The Saga of Tallia the Unwilling

Disclaimer:

Everyone is over eighteen. If you are not deeply into fantasy pulp fiction, gender fluidity and pansexuality, you are in the wrong place. Also this contains massive amount of naked Amazon butt kicking. And if that's wrong, I don't want to be right.

BEHOLD! I, Thutmose-Neferkare, royal scribe, chief librarian and high priest of the divine Ra do bid thee welcome back to the sixth scroll in "The Saga of Tallia the Unwilling". This is the second chapter in the saga that does not feature any explicit sex, though it does feature much violence performed in the nude. This sort of prurience, yay, personally does nothing for me. But who I am to judge your most base and degenerate tastes, my good readers? This does bring up something I must address. I have been repeatedly asked why so august an institution as the Temple of Ra is engaged in translating a text as naughty (some would say even as reprehensible) as this one. Yay, listen now and I shall spell it out for thee, my densest of disciples! Sex, lo, it doth sell!

When I commanded my sub-priests to translate all three hundred and sixty one scrolls of the epic poem "War and Not War" by Leonicus of Tolstoyius, it took them five floodings of the divine river to accomplish the task even with daily encouragement lashings and we hath sold like three copies. And yes, everyone who hath bought those scrolls, lo, they shall not shut up about how they hath read the whole thing. We know. Yes, yes, it is not even truly a novel. Leonicus bravely abandons traditional narrative structure at the end and it becomes more of a philosophical treatise. By the Raging Rod of Ra, we know!

But hot tales of Tallia the Unwilling -- behold, they doth fly out of the temple giftshop. We have made enough from our first five scrolls alone to add an appropriate amount of meat to the diet of my sub-priests and to gild entire all three of my favorite hot tubs. Yay, It is good times here at the Temple of Ra! And I owe it all to you, my beloved and dirty-minded readers. Forsooth, you guys are the best.

So, be not ashamed of thy wicked tastes! Instead revel in the heady hedonism of these scrolls and know that thou art not alone. Thy fellow perverse purveyors, purchasers and proponents of pornography -- ye be legion! Soon, if sales continue unbated, I may even add a new oral-torium to my pleasure palace here just outside the holy city. And if the gods truly favor you, even some of you may be invited to perform there for the edification of Ra!

Yay, let it be written! Yay, let it be done!

Chapter Six: He Likes to Watch

Melaerryn of Danan barely slept in her cell. Her arms had gone numb long ago, chained as they were above her. She felt weak and horrid, sitting in her own filth. She could barely tell dreaming apart from waking. She felt increasingly warm or cold or both. Gods, she couldn't take much more of this.

She fell then back into dreams and remembered kneeling before the King of the Summer Court himself, Bressian called the Brave. She was not alone. The warriors Ulthas and Aoife knelt alongside her as they received their orders.

"This is a mission of unique importance," said the king. "I need not tell you that we live in a precarious age. One by one, the gates between our realms and the realms of mortals are closing. If this is allowed to continue, we may lose any connection and become at last two wholly separate worlds. My beloved Queen Brigit may welcome such, but I believe there is still yet much that the two peoples can learn from one another."

Mela couldn't help but smirk at that. Oh, yes, so much to learn your majesty. In other words, King Bressian enjoyed playing a god in the mortal realm and boning young human maidens. For some wholly inexplicable reason the queen was against this.

The king continued his briefing unabated. "Now, you doubtless understand that there is a treaty in place that forbids our interference in the realms of mortals. That treaty, well intentioned as it might be, does fail to take into account certain calamities. For example, the

Itheoir

is perilously close to falling into mortal hands. Yes, it is real. Yes, it is as powerful as they say. And yes, it could forever shatter our connections to the realms of mortals. I need you to fetch it for me and quickly." The king paused deep in thought for a moment. "And discretely. Above all discretely. That's why I'm sending only three of my most trusted agents."

The king turned to an armored warrior, dressed in full mail, holding his helm, handsome and proud. "Ulthas Oakenheart, you are one of my court's greatest warriors. Swift of blade and fearless in battle, I trust to you to see this mission done."

"Of course, my king!"

"Aoife, you are huntress without peer and an archer of great renowned. I have no doubt you can track the

Itheoir

wherever it may be hid."

"It is my honor, my king."

"And Megaerryn..."

"Melaerryn, my king."

"Yes, yes. I know. You are the only sorcerer available with no connection to my wife, the patron of sorcerers. I'm sure you are fine too..."

"Thank you, my..."

"Yes, yes," interrupted Bressian. "Now go and remember..." Despite this mission being of allegedly critical importance and of the utmost urgency, the king blathered on for quite a while more.

Mela said nothing during it all. This whole mission was such a bad idea. The last known location of the artifact they sought was in a ruin that no sidhe had visited in centuries. Who know who lives there now? Who knows if the thing is even real or if it had been stolen centuries ago? But Bressian wanted it and that was that.

Mela cared little for the king's whims honestly. But she wanted to see the realms of mortals. She had read so much about humanity. She had learned dozens of their languages. She had studied their mythologies, their histories and yet she knew that this was only a drop in an ocean. Humans were just so... weird and wonderful. She longed to meet some.

The sidhe had a deadly propensity for stagnation. Nothing had truly changed in the Summer Lands in centuries. That was doubtless a side effect of immortality. But humans, with their short and fiery lives, burned to change and grow and explore. Melaerryn burned with those same passions. And so when a secret mission to the mortal realms became available, no matter how ill conceived, she did all she could to be a part of it.

Her lord and husband was predictably against her going. Lord Ghedron Summerborn was squarely set against all her ambitions. What he wanted of her was for her to be a dutiful court wife who would help him navigate the intricacies of immortal politics and rise in station. What he never wanted out of this arranged marriage was a scholar. But she had sought the appointment most successfully in secret and now the king had issued commands, so her husband was powerless.

Well not entirely. He had punished her of course. Not physically. Lord Ghedron Summberborn, Herald of Danan, would never be so blunt or so boorish as to strike her directly. Instead, her husband had arranged for her to "discover" him having intercourse with her maid servant Niamh. The sidhe lord had the pretty young lady bent over Mela's prized chest of books and scrolls when she happen across this infidelity. The message was unmistakable: "I won't miss you or your ridiculous hobbies."

She had not even interrupted them or feigned outrage. If Ghedron wanted to vent his very limited stock of passion into the ass of that dullard maid so be it. She was done with the both of them as much as she done with the Summer Court. King Bressian wanted this mission done quickly. Mela wanted anything but.

Now here she was. She had travelled into the realms of mortals. And what became all too apparent with each of her few cogent, waking moments left was that she would almost certainly die here.

She had no regrets. No, that was no longer true -- last night she had seen true and passionate love between two mortals. And before she died or returned forever to the unchanging Summer Lands, she wanted to taste such delights.

"Tallia," she moaned too low and soft for any to hear. And then she drifted away into delirious, feverish sleep. She was not sure if she would ever wake.

***

At noon the next day, the Sons of Arion came for Tallia in force. A cadre of well-armed and cautious bestial soldiers, snarling and vengeful, rushed into the prison without warning and soon had weapons trained on every prisoner. The majority focused on holding the Amazon at spear point as they unlocked her ankle chain. It was obvious to all four of the prisoners that these monster-men would as soon murder them all as perform this errand, but like everyone in the wizard's fortress -- they had their orders. Diagoras himself, horned and hunched, was at the back of the mob overseeing this matter, keeping the mob in check.

At last the major domo cried out clear and loud, "All hail the Eye!"

Every one of the Sons of Arion howled back their answer with animalistic eagerness. The prisoners fought the words, Liandra even wincing as in actual pain, but each choked it out regardless. "All hail the Eye." Tallia herself barely whispered it, like a foul poison in her mouth.

The hunched Diagora slowly and painfully limped to the freed Amazon. "My master bids you come before him Tallia, slave of the Eye."

Tallia felt overcome by a strange sensation and realized with those words she could at last leave her cell. In fact, she must leave her cell! The Eye beckoned to her! This realization did not make her any more eager to travel with this murderous mob of monster men, but she had no choice. With a hard jab of a spear at her back that barely managed to not draw blood, she was forced from the prison cell.

"Wait," said Diagoras. "Not like this. The master wants her naked."

The monster men chortled darkly at this command. A dozen of the bestial Sons of Arion drew their blades and cut away the few filthy scraps of her garb that had survived her travels, battles and imprisonment. The fine scarlet raiment she had been bought in distant Zhang Zhen by Hilarius, already much abused, was at last utterly ruined. And soon enough she was utterly nude before the howling throng of beast-men. They did little to hide their disgusting desires but still dared not act on them. This one, they all knew, was for the Eye.

Tallia neither cringed nor hid herself. She walked out of the cell block proud and unbowed. Her long raven-black hair, amazingly still silken and untangled, flowed behind her like a banner of defiance. Her eyes burned an angry emerald. Her form was tall and mighty, a proud warrior-goddess born in some ancient age. She was beauty personified, magnificently buxom, skin unmarred and shining like polished marble. She was even in this horrid prison, undoubtably a warrior, unmistakably an Amazon, and unquestionably born to walk the road of heroes. Even here, in this wizard's hell, she walked it still.

Liandra, still unchained in her cell but unable to leave, watched as Diagoras gave the command to strip and remove her friend. She scowled at him and the major domo withered beneath his daughter's disapproving gaze. But the creature did not relent in his duty.

"To the arena!" Diagoras cried. The beast-men snarled in joy once more for the show to come, but they also still kept their weapons trained on deadly Tallia, naked or not.

As Tallia was led out, Hilarius could no longer hold back. "Survive, Tallia! Take whatever he throws at you and throw it back!" One of the Amazon's monstrous escorts backhanded the little rogue for daring to speak, knocking him back against the cell's hard stone wall. Hilarius slumped down and wept but not from the blow.

Tallia was escorted out of the prison and into another unknown section of this vast and sprawling fortress. It was off the central courtyard but was not a tower or part of the outer walls. Instead, it had once been some sort of hall, perhaps a theater she mused. Everywhere the large chamber was adorned by broken, desecrated statuary of unidentifiable origin. There were also stepped stone seats built into the old walls that seemed part of the original construction. In front of those was new construction -- a heavy wooden fence of crude make that separated the seats from the fighting pit.

Whatever this chamber's ancient purpose, it had now been transformed into honestly, a small and unimpressive arena. Tallia estimated this fighting circle could probably seat no more than two maybe two hundred and fifty spectators. Tallus the Grim, champion of the mad prince, had once thrilled an audience twice and one hundred times that size in the imperial arena of Yaath'Xin.

But the hundred plus monster men spectators who howled uproariously at her entrance were clearly not the reason for this battle pit's existence. Instead at the arena's far end, there was only one viewing platform raised up by crumbling columns overlooking the sand covered field of battle. Crude banners bearing a now all too familiar three-eyed rune adorned the structure. Sitting within that luxurious box on a single padded chair of marble, silk and gold was the wizard himself. He was wearing a different costume this time. He sported a supple robe of fine blue silk embroidered with golden brocade dragons. He was attended by a cadre of beautiful young women, all bare-breasted and wearing only sheer thongs that left nothing to the imagination. They fanned him with feathered staves, kept his golden chalice full of wine and served him fat grapes. Tallia could guess that these pitiful glassy-eyed victims were stolen via raids upon the nearby rice farms. As beautiful as they were, the wizard seemed no more interested in them than the other furnishings of his private box. His attention was instead fixed on Tallia.

Diagoras loped into the box from an unseen back passage and whispered into the wizard's ear. Arion Three-Eyes nodded and rose and the gibbering horde of leering monster men suddenly became silent. The major domo stepped back demurely and watched the proceedings in silence. The wizard though was anything but quiet, loudly proclaiming: "Welcome, naked plaything of Arion, to my arena!"

Honestly, Tallia could care less about the nudity. Tallus the Grim had fought in the arena for years wearing only a loin cloth and sandals. If he somehow acquired a few pieces of armor or a helm, he felt fortunate indeed. And the number of times some foe ripped or cut away his loin cloth in the heat of battle, he could not count. So, he had fought utterly nude in front of tens of thousands of cheering, bloodthirsty spectators more than once. If you let it bother you, you died. Perhaps the wizard thought that being naked would humiliate Tallia, making her easier prey. She was about to do her level best to show him how wrong he was.

"You call this dump an arena, wizard?" answered the proudly naked Amazon. "I've performed at the Arena of Yaath'Xin in the funerary games of an emperor! Your pitiful little venue is smaller than the servants' shit houses of the mad prince."

"What spirit! What pride! What bluster!" Arion proclaimed before his howling horde. "Oh, look what I brought for you!" The wizard held aloft the green glass coffer holding her sword. "This is the blade that you yourself handed to me after I first made you my slave. I'm sure you must want this more than life itself right now," he mocked.

"The only good thing you ever did for me was taking that damned devil-sword!" she answered. "It's cursed you know. You should definitely keep it close at all times. If you lick it, it probably won't make your dick disappear."

Arion scowled and handed the coffer off to a slave who placed the weapon out of sight behind her master's chair. "You have a sharp tongue, Tallia. But you will kneel before me!"

"Oh, great and powerful wizard, happily I would bow... if you would only go FUCK YOURSELF!"

Arion opened his third-eye and bathed the defiant warrior in unclean greenish light. "I said KNEEL!"

"But how can I when... your mom... she still craves doggy dicks..." the Amazon managed, shaking with defiance, the green light like a raging fire in her mind.

"KNEEL!"

Tallia tried to utter another colorful insult about the wizard's parentage but managed only a growl and then a long, loud, "FUCK!"

Tallia began to sweat and convulse. She resisted the mind-fire as long as she could. But this was a battle she was destined to lose. She stood now naked before the Eye, wreathed in its unholy radiation. She grimaced in pain and finally fell to her knees.

"What you do not understand, you simpering sell-sword, is that unlike the Lords of Yaath'Xin who could only threaten your pathetic, worthless life, I can burn your very soul. You are now and forever mine! You are my toy! And today, you will dance for my pleasure. If you do not, if you try to escape before I give you leave, if you dare attack or insult me again -- I will burn the fucking heart out of you! ALL HAIL THE EYE!" he cried.

The assembled throng of monster-men then were silent no longer. They rose as one and began to dance frenetically, answering that cry with a howl of eager joy. "ALL HAIL THE EYE! ALL HAIL THE EYE! ALL HAIL THE EYE!" They repeated that call over and over again.

Tallia whispered something too.

Arion waved his hand and silenced the mad throng of the beast-men. "What was that?! I couldn't hear you, my toy. What did you say?"

"All hail the eye," she whispered through gritted teeth.

"Good," the wizard said, at last closing his third eye. "Bring forth the armaments!"

Two of the Sons of Arion scuttled out bearing a rack of crude implements of battle. "Pick one," the wizard said with a dismissive wave, taking a long sip of wine.

Tallia rose and approached the rack and then almost cried out with joy. She did not hesitate. She knew then exactly what she wanted. She grabbed the spear. The thing was glorious. Ever since the horned bear had shattered her war spear, she'd had to rely on the damn devil sword. But this... this was seven feet of hard but flexible ash wood topped with a broad bronze leaf-shaped point counterbalanced with a spiked butt. It was sharp as an eagle's talon. It bore no form of adornment at all and yet it was beautiful. She grabbed the weapon firmly like a paramour embracing a long absent lover.

"This will do," she whispered even as the rest were taken away.

"Now, we shall see if your skill matches your bluster, Amazon. Unleash my hounds!" cried the wizard, sitting back down to watch the show, sweating perhaps a little from the exertion of his magic. But Tallia gave no heed to the doings of the wizard. Instead what dominated her attention was the cranking sound of the heavy iron portcullis. She soon would have company in this deadly circle.

As it opened, five inhuman hound-men emerged from the shadows and onto the arena floor. They were shorter than Tallia, being probably three hands less in stature apiece. But they were lithe and muscular. You might even say there were of a handsome build except that their heads were that of snarling dogs, akin in likeness to a mixture of mastiff and man. Some were solid grey, others a mottled mixture of brown, white and black and one, the largest, was albino. His pink eyes burned with hatred for his master's chosen prey.

These dog-men were not naked, but wore little besides a leather harness, loincloths and sandals. Each had different armament though: a two-handed axe, a barbed trident, a hooked whip and long knife and most worrisome, the smallest carried three javelins. The pale skinned leader completed the retinue bearing a short stabbing blade and round bronze shield painted with the stylized rune of a snarling hound.