Blackjack Wayward

Chapter Eight

I awoke alone, surprisingly refreshed, but with no specific memory of my time with the girls. There were a dozen empty Artenanka bottles on the nightstand beside the bed, and I did recall something about pouring the liquid on the girl’s bodies and drinking from every cupped part of their figures that I could imagine. But the images of the event were hazy, distant, and I didn’t physically feel as if I had experienced the flashing thoughts that wandered through my head. I reached down and touched my groin, and noticed also missing was that distinct, wasted feeling from the aftermath of sex.

I groaned and sat at the end of the bed, noticing a set of magnificent Vershani armor held aloft in a metal frame, and I knew the girls had been busy. The frame was designed for easy access of the armor, so you could just slip into the whole thing from behind, but the frame was designed for a smaller person, an average-sized Vershani. The armor was sized for me, and dragged all the way to the floor, but I wasn’t going to try it on just yet. I needed a bath and underclothes, which I couldn’t spot anywhere in the room.

“Elgar!” I yelled, and a few of the new guards ran into the room. I didn’t recognize the new men, but they were a tough bunch, more like Hroneth in build, and looked like they could handle themselves.

“You called, Daikhan?”

“What?”

He bowed, suddenly embarrassed.

“What did you call me?” I said.

One of the other men answered, “Daikhan, my lord.”

I racked my brain for an explanation, remembering the council meeting.

“Ah, sorry,” I said.

“Forgive us, lord,” said the first guard.

I laughed, “It’s okay. I’m just ... I had a little bit too much Artenanka. Where are the girls?”

The guards looked at each other before the first one answered. “They needed rest, sire.”

“That’s fine,” I said, laughing further and standing. “I’ll bathe myself.”

They followed me down the stairs, eager to get my attention.

“What?” I said, halfway down.

“Do you wish for us to get them?” said another indistinguishable guard.

“The girls, sire?” said the other.

I paused a moment, and finally shook my head, continuing down into the big pool. The water was cold and refreshing and after a few minutes of leaning against the edge, I slipped back to sleep.

“Sire,” Elgar awoke me, crouching by the edge of the pool beside me. At first glance, he looked a little sweaty and nervous.

“Hey, there you are.”

He smiled, “Forgive me, I am now Centurion and have to oversee all your men.”

I shrugged, “No problem. I just missed you, little guy. Where’s the other guy....”

“Hroneth,” Elgar said, pointing to him. Like always, Hroneth was leaning against something, casually ignoring everything. He gave me a little nod and returned to what he was doing, studying the patterns of paint on the wall.

“Okay, good. Just checking,” I said and Elgar stood, his demeanor less jumpy. “Hey, let me ask you something ... you don’t mind if I ask you something personal?”

He did – I could tell from how badly he lied when told me it was fine – but I didn’t care. Something was eating at me.

“The girls,” I started. “I had a few of them over last night. Do they have some trick that they drug you or something?”

Elgar shrugged, utterly confused.

“Because I was with a few of them, you know? And it was cool ... but ... it’s just ... I don’t feel like I ... It’s weird.”

He swallowed hard, “You had difficulties?” he said, and Hroneth chuckled.

“No,” I said. “No, it’s not that. Shit!”

Hroneth stepped over. “He might need a vial of Laesenath.”

Elgar chopped back at Hroneth to be quiet and stay out of it, returning apologetically to me, as if it was some sort of Vershani insult.

For his part, Hroneth just looked dumbfounded, “It might help,” he muttered.

“Please forgive–” Elgar said.

“No, Elgar, it’s okay. And it’s not that, Hroneth. Not at all.”

I paused, dunking myself into the water one last time and coming out of the pool.

“What is it, then?” Elgar asked as I climbed out.

“I was with them, and I remember things. I have memories of the thing, but my body ... you know how ‘after,’ you feel a certain way?” I waved my hand over my crotch and they both nodded, though from the stupefied look on their faces, I could tell they didn’t completely follow.

“There’s a feeling of release, a feeling down there, you know?”

Hroneth kept half-nodding.

“I don’t feel it. I was wondering if your women did something, I don’t know, maybe they have some sort of hormone or pheromone that....”

I looked at one, then the other, and saw both were completely bewildered.

“Never mind,” I said and walked to the stairs just as some of the girls returned, carrying bundles of cloth. “Where is Rai?” I asked, once I realized the girl was missing.

“My lord,” one said, bowing first. “She is resting after seeing the priest.”

I led them up the stairs, “Why did she see the priest?”

The girl blushed, “She was injured, Daikhan.”

We entered the room and the girls instantly went to work drying me and clothing me with undergarments for the armor.

“Who injured her?” I demanded, and the girl’s eyes flashed open in horror, too stupefied to answer. “Did I injure her?”

The girl lowered her head, nodding.

“How?” I almost asked, but didn’t dare, afraid of what her answer would be.

The women continued clothing me, wrapping a loincloth around my crotch at first, then weaving an undershirt and holding a pair of leather leggings for me to stick my legs into.

“I can get her for you, if you like,” Elgar asked me, a wave of worry crossing his face.

I shook my head.

“She will be fine soon, sire.”

Hroneth laughed, drawing a glare from me and reproof from the new Centurion.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing, Daikhan.” Elgar snapped. “He’s a fool.”

“Answer me, Hroneth,” I said.

He shrugged, “I was merely thinking that we shouldn’t judge you.”

“For what?”

“I like humping rather rough as well,” he said, though I wasn’t sure if he was answering the question, as he looked up and seemed to reminisce.

“Be quiet, brother,” Elgar said.

I shrugged off the girls, who had started putting on the leather-padded armor piece by piece.

“No, he can explain himself,” I demanded, and despite my growing anger, Hroneth was unaffected.

He smiled. “There is a fine line between pain and pleasure that I like to explore.”

Elgar blushed, shaking his head in frustration from not being able to control his partner.

“Perhaps that is why I have never been married,” Hroneth continued, looking out the large balcony as if having a conversation with himself. “Few girls of importance will accept much more than a light spank. Remember the two sisters we met....” he drifted off.

“Valas and....” Elgar recalled. “I can’t remember the name of the other one.”

Hroneth shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“That was the one you were with,” Elgar said.

“My point precisely. You see, Blackjack, these girls weren’t....” he looked at the girls that had returned to clothing me.

“They weren’t slaves,” Elgar said, finishing his friend’s thoughts as he often did.

Laughing, Hroneth continued, “I grabbed her hard, as we got closer to ... the ending, you know?”

I nodded.

“And she was horrified,” he went on. “So I spanked her chest, and she liked that less.”

“Show him,” Elgar urged the other. “Let him see.”

Hroneth looked at his chest, “I’ll have to take this all off!” he complained then looked at me and crossed his chest several times, as if clawing at himself. “The girl left her mark,” he said, laughing.

“And she had long nails,” Elgar added.

“The worst scars I’ve ever had, and I’ve been in battle....” Hroneth trailed off, counting in his head.

“Many times,” Elgar said.

“Yes, many times.”

They laughed and I tried joining in, but the Centurion could tell my apprehension.

“Do not worry about the girls, Daikhan. Just bumps and bruises. They will heal fast.”

Hroneth scratched under his chest armor, “Besides, after we take the capital city, there will be thousands of noble women to hump. Fine women.”

“Don’t bother the Daikhan with talk of war,” Elgar said, trying to cover for his friend.

“We’re taking the capital city?”

“Come, Hroneth,” Elgar said, motioning for his friend to follow him as he eased back to the stairs. “Let’s let Lord Blackjack get dressed in peace.”

I stepped forward, grabbing him by his arm.

“Hang on a second,” I said, and I saw him almost snap at me before his eyes glazed over with fear. I moved him so that I stood barring his way to the stairs, the only way out of this room.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, flashing a hateful glare at Hroneth.

“Explain yourself.”

Hroneth was still scratching, watching us with a curious look.

“Explain what?” Hroneth said, not aware of what was happening between Elgar and me.

The Centurion’s horrified look said this was something he wasn’t supposed to tell me.

“You know something, Elgar. I want to know.”

“To know what?” Hroneth continued.

“You said we’re taking the city, f*cking the noble women.”

He nodded, “Oh, yeah.”

“I thought this was a civil war,” I said, not knowing why I was growing so squeamish at the thought of pillaging a city.

Elgar nodded, “It is.”

“Right, we fight them and win, then the war is over,” Hroneth said. “It’ll be relatively civil.”

“But we’re taking the capital city?” I said

Hroneth stopped scratching and looked at me, confused. “Of course,” he said, as if I was being foolish. “That’s where the enemy army is, you see.”

“I don’t see,” I said.

Elgar stepped forward, “We aren’t supposed to talk in details, sire.”

“By whose orders?” I demanded, but I knew the answer, and waved him off. “Okay, if we’re in a civil war, why are we the ones taking the capital city? Why are they there?”

The two Vershani looked at each other a moment, before the Centurion answered. “We are attacking the capital city, Daikhan. We are replacing the present goddess with her majesty Aryani.”

“So we’re taking out the rightful rulers?”

Hroneth nodded, unconcerned.

“We will be rich beyond avarice, sire,” Elgar said, really trying to sell it. “You – you will be amongst the wealthiest of living creatures in the mist. Thousands of women to please you.”

The girls finished and I waved them off, my anger now welling over. I wanted to hit something, hard enough that the whole damned ship would crack in half.

“So you’re telling me that we’re going to kill a town full of people, kill their leaders, so we can take over? It’s not a civil war, it’s a rebellion. We’re f*cking terrorists.”

“I like that word,” Hroneth said. “Terrorist.”

“Where the f*ck is Drovani?” I said, now shouting. The girls fell to their knees and scrambled from me, shrieking in fear as I stormed out of the room.

“Sire!” Elgar said, running to follow me. “He’s with the goddess.”

I stopped at the stairs, so suddenly that Elgar ran into me. “Is he f*cking her?”

Elgar was horrified, afraid of the consequences of being the one that was feeding me information, but Hroneth, who was casually following was the one that answered, “Drovani does not f*ck the goddess,” he said. “She only f*cks the Seshine.”

“Yes, Daikhan. Drovani is merely discussing our grand strategy,” Elgar managed.

“I thought I was Seshine,” I said.

Hroneth laughed, “You are the Daikhan, Blackjack, not some sexbot Seshine.”

“Sexbot?”

He nodded, “she has them to satisfy her physical needs.”

“Them? How many?” I yelled, and for once Hroneth’s placid expression faded from his face.

“As many as she likes, sire....”

So she was f*cking everyone on the ship, except for me. I think we were going to see about that. I punched a wall, breaking the white material and leaving a massive crack in the room. The veins at the sides of my neck pulsed, and I could feel my skin begin to boil. I was losing myself to the rage, and I let go. I didn’t care. My teeth ground, and my jaw muscles clenched. The Vershani around me saw the transformation, saw my face twist into a mask of rage, and fear washed throughout the room. One of the slave females ran, screaming, and for some reason, that made me smile.

“Where are her chambers?” I said in a cruel whisper.

“Down the hall, sire,” Elgar said cringing in fear my next blow would take his head off. “I will–”

“I’ll find it,” I said, letting my rage guide me.

I pounded down the hall, and there, at the end of it, was a wide, circular antechamber with a dozen guards standing ready. They were professionals, sensing my mood as I approached, and all came to the ready with shields and spears. My anger grew exponentially with every step, but the guardsmen had a job to do, and they now stood in my way.

“Halt,” one said, readying his spear. “You are not allowed–” he gagged as I took the shaft of his spear and yanked him closer, ending his life with a single blow to the face. None of the other warriors hesitated, charging me with spears leveled, and in these confined spaces, they had a huge advantage.

But then again, I’m Blackjack.

I lifted the dead Vershani guard, his body still twitching, and hurled him at the shield wall. The body gained so much speed that when it hit the others, four men collapsed to the ground, draped with body parts. A spear flashed through, quicker than I could see, but the armor kept the blade from penetrating my skin. Grabbing the spearhead, I broke the blade from the shaft and threw it at an approaching warrior. Powered by my superhuman strength, the spearhead was an unstoppable missile, penetrating his shield and embedding itself deep into his chest. I lowered my shoulder and ran hard into the fellow with the missing spearhead, pressing him and another warrior into the nearest wall until their chests collapsed and blood fountained from their mouths. Others stabbed me from behind, jabbing at the back of my legs and my head and neck, but their weapons couldn’t break my skin.

I turned and glowered, “Run.”

But the men didn’t leave. They just died, one by one, each in a more horrifying fashion, my rage flowing through my fists into their bodies, crushing bones and skulls, tearing limbs off, leaving their lifeblood and innards staining the floor, serenaded by a chorus of agonizing cries of the men who were begging for death, men I left behind as I approached the main door. It was an elaborate affair that could only lead to one person’s chambers.

“Honey, I’m home!” I said, kicking the thing off its hinges and across the chamber. The heavy door tumbled through the room, demolishing the furniture, and finally coming to rest, half-embedded in a far wall.

I walked in, feeling the sticky blood that coated my armor, my face, and the uncovered portions of my arms and legs. Each step left a red mark from my passing as I entered the relatively dark room. One of the crushed pieces of furniture was some sort of birdcage, and the writhing creatures still lay inside the damaged metal frame. The door had left a long smear of destruction across the room as evidence of my coming. It was my first time inside her personal chambers. First was a welcoming area with several couches and chairs, damaged by the tumbling door. To the right was a large conference table covered with papers, some of which had fallen off due to my disturbance. Beyond, was a large, round bed; atop it lay the naked goddess. At the feet of the bed were two Vershani, each with impressive physiques for their kind, both naked and cowering in fear.

Aryani’s expression was one of rage and defiance, but she didn’t speak, sitting up and letting the sheet drop from her lovely frame. Then something, maybe an invisible hand, grabbed me, roughly, and I fell back. I blinked but there was nothing in sight, nothing that could have pushed me. Was it her magic? Was the goddess now going to show me who was boss? But looking at her, I saw nothing, just that defiant expression, the cold eyes upon me. I stood and walked up to one of the Vershani males, pulling him away from the sheets to reveal him fully erect.

“Please,” he begged as I put my hands around his neck, readying my grip so I could pop his head off. I stopped myself and readjusted my grip to his head, pressing hard until his skull collapsed and he died in a shrieking wail.

The other man made a move to run, but I crossed the room and grabbed him and hurled his flailing form into the far wall. His body cartwheeled into the wall and exploded through the alabaster, leaving only a smear of blood. I turned back to the woman, but something punched me in the stomach. I vomited, falling over, and saw some gelatinous goo come out of my mouth.

“Are you doing that?” I said, but it was a whisper. I couldn’t talk, something was stuck deep in my mouth, deep down my throat. I couldn’t breathe and almost collapsed to the floor, fighting the failing of my lungs, until a voice powered into the room, as if from the heavens.

“Take it out,” the voice said, but it was muffled, barely audible, despite echoing through my brain. I became aware of a light around me, illuminating the room; I looked across at Aryani’s beautiful form, her exquisite face, jaws clenched in anger that I would have interrupted her. I almost apologized, but the thought of that made me even angrier, made it easier for me to fight the emptiness in my lungs.

“You’re a whore,” I yelled despite my gagging. “A whore!”

The light became blinding, and when I tried to look past it, the details became fluid, like trying to see outside the pool while submerged. Was she summoning the gods to fight on her side? Was she using her powers to stifle me? She just sat there, unaffected by how I had mangled her lovers. She was sticky with sweat, and the bed was moist when I got to it, wet and warm.

“You will not touch me,” she said.

“I’m not going to touch you. I’m going to f*ck you,” I said, feeling the bone deep need to devour this woman. Somewhere at the periphery, I knew something else was happening, but it was fleeting. My skin tingled as a formless light started to surround me, and in the back of my mind I heard a voice, but neither thing was as real as her.

She recoiled from my touch, but I grabbed her leg, pulling her toward me and dropping her back on the bed. I dove atop her, forcing my hips into hers, splitting her legs apart. I pinned her down by the neck, and she gagged, choking as my massive weight closed off her air supply. I reached for myself as she struggled, her legs jerking in futile spasms as she tried to displace my hold on her.

“You will not touch me!” she croaked, little more than a whistle through her pinched windpipe, and her face changed. The lines became indistinct, almost featureless, then Apogee’s viridian eyes stared into mine, all seething hatred, then it lost form again.

I didn’t care, she was mine. I probed between her legs, roughly opening her labia for me, but something hit me again and I collapsed on her. I expected her to scratch at me, to go for my eyes as I struggled to penetrate her, to show her once and for all who was in charge around here. Not her, not Drovani, not some f*cking ancient ritual or prophecy. I’m Blackjack, you bitch, and in a second you’re–

Then I stopped.

I looked down and saw the horror on her face, felt my weight pressing down on her, and the anger and lust were sucked away as if in a vacuum, replaced with a shame so profound it dwarfed my worst anger, my deepest regret. I shifted my weight off her and she shuffled away like a child, taking the blanket with her to cover her nudity As she reached the head of the bed, I noticed her features fading, her color washing out, as if she were bleeding away into her surroundings.

My skin was still tingling and the voice in the back of my head was a beehive buzzing. I looked down and saw myself sheathed in a light brighter than anything in the room. I was coated in blood from the neck down, bits of gore clung to the blood as is congealed, and I saw the sheet Aryani covered herself with was awash in it as well. I found it hard to focus because the room around me started to lose detail, the same desaturation that I had noticed on Aryani extended to include it, and me. “I’m sorry,” I tried to tell her, but my mouth wasn’t functional and gazing in her direction, I couldn’t find her. The room spun and I was assaulted by that nauseous feeling when a rollercoaster reaches its zenith at the top of the track, moments before the deep plunge.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed again, ashamed and disgusted, hoping that despite the violent rolling that Aryani would be near enough to hear me, knowing that no apology could ever cover depth of my violation. But her form was nebulous, wafting, impossible to ascertain.

“Holy shit, I know this guy,” I heard a voice, again, deep from the light. Muffled as it was, I had an audience, and I was going to show them as well. Then I might get the respect I deserved.

“Wake up,” said another voice, and in my hindbrain, I knew there was a scuffle going on, just past the range of my senses. It lasted maybe a second, but I was focused on something else. My body wasn’t cooperating, regardless of how hard I tried to move. A moment later, I was on my back, and Aryani was over me like a sheet of fabric. I could see her face, fading, her hands on my arm, pushing away. Then the blanket peeled away, back into the light radiating from the ceiling, filling the whole room, swallowing it so nothing beyond its illumination was discernible. The corpses of the two dead Vershani, the floor or walls of the chamber were gone. Nothing remained but the fading form of Aryani, a fleeing image that I was already having a hard time remembering.

As she faded, a strange rush of feelings assaulted me. I felt moisture on my back then my whole body, and instead of a cloth-covered mattress, the bed had transformed and I was partially embedded in it. I felt naked, half floating in the goo. I couldn’t see the floor to look for it. My form stiffened and I couldn’t move as my arms were pinned to the bed. I flexed my left arm and felt sharp pain tear deep through it from fingertip to shoulder, but I heard popping sounds and I saw my hand encompassed by thick, heavy metal gauntlets. The glove looked hazy, and I realized my vision was clouded. Something was in my eyes, and that light had grown so bright that it washed away all detail. Had she killed me? Used one of her powers to send me to their afterlife?

I was cold, and that alone told me I wasn’t dead. Whatever I was lying in coated me with a viscous layer of goo that was chilling by the second. I could feel parts of my body getting colder and I shivered. I was surrounded, figures fading into one another, and in my mind’s eye, I could see the legion of Vershani warriors ready to impale me for my treason. I looked for Drovani, for my whore fiancé, but it was impossible to make out faces. One of the figures handled my face roughly, wiping some of the goo away, but feeling the cold gelatinous material streaking across my eyes did little to help me see. My hearing was muffled, as if something were lodged deep into my ear canals, but I could tell from the mumbling and fretting that something about the room stifled sound.

“I tell you this is Crashdown!” someone yelled, and that was the only reason I could make out the words. Crashdown? Where the hell was I? This made no sense; this had nothing to do with anything. There was only one person who had mistakenly called me that, and he was back on Earth.

Blinking made my vision worse, but then a cold fluid poured onto my face and I sputtered around it, disagreeing with the added chill.

“Water will help,” said a voice, the nearest of them, belonging to a figure that I now realized had been beside me this whole time. The figure’s arms moved and I felt the goo as it was scrubbed gently from my face. Was this the person that the goddess had summoned? I tried to speak but nothing happened, except me becoming aware of a wave of vomit that seemed destined for my throat. I coughed, doubling over, and felt my back separate from the goo on the bed, hearing a wet tearing as if I was embedded into the thing, but hands pushed me back.

“Easy,” the nearest voice said, and I relented as I was placed back into what I realized was a ovoid crystal creche. The voice was kind, and while muffled, the only link I had to the goddess, the only chance of getting back and finishing what I started.

More water poured over my face, chilly water that made me sneeze several times. Something was stuck in my throat, but any attempt to grab it was thwarted by the thick, encompassing gauntlets, but I was strong, right? I should be able to break almost anything.

I couldn’t. My fingers were free inside the metal gauntlets, weak and grasping at the empty space inside. I couldn’t even lift the things to break them against the sides of the bed.

And it wasn’t a bed; it was more like a half-pool, filled with gelatinous gunk that sloshed around with my fumbling. Someone poured more water over my eyes, and things were starting to become more and more visible. There were shapes, dressed and surrounding my “bed.” Some black, some white, but that was all I could discern. I tried to speak but couldn’t, tried to take the thing in my throat out, but couldn’t. Tried to vomit, but couldn’t.

“I gave this guy his name, man,” said the loud voice. I blinked to see who it was, but he was a blur, a shapeless mass. I could tell it was a man, though, because the voice was deep.

“This is not Crashdown, you fool!” said another man, the fellow who was closer. He was speaking louder, sounding a little perturbed.

I blinked hard, reaching for my eyes, but a hand pushed the useless appendages away and again I felt slight scrubbing.

“No, this is Blackjack, and I have been waiting for this moment” it said, and the voice came closer. Closer was worse, closer meant less detail, but as it leaned over me his face came into stark clarity. I caught a glimpse of a mustache and a long nose, of a balding head and a long severe face. Blinking harder, I saw his eyes, those cold, dead eyes I could never forget, eyes that had haunted me in my waking dreams.

The figure smiled, pleased that he had found me.

“Wakey, wakey,” he said, his voice glowing with playful elation.

He had found me.

Zundergrub had found me.