off and served its purpose. Some who were still keen stayed, determined to spend the whole night until sunrise, but they needed more of the drug to keep themselves going.

As Aribor made his way down the hill to the city below a dark cloaked man joined his path from above, following him. A message of presence made him aware that this was a fellow sorcerer. "Wait. Wait for me Aribor!"

Aribor turned to see who followed him. The sorcerer pulled his hood back as he approached to reveal a thick Grumandrian mane of long matted dark hair. He felt impatience. The business of his work for the King was not what he wanted now, after the scenes he had witnessed and participated in. The calm he was feeling would be rudely interrupted by a fellow sorcerer.

"Aldareg!" he called, as he recognised the sorcerer.

"Hail Aribor. I see you have been to the Temple tonight. What a sight. I have never seen the like!"

"Were you there? Surely not in that cloak?" quipped Aribor.

"A cloak of disguise. I used invisibility!" said Aldareg.

"Ah, of course!" said Aribor. He knew the cloak of invisibility well. He had used it himself sometimes. He shuddered at the suspicion that Aldareg might have observed his participation.

"I have been inside the Palace," said Aldareg. "Did you see them? They drink a drug of some kind, which drove them to sexual madness. They rape each other, not caring who they take. I tell you they took whoever they were near, without thought or desire!" Aldareg gave the impression he thought little of such men and women, and yet Aribor remembered that he knew well this very sorcerer had raped plenty of female prisoners in the years they had come through, for magical power, and doubtless for his own pleasure.

"And surely Aldareg you must have wished you were amongst them and able to participate?" suggested Aribor.

"Perhaps that would have been a pleasure, but I was invisible and we have a task to perform," said Aldareg. "I think you were amongst these enemies, and I think you did enjoy them?" he accused, "but do not worry. I cannot complain of your behaviour. You carried out your investigation of their festival more closely than any of us. You would be in a good position to carry out the work we have been asked to do here!

"What do you think of their Festival? Would it be possible to cast spells of jealousy and fear amongst them, to make them kill each other perhaps. Would the drink exclude them from our influence or would it make our task easier?"

Aldareg was full of questions and ideas. Aribor wished he had not met him here. "I don't know. I have not thought about all these matters yet," Aribor mumbled, trying to avoid Aldareg's awkward questions.

"Did the drink turn these people and yourself into mindless animals?" the unstoppable Aldareg went on. "Would the drink impede our influence or would it serve such magic? Would we be better served by killing them in their drugged drunkenness or by destroying the Palace while they are within? What are your thoughts?"

Aribor's mind recoiled! To kill these innocents, these generous people, with whom he had assuaged his lusts? To set them against each other or destroy them horrified him now. Why should he want that? Remzain would never approve. Only King Guthelm and vile sorcerors such as Valdark and Aldareg could want such destruction upon these pleasant, easy people. As with Remzain before Aribor now sought to find some way to deflect the sorcerer from wanting such an outcome, just as he had hoped to save Remzain's father for her sake, or to protect her family from harm. These people were all he now had of Remzain. He could not want the evil destruction his King ordered!

Aribor was wary. How should he respond to Aldareg's questions. To tell the truth of his opinion would be very dangerous for him. If he revealed the fulfilment he felt at the Festival, and his new respect for the people he had so recently despised, he would be considered a traitor to his own people and to his King. His fellow sorcerors accepted each other's perverse inclinations and cruelties, but would not trust one of their number if he were to turn traitor to their King and people. The black sorcerors might entertain a world weary attitude at times towards their King, but they all feared him and they feared each other. They would all do his bidding, and never questioned the direction of his leadership. He had brought them to these shores for the greatness of his expanding realm, to prove that Shalirion was no competitor and its people were good enough only to be his servants. The soldiers and sorcerors of Grumandria would take back home the riches and artefacts of Shalirion and many women and slaves. They would leave a land broken and despoiled, except those which Guthelm's allies chose to keep or colonise for themselves.

Aribor had to show his willingness and desire to kill and destroy these enemies of Grumandor. Until he had joined the Festival of Bricas that evening he had not been aware that he could no longer serve his King against the Shalirionites, who thought they were so civilised. He might have been half hearted, still softened and upset by his loss of the beauty Remzain until tonight. His enthusiasm for the conquest had gone but he would have continued to do his duty.

Tonight he had joined the Shalirionites in their festival. He found he had merged more than just his body with the flesh of Guthelm's enemies. He had joined at least a part of his soul with theirs. Perhaps he had received some understanding of their Goddess, or perhaps just the feeling of common sexual humanity. He found he not only wanted to protect Remzain and her family from his own people, but now he wanted to protect her people from his own. The thought that he might do the bidding of his King, in killing Shalirionites might have been possible yesterday, but no longer after tonight. He could not allow his fellow sorcerors to kill without some attempt to deflect them from such a course.

"Perhaps it is unwise to attack these people so soon when our armies are so far behind in the north and east. We gain no immediate conquest by it. Do you not think our King is too eager?" Aribor asked.

Aldareg laughed dismissively, "This has been said before! It is part of our King's plan - to put fear into their hearts so they will surrender more easily to us."

"Don't you think it might cause them to prepare more effectively. We will lose the elements of surprise, to no tactical advantage," said Aribor.

"Well I suppose most of us might agree with you on that thought, but our terror can break wills. We have used it to good effect before," explained Aldareg.

"I did not think Aribor that you would be one to quibble about our orders," Aldareg went on. "For many years you have not cared too much what your orders were. I thought you would follow orders without question as long as you could have your pleasures on the side. I thought you might be pleased to create terror. Some of us enjoy the freedom to create terror which our King has given us."

"What of you Aldareg? What drives you in your work?" Aribor asked.

"Like yourself I do my King's work without question," answered Aldareg. "Being a sorcerer gives us strange tastes. I enjoy much of the work I do. My work spreads the power of our King, and our people. I am proud of my work. I am pleased when I do a job well. Our King has told us to attack Bricas. The people here are fat and indolent. They have easy lives. They have heard what happened to Cromilil, but they are not expecting to be attacked here - not for a long time. Let us strike at the heart of Shalirion! Shalirion will crumble in chaos if we do Guthelm's bidding. Valdark instructed us , but he gave us freedom to use our arts as we would wish. I suggest you worry no more about the tactics and concentrate upon our arts. Let us return to practicalities.

"I asked you whether you thought we should collapse the building, trapping the festival goers inside or crushing them?"

"I cannot give you an answer at this moment Aldareg, Aribor said evasively, not wanting to appear uncommitted, while inside his mind whirled with the horror of the deaths which might be brought upon these generous people. "I will think upon these matters. I do hope you and the others will not be rash," he added. "We must not act until we are ready!" His real reason for saying these things was to put off any actions for as long as possible. He hoped Aldareg would not see through his evasion.

"I understand Aribor. You have been inside those columns and experienced first hand how the soft people make their festivals. You are best placed to think on the horrors which may be inflicted to bring fears into the hearts of these people."

In his mind's eye the sorcerer could see the temple roof crashing down upon the festival participants, crushing them at the height of their sexual congress. Would many of them even notice, intoxicated by their liquid drug, in the midst of their drawn out ecstacies. Of course terror would quickly spread, to be soon extinguished by death for most of the victims. Aribor found he could not stomach the images. If he had felt enthusiasm for this crime he might have thought up far more grotesque methods of bringing terror to the adherents of the Goddess. Dark magics could be harvested by the terrors induced in taking captives and forcing them to perform for their dear lives. The end would be the same but far less clean. He hoped that none of the sorcerors would seek to go to such efforts here, where simpler acts of punishment would suffice.

Ch.10: Festival At Bricas (Part 3: The End Of Harmony)

Aribor cast off his white robe and entered the Hall of the Palace of the Goddess for the second time, naked like the rest. He joined a queue for the sacred drink. The feeling amongst the people around him was frivolous. The women were already eyeing up the men, and the men responded with compliments to the women. He was shocked once again at how brazen these women were, confident in a way that the women of his homeland never were. Here the women were often the masters, whereas in his own homeland it was the men who held sway over their families, over the women, over their daughters, who depended upon them. Even those who were prostitutes were exploited and mistreated. Here where all women were like prostitutes, they held power and influence. He thought of Remzain, the one who even now dominated his thoughts.

Eagerly he accepted the chalice from a fleshy woman of his own age who stood near him in the queue. He looked forward to mounting her and others, shapely younger ones and squealing mothers, whose liberated moans spoke of their delight in the sharing. Eagerly they listened to the Priestesses and embraced each other in total abandonment of normal politeness. He was quite sure that he would have performed as well without the liquid, so excited was he.

The woman beneath him was young and willowy, but her fingers clutched too tightly, the nails biting into his fleshy torso.

"Don't scratch," he demanded moderately, but she gripped harder and wailed at him, weeping. Where did this unpleasantness come from? What had he done to upset this lovely creature? The beautiful elf of a woman seemed to be more goblin woman now, her face sweated and worried. There was hatred and nastiness in her face now.

He had dreamed a dream of friendship, love and communal intimacy, the first time in his ugly life, when he had been able to cast aside the puppet strings of his masters and the slavery of his upbringing. The spring of redemption had begun to heal him, and now, suddenly, in the midst of ecstasy and the peace of friendship with strangers came the dissonance of hatred and pain, unlooked for, unbidden, unexpected. Was he that much of an ogre? Did she find him repulsive in the half light?

"You're weighing me down! Suspend your attack," she shrieked, still verbal. How could she think he was attacking her? He had done nothing unpleasant.

Aribor hesitated. What else could he do? He felt anger flare in him. The woman seemed less than ideal now, and yet just a short while before he had found the cast of her torso and the curvature of her youthful limbs most perfect.

Obstinately he tried to stay upon her. Who was she, who had been so inviting just a short while before, to order him from her? Perversely, while her beauty seemed to decay before him, he wanted to possess her all the more, to prove to her his worth, to spurt his fiery semen inside her. He was not old, not too old for this young woman, who now appeared so graceless. He tried to concentrate upon achieving his pleasure, but she fought him all the more taking the pleasure from the act. Her nails dug into him and scratched blood from his skin. He raised his hand to slap her, but decided instead to give her her freedom. He rolled off her, seeing the mistrust and dislike in her eyes. He let her go and she fled, searching for someone more suitable most likely.

Nearby a man left the woman who had sucked him. "That's enough! Go and suck someone else." He virtually pushed the woman away, leaving the woman looking distraught and upset at the rejection. Aribor wondered why the man should have felt that way. Aribor might well have volunteered his prick to be sucked by her. But there was a woman of exquisite beauty not so far away. She was blonde haired and pretty, sunbathed skin and a smooth beautiful face. She was young and perfect. Aribor could see her attraction for the men nearby. Two men already sandwiched her between them. Her cries, turning to warnings of discomfort, seemed only to attract further interest from men, who gathered around her now, like dogs. Aggressively the man beneath her held her as he spent himself inside her. The man above her fucked hard into her arse, banging her wildly as other watchers gathered, hoping to follow. She cried to him to stop; he was hurting her, but the man's cock was exceedingly hard and very big. Another man offered his cock to the beauty's mouth. When she did not take it eagerly he grew angrier and pushed it to her mouth. As she refused to take it, he slapped her head and she reluctantly opened her mouth to let the penis in. This was not the politeness and caring he had seen in Bricas before. These men were Shalirionites, and yet they behaved as badly as any Grumandrian rapist.

The man behind her became agitated and wild, invading her arse at exaggerated speed and crying out, even before he came, which when it happened was extremely agitated. The woman screamed even as the man in her filled her. Even in her resistance there was no denying she was beautiful. Aribor also wanted to fill her with his cock as he saw others doing, and was aware that he might care little for the woman's wellbeing if only he could have her.

The man behind removed his cock after his orgasm, which must have been huge. There were flecks of blood on it, and it still dripped semen. He was pale and calm now as the sexual motivation left him. Other men pulled him away in order to take his place. The man beneath her had also achieved his orgasm and allowed his place to be taken. The man at her mouth had spunked into her mouth after observing the violence of the man who had been behind her, which had taken him over the edge too. Another quickly pushed himself under the beauty and pushed his enlarged penis into her luscious cunt. Again another forced himself into her arse, while yet another was quickly in her mouth.. her complaints were nothing now. They had all seen how to handle her and submissively she acquiesced for fear of bringing further pain. Swiftly they took her. Dark magic possessed the men around her. She inspired the utmost passion in all of those who invaded her. Men fought each other to be the next in line for her mouth, her arse or her cunt. Aribor too edged close with desire in his head. He was still sensible enough to wonder where were the other women? This was the best, so this was the one they all wanted to possess, but already she was hurt and frightened, spoiled and ruined.

Heaven had somehow turned into hell. The pleasure of the all encompassing warmth of the Goddess had slipped into petty human jealousies and lusts. The animal natures of men and women had risen. Women turned to fear, jealousy and loathing. He saw a woman bite the cock of the man she was sucking, until blood ran down it. Using her teeth as a weapon she punished him, as he screamed and pulled her black hair tightly, forcing her to disengage. Only minutes before they had seemed to be happily and lovingly engaged in the acts of sex! Their anger was up now and the woman clawed back with sharp fingernails drawing blood. Other men came forward, holding her down while the man she had injured beat her face, further spoiling her beauty. Then they pinned her down and took turns to rape her as she screamed out. What madness was this which had gripped them all?

Aribor felt the lusts and the feelings of violence as the Shalirionites did, but perhaps because he was a sorcerer he was able to retain enough detachment to think and to wonder what these unusual feelings were.

Aribor knew violence! His past was violence; his homeland was violence, lust and cruelty. Now he and the sorcerors had come to this city of Shalirion, another untouched corner of Shalirion, in which he found innocence and love, beyond his expectation, all the good things he had never known in the past. He found he wanted those things now, and having found them, he found them suddenly corrupted. This was too much coincidence! He wondered he had not thought of it more swiftly. The reason for this sudden change could only be the Black Sorcerors, his fellow Grumandrians. They had struck sooner than he thought. How could he not have recognised their magic? So relaxed had he become in his sexual heaven that he had not even recognised the hallmarks of his trade.

He recognised that his own mind had been influenced to exaggerate his emotions. Quickly he restored the barriers he used when he sensed a threat. Something was affecting him. Was it a spell, a mist or perhaps something imbibed? That could well be the cause! The festival goers all drank from the same source! They took 'wine' from the huge bowls in the middle of the Palace hall. They passed the chalices between them. Perhaps his fellow sorcerors had managed to poison the 'wine' to create paranoia and fear, jealousy, greed and lust. Some chemical or a spell upon the liquid? Was it too late to undo the damage which had already been done. Many had injured each other. If he did not act now more of these innocents would die or inflict senseless injuries upon each other. In an instant the sorcerer considered his choice. Whether to remain loyal to his countrymen and their King? Quickly he was aware that he had already made up his mind, before he had even been aware of it. Years of loyal service thrown away in an instant, but this was not the first time he had been tested recently.

He cast a search for spells upon the nearest 'wine' bowl. There was no spell to obstruct him. The contaminant must then be physical, a chemical additive rather than an influencing spell. That made his task more difficult, but perhaps he could cast spells which countered the physical effect of the 'wine' upon these people. The woman he had defended himself from lay dazed upon the floor nearby, where her head had hit the floor. He leaned forward over her, feeling no more anger towards her as his own emotions were now controlled. Placing his hand upon her forehead he began to speak a spell of calming, the banishment of anger. The power of his sorcery was immediately evident. The calm settled upon her immediately. He could see her eyes, no longer filled with fear and hatred, although the sore head remained for now.