Date: Mon, 25 Jul 2016 04:15:08 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 28-The Orb of Winter-Gay Science Fiction

This story is protected under international and Pan-American copyright
conventions. Please remember to donate to Nifty if you're financially able
to do so.

      MY WEBSITE: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html
      My email: kavrik@hotmail.com
      Pictures of the characters in this story: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/my-artwork.html
      Full story chapters and discussion: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html

For those of you who can't wait for new chapters, please visit my forum
where I post months ahead.  The chapters are bigger there than they are on
Nifty. To see for yourself please go to

http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html

and find the folder that says "The Orb of Winter" and then open that up to
view the chapters. Please note that the chapter order here will differ from
my forum because I cut the chapters into smaller chunks for Nifty's
audience. Also, if you aren't on my mailing list and want to be, please
shoot me an email.

Please check out my books on my website.

				   *****

			   Chapter Twenty-Eight

   Skellhaundar strode down the cell block to where Ser Ephram Skye awaited
him in chains.
   Through a closed door on his right, he heard heavy grunting, the sound
of flesh on flesh, and the muffled cries of a male slave having a shadow
queen's egg fertilized in his colon.
   Skellhaundar smiled; rape and pillage both were a man's right as a spoil
of war.
   He'd personally acquired the man at the market a few days ago. A hairy
forty-something former pirate with a gut, Skellhaundar reasoned that the
Sulasian had a strong enough constitution to birth a litter of shadow
demons. These would go to replace the ones his men had lost to the assassin
that vanished into thin air last night. And to be truthful, good pickings
were hard to come by in this country as most of the men and women looked
ugly as a mud fence.
   No wonder flesh crafting is so popular here, Skellhaundar thought. I
just hope the Adonis Tea keeps my men hard enough to complete the
procedure. It would have been nice if they didn't have to use it, but those
situations are exceptionally rare in this god-forsaken country. And that
assassin...I don't even have a description of his face. Just black
armor...find a tall man wearing black armor, and he looked skinny. That's
the fucking description Skellhaundar's men had to go by; the fact that he
had nothing better infuriated the general.
   As of last night, Skellhaundar had five patrols going door-to-door in
every borough of Slippery Squib. If they found nothing, he'd given Makidon
Oberon permission to widen the search to the rest of the holy city: The
Hollows, Fish Town, Sooty Shingle, the Minge, Well Bottom, The Gift, and
even Coral Cove if they needed to. At least it'll give me a good excuse to
search the houses of a bunch of rich fucks, Skellhaundar thought. Who the
fuck would dare attack my men? And in my city? That smug Valion knight
knows, and I'm going to make him tell me.
   He walked past another room, this time with an open door. Just inside, a
pair of Dread Masters (clerics of Taleta) inspected a man whose head was
enveloped by a newly-born shadow queen. Its octopoid tentacles wrapped all
the way around the man's head, and the embryo shell from which it was
birthed remained attached to the concrete wall via strong, sticky
webbing. A yellow sac on the shadow queen's mantle pulsated. This meant
that soon it would implant the egg in the man's paralyzed body. The
conception began with a long flexible proboscis that forced its way down
the esophagus, through the stomach, and into the upper
intestine. Skellhaundar had no idea if this part hurt, but he professed a
scientific curiosity if he ever found the time. Shortly after the egg was
placed on the intestinal wall, the shadow queen would die and its soul
supposedly returned to hell. Sages who had studied the phenomenon said that
shadow queen embryos came from a temple that contained the Queen of Demons
herself on Hell's lowest plane, a place called "The City at the Edge of
Midnight." Skellhaundar had never been there but had always wanted to go
(if anything) just to see the giant clock tower at city center. Beneath it
(rumors said) squatted the Basilica of Eternal night.
   Once fertilized by five men (usually over the course of an exhausting
four hours), the egg of a shadow queen would drain fat from the host
eventually dissolving even his skin. This of course left a mostly bloody,
if barely living mess behind. Then it would hatch, and shadows would emerge
from the man's ruined anus—how many was determined by the host's
constitution, but never more than five. Obese men produced more shadow
demons, and they were very loyal to the Timeron knights that gave them
life.
   A knight wearing silver spurs stood to one side of Ephram's cell. He
saluted Skellhaundar and then opened the door. The general gave the tall,
handsome man a nod and then walked in, with hands clasped behind his
back. The general glanced at the snow streaming through a barred window
twenty feet above his shoulder, and then glanced upon the Crimson Guard who
stood shackled to the wall.
   He is my equivalent rank in the army of Thomas, god of wolves, war, and
winter, Skellhaundar thought. Would I have allowed myself to get captured
like this? I think not.
   Ephram didn't have his helmet on, but he still wore his white corobidian
armor and his gorgeous red cloak. He also still carried his sword strapped
to a thick leather belt. Skellhaundar felt no need to take those things
away. There was no escape from this place unless he allowed it.
   Behind Skellhaundar, a guard placed a chair. Then he left, closing the
door behind him.
   Skellhaundar took a seat and regarded his mortal enemy with hateful
eyes. Ephram lifted his head from where he stared at the floor, and his
brown hair draped sweaty and clumped over his tan face.
   "Do you hear those screams, Ser Skye?" Skellhaundar asked. "That's a
slave being raped so that a demon can be birthed from his asshole tomorrow
night. I think that'd be incentive enough to give me what I want. Someone
like you could produce at least one shadow demon, and I guarantee you the
experience would be the most horrible thing you've ever suffered. So I'm
going to ask you again. What is the password to get past the cibrian golem
in the Keep of Silverhawk?"
   Ephram tugged at the chains restraining his arms and legs. "I've got
nothing to say to you. If you were honorable, you'd face me one on one,
Darkglory shit."
   Skellhaundar stood up and walked over to Ephram, flexing the fingers in
his armored corobidian gauntlet. "Wrong answer," Skellhaundar said.
   He clenched his fist and struck Ephram across the jaw. Then he punched
the Valion knight in the face, breaking his nose. After this, he slammed
Ephram in the mouth, knocking a few teeth loose. He took a step back and
allowed a now bloodied Ephram Skye to spit a couple of bloody molars on the
ground. Red streamed from his nose and dripped over the front of his
tabard.
   "Where's my friend?" Ephram asked. "What have you done with Beryl
Loftcrag? I want to see him or I won't tell you a thing."
   "He's a prisoner of the Dreaded Irtemara," Skellhaundar said. "I'll send
word to her that you'd like to see your friend. In the meantime, I'm sure
there's things we can discuss."
   "I have nothing to say to you," Ephram replied.
   Skellhaundar punched Ephram in the gut as hard as he could. Then he kept
punching and kicking him over and over, choosing different spots to slam,
beat, and strike for about ten minutes. Because Ephram's armor was
corobidian full plate, Skellhaundar felt like he could use his full
strength in every blow without fear of killing him. So this was all just
fun. He just used the Valion knight's body as a punching bag, never
bothering to ask follow-up questions. It became a kind of game. When he
heard a bone break, Skellhaundar switched hands. He did so after ten such
"cracks."
   And Skellhaundar also wasn't without courtesy. He stopped for a few
seconds each time Ephram vomited up blood. He even patted Ephram on the
back, saying "There, there. You ready?"
   When he got tired, Skellhaundar sat back in his chair and stared at Ser
Ephram Skye who just hung from his bonds like a rag doll now, both
shoulders clearly dislocated and knees obviously hyperextended. He'd broken
half of Ephram's fingers, shattered a leg bone, and broke several ribs. The
knight's armor was dented in a dozen different places. Skellhaundar wiped
away the sweat from his brow and looked at his tabard and gauntlets in
disgust.
   Everything's going to need to be cleaned. I've gotten his fucking blood
all over, Skellhaundar thought. Then he flicked his wrist, tossing blood
droplets from the creases on his fingers.
   "Do you see this mess you've made?" Skellhaundar asked. Then he realized
how stupid a question that was. Both eyes on Ephram's face had nearly
swollen shut from the beating. "I guess you don't at that. Knights of
Thomas are very inconsiderate, you know."
   The door opened to the cell and a guard carried in a tray holding a tall
glass of water, a pitcher, and a towel. Skellhaundar drained the glass in
one go and then said, "Thank you, Marty."
   Then he took the towel and wiped some of the blood off. While
Skellhaundar cleaned up, Marty grabbed a bucket and splashed Ephram's face
with it, washing away much of the caked blood. Then the guard left, closing
the door behind him once more.
   Skellhaundar walked up to Ephram, seized his matted locks and held his
face up. "This doesn't have to go on. Give me one piece of information,
would you? Who was that man that tried to save you last night? I need a
description of his face. He wore black armor, had an ornamental shield on
his arm about right here that showed a silver rose? He had on this weird
looking helmet faced all in black glass? Any clue? I know he works for
you."
   Ephram just stared at Skellhaundar through a swollen
lid. "I...don't...know," he managed to utter.
   "Ah," Skellhaundar said. "He was just a good Samaritan that happened to
wander by and saw this pine box and thought, `hey there's someone in there
that needs saving.' I see. Let's try another question. How many men did you
bring to Zanda? This one's easy. I know there's at least two...four if you
count the traitorous minotaur and the woman he killed in the barn back at
Alsamarax."
   When he said this name, there was a visible widening of that swollen eye
in Ephram's face.
   "That surprises you, doesn't it?" Skellhaundar asked. "It surprises you
that I know so much. Well, the death giants...Cirumoghel and Mara Kano I
think are the names...they started talking once I destroyed the thing that
made them immortal. That's what I do, see," Skellhaundar said. "I know how
to find anyone's weakness. You think you don't have one, Ephram Skye, but
you do. Where's the red-headed woman?"
   At this, Ephram struggled to stand but cried out in pain.
   "You didn't think I knew about her, did you?" Skellhaundar asked. "A
red-headed whore because no one that wasn't a whore would ever want you,"
the Timeron general said. He spit in Ephram's face and rubbed it in the
sticky blood beneath Ephram's right eye, swollen shut in a huge
hematoma. "Is she pretty? Does she like your cock?" Skellhaundar gripped
Ephram's codpiece and squeezed. "I wonder what she'd think about you if I
cut off your balls and fed them to the dogs. Do you think she'd let you
fuck her anymore? Guard!" Skellhaundar called out.
   The door opened and Marty peered in. "Yes, Ser Romax?"
   "Send for a surgeon. I think we need a castration," Skellhaundar said.
   "Yes, ser," Marty said, and then closed the door.
   Ephram glared at Skellhaundar and said, "Please...don't do this. You're
a knight. We may be mortal enemies, but please let me face my death as a
whole man. I would never do that to you were you my prisoner."
   The door opened, and a man in a white lab coat pushed a cart inside. On
it were several sharp scalpels. Skellhaundar grinned and ripped off
Ephram's codpiece. The young man's sweaty circumcised dick fell out. About
five inches flaccid, it was ringed in a wiry brown, but barely-there bush.
   "I think I expected more," Skellhaundar said. "Bet you've never heard
that, have you? All the women in your life just lie to you because of your
station. Pathetic." Skellhaundar pushed Ephram's penis aside and gripped
the knight's jewels in his cold gauntleted fist. "If I squeeze hard enough
will one pop free? Should we find out?"
   "Please," Ephram begged. "I would never do this to you."
   "Why should I let you die a whole man if you won't work with me here,
Ser Skye? Give me something...tell me your whore's name."
   Behind Skellhaundar's shoulder, the surgeon began sterilizing a gleaming
scalpel. Then he filled a jar with alcohol so that Ephram's testicles could
be stored for later use.
   "Her name's Annie," Ephram blurted out, voice desperate. "Please...don't
cut me." Then the knight wept.
   Skellhaundar let Ephram go and turned to the surgeon. "Your services are
no longer required." He walked over to his chair and sat down; the guard
and the surgeon both left and locked the door behind them.
   "So tell me about Annie," Skellhaundar said, pouring himself another
glass of water. "I have so many questions about her and your companions.
The password can wait until later. I promise, Ser Skye, that when I kill
you that you'll still be a whole man. I won't remove anything. Now that we
see eye-to-eye, however, it's time you gave me a little more of what I
want. Baby steps, right?"


				   *****

The complete novel is now available to read at
http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html under the label
"The Orb of Winter" if you care to read ahead.

Are there any artists out there willing to draw some pics for my story? If
so, please email me. There is an "Orb of Winter" map now in both the NEWS
section of my website and in the FORUMS of my website.

If you go to my website directly from this posting, you will want to begin
with "CHAPTER TWENTY" and skip to the first set of three asterix (***).