Chapter 11: Hounds

Orhan’Da screamed—screamed like the hounds were in her flesh, her anger and frustration boiling over like tainted magic that had bloated and burst forth.

The doors to her chambers were slammed open and Acro’Nor stamped over the furs, his eyes wild and his head swiveling from side to side. “What is it? What has happened?”

She convulsed, jumped off the mattress, the pain in her face smarting as she took momentary pause, wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. When the blood came, she remembered—remembered that little bitch-dog Harrkania’Dar! Her knuckles had been the last thing Orchan’Da had seen after being surprised. Just as she had begun her incantations.

Frustrated that she had not achieved her aims this night, the blood enraged her even further further. “Find her!” snapped Orchan’Da. “Find her now!”

Acro’Nor was searching about, rifling through the curtains before finally wandering to the open windows. He glanced down when Orchan’Da screamed again in wordless fury.

She wanted to slash something to pieces, gore one of her slaves perhaps.

“Who do you speak of, my Princess?”

“That bitch! It was Harrkania’Dar!”

“What?” asked Acro’Nor, the sudden surprise on his face not one Orchan’Da had seen often. “She was here?!”

“Yes, you dimwit—did I not say her name correctly? Need I say it again? Harrkania’Dar—was here!—in my chambers!”

Acro’Nor pulled the rope inside and looked at it. “And she has left with your slave.”

The giantess managed to hike up her dress which had nearly fallen to the furs on the floor, then she grabbed the curtains and ripped them from the bed and growled. “I am going to strangle that bitch!”

“They could not have gotten far.”

“No,” said Orchan’Da, her anger, seething, was dimming to a smoldering ember now. Losing Falinor was a frustration, the indignity of being hit in the face during her sex with him—and by her no less, an insult!

She would sacrifice the human, and she would have her revenge on the princess of Dar—that little outcast virgin-slut!

Acro’Nor did not need to be told what to do next, as he moved out of her chambers and called for the guards. Once they were in the halls, he commanded that the hounds be released—that the human prisoner and Harrkania’Dar were to be found, and that a party would assemble to meet them on the hunt.

The guards glanced at one another in mild surprise and confusion, but Acro’Nor pointed a commanding finger at them. “Go!”

They bowed, then left to do their bidding as Orchan’Da looked at herself in her mirror. She grabbed the crooked bridge of her nose, the bones made a sound that normally would set her skin to prickling, but she gritted her teeth and bared the pain like a giantess should.

She would use a spell to heal herself—and no mark would be left upon her beautiful face. But Harrkania’Dar—she would make the girl suffer, to bear the marks of her revenge for the rest of her days, should she even remain alive.

She growled, her eyes landing near the little shrine of Xuadryn the Demon Messenger, the statue of his four-armed form and his terrible visage shadowed with the light of the surrounding candles illuminating the curves of the figure in yellow-orange light. A rage took her then and she had the urge to grab it all and throw it to the floor—but she did not.

She would not disrespect the demonic powers.

Acro’Nor glanced at her from behind. She saw him through the reflection in her mirror. The drugs were still in her system. Her vision was hazy and the wetness between her legs still present. Her sorcerous needs were unmet, and her physical desires not sated.

“Leave me,” she commanded as she dipped her hand in the wash basin and began to wipe the blood away from her ivory-white flesh.

Acro’Nor bowed swiftly and left her chambers, closing the doors as he went. She wasted no time. The giantess and sorceress, Princess of Da, stalked to her other chambers where she kept her raiment perched atop a wooden dummy.

She looked at it, touched the separated armor pieces she had not warn to battle. The upturned shoulder pauldrons were an intimidating part of the set, curving and sharp—they looked like they could skewer a wild boar.

Then something inside her grinned. She allowed the emotions to show upon her face. He had gotten away—had been rescued. Had Falinor somehow orchestrated that? Why would Harrkania’Dar rescue a human from her vast collection of slaves and prisoners?

She would reach the bottom of this well of mysteries and she would pluck its sweet truths from the throats of them both, even if she had to rip out their stomachs to get it.

The desire between her legs intensified suddenly. Feeling Falinor inside her—it had been excellent, enthralling. She wanted him.

His escape…

It made her want him even more.

She growled, making a toothy smile as she anticipated their next meeting. She would capture them. They would not get far.

Orchan’Da was going to fuck Falinor like a wild beast infused with wells of maligned sorcery as she drained every drop of his life force and magic—adding it to her own sorcerous powers.

Remembering their march to Furan, Orchan’Da had seen Falinor speaking to a mage, encouraging him. They knew each other. Which meant that if he gave her trouble, she could use that against him, force him to obey her.

The giantess laughed, a low-sounding cackle in the back of her throat. After dawning her raiment and leaving her chambers, she went into the audience hall where the guards scurried about in preparation for their hunt.

“Bring the prisoners along!” she howled with delight. "Bring the little sorcerer to me!"