Legends of Belariath
Infernis
Justice and Revenge: Last Chapter - Balance Undone and Vengeance Achieved
The Ascension Procession entered the forest from the North, as their ancestors had so many centuries before. In times past, the citizens of the forest would be there, above them and before the Procession, singing hymns and coating the ground with gifts of wild flowers. Today, though, only the eldest and youngest stood in the boughs of the great trees. A mere fraction of what had once been, and most of those present wore raiments of black. For this was a time of mourning for the city and its people.
From the North, the Procession came, the Queen Cassandra, accompanied by her sister and Queen-apparent Alaya, as well as the various ministers and elders that would oversee the ritual. They would travel from the Northern border to the Great Oak, where they had been accepted by the Elves that lived there before them, and then to the South where the Castle stood. Once there, the procession would end and the Ritual would begin.
Cassandra knew all this, had known it for years, since she had taken same route on her wedding day. But, unlike the others, she wore no black dress, only a simple shift of black cotton, peasant clothing that covered her lack of additional clothing. No one noticed her, as it was, since she wasn’t on the Procession, but watching it from the side of the path.
She stood there, watching herself pass by on the Procession, leaned up against a tree and mind empty of empty of everything as she watched the demon pretending to be her pass by. She shuddered softly, the wizard’s voice in her head again, whispering lies of mercy and release. She could feel his hands beneath the shift and she no longer felt hatred or loathing at his phantom touch. Only a longing for an ending to the pain and abuse. She spread her legs a bit as she leaned against the tree and watched through dull eyes at her infernal twin as she passed by, eyes red from crying they would say later. The crowd around her took no notice of her it seemed, other than to move around her to get a better look at the Procession. They could not see the wizard as he took her, then and there, pressing her up against the rough bark of the tree, forcing a small wail from her throat. One of many that filled the Procession’s passage, as it was, for this was as much a funeral as a Celebration.
Cassandra, covered as she was, could only hold the tree for balance and shudder, being forced forward into the oak, and the damnable wizard’s voice unending in her head, offering mercy in return for her obedience. Even now, he still wanted her broken. Her eyes never left the Procession’s passage, and as it vanished into the trees, her own plundering ended as swiftly as it had begun. Another wail left her throat, one of need and loss. It, too, was lost in the cacophony of such sounds that followed the Procession.
She pushed herself away from the tree, ignoring the coaxing voice in her head. Stepping on unsteady legs a few steps before the world was filled with light and a silent roar, and she found herself elsewhere, another spot along the Procession’s path, again she was ahead of it, and again, feathery fingers were caressing her skin, coaxing unwanted and needed feelings from her traitorous flesh. She sobbed aloud and found herself collapsing to the ground onto her knees amidst the crowd of watchers and mourners. Her sobs were choked off by phantom flesh as her lost sister who would be Queen once again passed by. Her thighs clenched reflexively around invisible flesh that plundered her unceasing and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks beneath the disguising and covering wrap.
By the time the Procession reached the Castle, her body ached from release and quivered from exhaustion. Throughout the seemingly eternal process of violation and denial, Belial’s silken voice filled her head with taunts and offers of mercy. She became aware of brighter lights, and slowly became aware of a speaking voice, not a mental one. She was in the Throne room, and a minister was speaking to the gathered crowd of peasants that filled the lower level where she herself stood. It was then that she realized something was set on display there. Torn and bloody armor, oh but how it still shone in the bright lights of the Throne room. Elric’s armor, she knew. Belial had told her he was dead, and relished telling her. But, now she saw proof of it. The proof needed to allow an Abdication of the Throne.
She could see the demon copy of herself, still dressed in black, veiled, as well as her own sister and the selected Elder that would oversee the ritual. Though her body ached from overuse, she pushed her way to the front of the crowd in a need to see this through to the end.
She nearly fell again; her legs were still weak from exhaustion, before a hand caught her and held her steady. She whispered a word of gratitude to the nameless peasant from beneath her cloak. Her demonic imposter was moving forward now, unsteadily as would be expected.
“I, Cassandra Aurora, Queen of the Realm and Leader of its Peoples do say now that I am unable to continue in my duties. My heart overflows with grief and I can think of nothing else. There are others that can better serve and protect the Realm than I ca-“
Cassandra was distantly aware of the Infernal’s talent at mimicry and nearly missed the shout that cut her off.
“Hold!”
She thought she had finally lost her mind to delusion when she recognized the voice. Turning her head to the striding figure, she found herself sure of it, and again, she hit the floor as the room exploded into cheers and screams of disbelief.
Elric strode through the crowd, parting it without touching a single person, his eyes on the Cassandra mimic on the dais. Waves of hatred and surprise flowed through her mind, suddenly, and she realized the wizard was still linked to her. He had not seen this. This was not a mind game. This was her husband, come home, and he was walking right into the arms of an Infernal monster.
That thought was enough to wrench from her feelings she’d banished months ago. Searing hatred and a need to survive. She struggled to her feet and opened her mouth, screaming aloud to Elric. She took a second breath to scream again, and her throat froze up on her, the scream locked behind clenched jaws. An oozing feeling of cold wrath flowed into her mind and she found herself unable to move as Elric reached the dais and climbed it, smiling broadly at the sobbing and reaching Succubus that pretended to be her.
“Watch as he dies now, ripped apart and given to the crowd.”
The crowds were wild now, and it sounded as though the city itself was again aware that their King had returned, seemingly from the dead. Cassandra could only stare in horror, silently, as her husband lifted the copy from the ground and embraced her to the crowd’s cheering screams. The Infernal creature continued the charade, collapsing into Elric’s arms and began to smile before suddenly shrieking violently and trying to pull away from him. Cassandra was again shocked to see smoke rising from their embrace.
The crowds screamed again, this time in surprise as their Queen tore herself away from Elric and sprouted horns, her mimicry torn away in pain and surprise at the searing touch from the Paladin.
Again, shock and hatred flowed into Cassandra’s frozen form from the hidden wizard as his plan began falling apart. The Throne room was quickly disintegrating into a chaotic scene as the guard tried to push through the crowds and the Succubus threw off her remaining disguise and hissed at the Holy fighter as he stood there, seemingly unsurprised at this turn of events. He had a look of contempt and disgust on his face at the sight of the Infernal and drew his sword without a word.
He managed to pull it free of its sheath when he was struck from behind in a flash of light and thrown down the dais. The elderly minister lowered his hand again, rippling and changing form, growing some height and glowering murderously at Elric. The wizard lifted his hand again when the King struggled to his feet, and uttered a few words before he himself was struck by something glowing and crackling.
Cassandra found herself free suddenly, stumbled to her knees and ripped the cloak off her head. She found herself staring at the hate-filled gaze of a tall blonde woman, garbed in red robes and wielding a smoking length of wood. Celeste lifted the wand again and aimed another blast of Lightning at the staggered Belial, triggering it with a snarling curse.
Elric, in turn, staggered to his own feet and turned just in time to be tackled by the bestial Succubus, all teeth and claws now. Her former beauty made a lie by this horrible visage. They went tumbling down the dais now, as the guard filled the room with flying crossbow bolts that largely did no good against either of the wizards or the succubus.
Cassandra, herself, found herself torn between rushing to help Elric and charging Belial himself as he and Celeste traded magical strikes of lightning and fire.
She realized, suddenly, that she knew what he was going to do before he actually acted. The link was still active. And he was too occupied to do anything about it. She knelt down and moved closer to the wizard, as close as she could and tried not to see or hear the shrieks of the Succubus as it struggled with her husband, alive, alive!
Belial was seething with barely controlled rage at the complete fumbling of this, his last step of his revenge. His mind was focused completely on the thrice-bedamned sorceress that had escaped her cage of infernal flesh, somehow. This time, he would fry her flesh, flay her bones, cook her heart in her own chest, damn her meddling. Through this tirade of internal cursing, his mind ran through the weave of spell casting, throwing bolts of energy, green webbings and glowing globes of acid at the Sorceress, who was beginning to give way to the relentless assault. A fierce grin exploded across his face as he pressed his assault and then his world consisted of pain, glorious pain and horrible humiliation, he was adrift in a swirl of lust, suffering and hatred. So much raw pain and emotion filled his mind to overflowing; he could take no more, not and live.
Belial collapsed suddenly then, limp as a puppet missing its strings, and Cassandra sobbed her relief as she fell back, as well. She covered her face with her hands and wept full tears. Silence prevailed in the Throne room and a shadow fell over her, covering her in darkness again. She shrieked suddenly and cowered back, only to be seized and lifted to her feet and then, embraced tightly. Soft words filled her ears, words of comfort, familiar words in a loved voice that she had never thought to hear again, and she held on to him, as though her life depended on it. In her mind, it did.
Much later, Cassandra learned that Belial’s defeat sent the succubus back to the Hells instantly. Before she learned that, though, she spent many days and nights sleeping the sleep of the pardoned. When she would wake, Elric would be there, sleeping, eating or tending to matters of state. Often, she would wake from nightmares of humiliation and dreams of luxurious pleasures. He would always be there, and so she would sleep again. She would learn, later, that Celeste’s Order had gone looking for her, and having learned the extent of Belial’s sins, had moved to aid the Kingdom directly by spiriting Elric away at the site of his near-death. Belial himself was taken away by the Order for punishment. Elric made it completely clear to the Order that whatever punishment they deemed fit would not be enough. Whatever they told him, in turn, made him nod in satisfaction. Cassandra saw none of that, though, and it would be many months before she found dreamless sleep and a degree of peace again. When she did though, she found she was changed, irrevocably. Whatever she had been before, she knew now that she would always be, in part, that panting needing sexual creature. In time, Elric came to relish this part of her, even though a part of her would always crave the humiliation Belial had give her, hand in hand with the pleasure.
Belial opened an eye slowly, his head full of broken glass, it seemed. He could hardly think and his body ached horribly. He tried to sit up, then and became aware of several things. One, he was restrained by some leather ties. Two, he was completely nude. And three, he was no longer a ‘he’ at all. A wave of shock washed through him as he realized he had been changed, polymorphed into a woman. And not just any woman, but a woman of epic proportions. A spell came to his/her lips instantly, one that would free him/her from this place and spirit him/her away to his/her home. It failed, not even a fizzle. Curses spilled from his/her lips into the echoing room, hard words from his/her newly soft lips. Some laughter answered his/her curses and s/he turned his/her head to Celeste as she stepped forward out of the shadows.
“Hello Belial. As punishment for your sins, you will suffer as you have made others suffer. You will feel all the pain you have made them feel. And that is quite a lot.”
A lumbering rumble stole his/her attention from the sorceress and screams filled the room as a pair of identical Infernal creatures stepped forward out of a Summoning circle and fell upon the restrained Belial. The screams were quickly choked off and Celeste watched for a time before leaving the room, gruntings and Infernal laughter drowning out the whimpering sobs and screams as she left.
Far to the North, Alaya stood at the window of the Tower and sobbed her own tears of loss. Her teacher, lover and Master had been taken from her. After so many years of clandestine meetings and secret lessons, they’d had a short sweet time together, exploring so much, learning so much. He’d found her in her Monastery and liberated her from the staid existence she’d been resigned to living. He’d shown her the strength in her soul to take what she wanted, what she deserved. And for that, they’d killed him. She couldn’t feel him anymore, and he’d always said what that would mean. She’d barely escaped the debacle in the Throne room and found her way back to their Tower. As his apprentice, she was heir to everything that he’d had and been. And, she decided, that meant his vengeance, too. She wiped her face, the last tears she would ever weep. She pressed a hand to her stomach lightly, thinking on the future and the child that he had gifted to her. A part of him none of them could ever take. She would make them all suffer, yes. Her and her child.
She was sure it would be a boy.