Legends of Belariath

Callie Volopa

The Lady’s Calling

A Legend of the Verlosi Vulpine Tribe

Originally Told in the First-Person by Jovarta Gilshane

Translated into Common by Callie Volopa

I, Jovarta Gilshane, don’t really expect you, dear reader, to believe everything that I am about to tell you.  As I have grown from the following experience, and moved my field of expertise from the study of war to the study of theology, I’ve learned that much of what you are about to read would be considered, at the very least, to have been little more than a drunken hallucination; at the most, heretical in the worst possible way.  But I learned as early as the age of eighteen that I had a chronic liver condition that would cause me to die if ever I got drunk; indeed, the one time I even got particularly tipsy, I had to be revived from a deep state of unconsciousness.

So it wasn’t alcohol that caused this experience.  Nor was it drugs; though I saw various examples of drug use amongst my fellow soldiers in the wars we fought against the wolven, barbarian, Chirot and moriel tribes in my nearly 250-year military career, I have always abstained from such, preferring to keep my mind sharp at all times.  Perhaps my lack of drinking and drug use has caused me to not exactly be considered the “life of the party” (even though I still have sex as often as any healthy vulpine), but, if nothing else, the fact that I have always been of sound mind and body might convince you, dear reader, to believe at least that *I* believe everything I’m about to tell you is the absolute truth—even though this experience happened over seven hundred years ago.

Why do I only write this now?  It’s quite simple, really—because I know the paragraphs ahead will spark controversy, and might even spark those more radical elements within my own Verlosi tribe to swift, brutal violence against my person.  I care not, however, for I am lying here on my deathbed, soon to succumb after a long illness, and I leave behind no family; only a small group of students to whom I have taught theology, sociology and military ethics.

My story begins thus:

Seven hundred twelve years, three months and eleven years ago, I was serving as a commander in the Vulpine Incorporated Army, Twelfth Division, serving as second-in-command under Captain Zyharta.  The captain, though two hundred years older than me, had raised himself up from nothing in a very short time, and I had grown to admire and respect him.  He had served with honor and distinction as a non-com in the First War of the Ulma Valley, and again in this, the second such war; this time, he had earned a battlefield commission as lieutenant and later as captain.  I sincerely believe, even now, that without his leadership we would have lost the Battle of Makala, and the Kitani/Folax alliance would have faced little-to-no opposition on its way towards dominating Kumaqri and Verlosi’ka.  Instead, his commander died; Zyharta took command; we won at Makala and later won the Battle of Runshaia.

On the night back to which I recall, the Twelfth, Thirteenth and Fifteenth Divisions of the VIA were stationed at Runshaia.  Nowadays, Runshaia is a bustling Verlosi village, but back at this time, it was little more than a swamp with the occasional oak tree sprouting out of it.  The word had just come in from the Joint War Council of Verlosi’ka and Kumaqri that we were to invade the wolven village of Folax in two days’ time.  The Twelfth and Thirteenth Divisions would leave Runshaia to reinforce the Fifth, Sixth and Tenth Divisions which were already laying siege to Folax; the Fifteenth would remain at Runshaia; and the Eighth and Ninth Divisions would stay where they were, laying siege to Kitani.

The war was all but over, and we knew it.  So many lives had been lost on both sides, but the leaders of the wolven alliance army simply didn’t have the heads for strategy that our leaders possessed, even if they *were* our match in combat itself.  Our goal was to reach the center of Folax, capture the Ruling Pack and force them to surrender.  But we knew the Folax defenders would make us pay for every square inch of the city.

That night, I sat at my desk in my tent, writing a letter by candlelight to my elder sister, as I’d done every week since the war began—even though I hadn’t seen her in six years, since that fateful day the wolven army had marched into Kumaqri territory and forced the beginning of this, the Second War of the Ulma Valley.

Usually I complete each letter and make sure it’s in the mail by morning, so that it’s delivered that day to Verlosi’ka, but on this night, the long strategy meeting planning the invasion of Folax had tired me in body, mind and spirit.  I had killed my fair share of wolven in this war, and would have to kill more in a couple days—but how many, this time, would be non-combatants?  Even children?  Our tribal elders were adamant that we would do whatever it took to ensure the surrender of the Folax, but I was growing quite weary of war.

I fell asleep at my desk, and was roused within a few minutes’ time by a chilly breeze that rushed through my tent, scattering some papers, rustling my brown fur, making my three tails stand erect and extinguishing the light of the candles.  The breeze made me stir instantly in surprise and alarm, for it was the middle of a very dry, hot summer; I couldn’t remember feeling a breeze that cool for the last four months.

When I came to, I looked to the entrance of my tent, and was startled by a pair of golden eyes glistening in the dark, which seemed to beckon me, as if making me their servant.  Then I *felt*, rather than heard, the following command, spoken in a distinctly female, sultry voice:  “Come to me.”

Numbly, I nodded, standing on bare feet and departing my tent, not even thinking that was improper for a commander in the VIA to be seen outside his tent wearing only his blue silken nightshirt and a pair of loose-fitting white pajama pants.  As it turns out, even if I had *had* that thought, it would have been irrelevant, for when I departed my tent, I saw not the familiar sight of the VIA base at Runshaia, but the marble-columned halls of a place not known to me at first; its ceilings and walls seemed to stretch into infinity.  As I walked, the cobblestone street felt rough and hard against my soles.

Astonished, I suddenly realized the truth:  “The city of Qileya!” I exclaimed to myself, not realizing that I was being overheard.

“Yes, the city of Qileya,” whispered the voice I’d heard in my tent only a few minutes ago, “which I left to my first mate as a parting present before the vulpine were the vulpine.”  The voice was coming from directly behind my right shoulder, and as I turned, I stared right into those astonishing golden eyes again, which belonged to an equally golden-furred, nude vulpine female with more tails than I could count at the moment.

I would later find it interesting, looking back, that she spoke to me in the older, no-longer-used dialect we now think of as Ancient Vulpani, yet I, a common soldier that knew only Modern Vulpani, understood everything she was saying to me.

As she continued to speak, I took in the intoxicating sight—and oh, the smell!—of her naked form, and tried to count her swaying tails.  “Qileya eventually mated with one of the first mortal vulpine women, and his tribe lived here in harmony for thousands of years until finally, internal dissension tore them apart, and they were conquered and enslaved by a wolven tribe to the north.”  The woman sounded very sad as she reflected upon that; for my part, I had never heard this story told of our people.  I had thought that of The Lady’s three mates, only Trejani had ever become a father.

I stood there, numbly taking in the information, and the information my eyes were finally giving me:  the person in front of me, undisputedly, had ten tails.  I had counted because I knew that Laymeesha, a mischievous, golden-furred, *nine*-tailed daughter of The Lady, had sometimes impersonated her mother to play tricks on the vulpine people.  But this—

“Hello, Jovarta,” she said.  “As you’ve just realized, I am The Lady, Mother of All Vulpines.”

Without a word, I prostrated myself low to the ground, no longer daring to look her in the face, knowing she was my Creator, had ensured my spirit made it into my form; had blessed me with my second and third tails, both earned in noble combat.  And I knew that somehow I had earned her wrath and judgment, and she was about to strike me down and wipe my name from the earth.  I’m not ashamed, dear reader, to say I trembled with fear at this thought.

Instead, I was surprised to feel a light caressing of my ears, and a single word whispered into them:  “Arise.”  Slowly, feeling a weakness in my knees as if I’d never used them before, I complied, tucking my face into my right elbow to shield my eyes from gazing upon The Lady’s sultry, tempting, naked form.

“Don’t be afraid,” were the next words she spoke to me.  “Look at me.”  I pulled my arm down and hesitantly did so, and of their own accord, my eyes skimmed the entire length of shuka triesta’s body, from her head to her arms, her firm breasts to her stomach, from the white fur around her pussy down to her legs, from her ten shimmering tails to her bare feet.  With an amused smile, The Creator of All Vulpines did a half-turn for me, enabling me to see her from behind; she looked just as amazing.

“I—”  My words caught in my throat; I had been so overwhelmed by The Lady’s magnificence that I had lost the ability to speak.  Instead I thought my comment:  <i>I don’t understand what you want from me.</i>

“I want <i>you,”</i>  The Lady replied, as if it was self-apparent.

‘You have me,’ I thought back to her.  ‘All my life I’ve tried to live according to your teachings...’

“I know,” she answered, “and your hard work, sacrifice and humility have not gone unnoticed.  But you misunderstand me.  I don’t want <i>just</i> your life,” she said as she entered a doorway, leading me into a temple adorned with red leather and golden sculptures.

“I want <i>you.”</i>

Her right hand reached to the back of my neck and pulled me into the slowest, most passionate kiss I would ever experience in my long life while her left hand did all the undressing work for me.  She unbuttoned my shirt one button at a time, rubbing her thumb and forefinger against the new patches of my chest that were being slowly revealed; next, without even breaking the kiss, her hand reached into my pajama pants and dropped them straight down to the floor, allowing my stiff cock to jut straight out towards the object of its desire.  As the kiss ceased and The Lady lowered me down onto a bed, I realized then that I couldn’t have said no even if I’d wanted to—so great was my body’s desire.

Pressing her chest against mine as she lined herself up with my cock, she whispered to me, “Make love to me, Jovarta,” and for a moment my mind flashed back to twelve years ago, the last night I’d made love to my wife, the night she’d died, a few hours later, of a heart attack.  It had been the last time I’d had sex, even in the Temple of The Lady; whenever I’d worshipped since then, I had stuck to masturbation.  I didn’t know why the creator of our race had chosen me, a common soldier, to mate with, but one thing was for sure, I wasn’t about to question it.

With a simple nod, I thrust myself upward, burying myself to the hilt inside The Lady’s womanhood; she felt hot and moist, like a wild jungle.  Moving so that she was sitting on me, The Lady rode me, slowly at first, then picking up in intensity, for nearly half an hour; as the two of us reached our mutual climax, I grasped her breasts suddenly and tweaked her nipples; she let out a cry of surprise and delight as she hit her orgasm.

We lay there for several minutes thereafter, basking in the glow of what we just shared, when finally she said to me, “Because you’ve done as I asked, I will bless you in the forthcoming battle.  The army will successfully invade Folax, forcing its Ruling Council to surrender, and within a week after that, Kitani, too, will surrender.  You will neither bear witness to, nor take part in, any atrocities in the coming battle, and you will return home to Verlosi’ka, where you’ll give up your long military career and dedicate the rest of your life to the study and teaching of theology.  War is not good for the vulpine spirit, and even a good person like yourself will be destroyed if you experience too much of it.”

She, and the temple, began to fade from my sight, and I finally worked up the energy to speak.  “Wait!  Why did you choose me?!”

“Because it could have been no other,” The Lady replied, leaving me back in my tent, at my desk, in my pajamas.

As no doubt you know, dear reader, two days later we took Folax, and the war was over in a week.  And as The Lady instructed, I gave up my military career, becoming a cardinal in the Temple of The Lady, and devoting my life to bringing knowledge to Her followers.

And now you understand what led me, a man who was quite non-religious-minded in his youth, to become one of the better-known names in the theological history of the Lady’s Temple here in Verlosi’ka.  For those offended by my plain speak, rest assured that you will not have to deal with my radical ideas much longer, for as I stated earlier, soon I will forever rest.