EULALIA, HIGH PRIESTESS of the SILVER RIVER
Being the third part of the Chronicles of the Silver River
Roxie quickly realised that carrying a dead body, even on a horse, is problematic. Especially so, when it is the naked body of your sister, whom you love dearly, and about whose death you are grief-stricken. Roxie really wanted to treat her with dignity and respect.
Even a body as slightly built as Tara’s is hard to move about up on a horse; in the end, after much effort, Roxie succeeded in getting Tara laying along Philo’s back, with her head on his mane, arms and legs hanging down either side. She covered her with the saddle blanket, but that did not cover her fully, her wrists and feet, with their nail wounds, were all too obvious. Roxie herself was forced to walk, leading Philo as he carried his precious load.
By this time there was other traffic on the road, farm carts, people on foot and on horseback, and Roxie was getting some strange looks. “My sister is ill,” she would say, “I am taking her back to Ystragarth.” Few looked convinced, but in these days people had learned to mind their own business. Yet Roxie knew that there would be chattering in the taverns in the evening.
Eventually, she reached the Silver River; the sun by now was high and scorching and poor Philo was parched. She led him to the water’s edge, and he drank deeply. She drank sparingly from her flask, trying to leave sufficient for the walk back to Ystragarth.
As she looked back along the road down which she had come, a cloud of dust and the thunder of hooves betrayed a rider or riders at speed. Roxie looked around apprehensively for cover; horses coming fast from Draen were not likely to be good, but there was none for several hundred yards, so she stood so as to shield Tara from view as much as possible, and drew her sword.
There were two of them. She thought she could take on two, even with them on horseback and her on foot. The leading horseman shouted “Whoa!” and they came to a halt in a cloud of dust. “Tara! My Tara!” he cried, in an agonising voice, and Roxie recognised Shevak, and his servant, Paul.
She put her sword away, Shevak was no threat.
“Oh, Tara, NO! How could I let this happen? Oh WHY did I not ride with you to Ystragarth?”
Seeing his grief brought her own back and her tears poured down her face once more.
For some minutes they grieved together. Paul got down from his horse, a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment on his face. They were stroking Tara’s hair, and kissing her, but Paul noted the agony frozen into the dead girl’s face; he too, had seen plenty of crucifixion, for him as a slave it remained a threat, one which he took as great an amount of care as possible to avoid. But the torture she had endured in the last hours of her life were plain to see in Tara’s face. He gulped, and looked away.
Then, suddenly, Roxie’s boiling anger at what had happened to Tara coalesced. It was Shevak’s fault, Tara had gone to him, she had loved him, and he had let this happen to her. Roxie slapped Shevak, hard, in the face.
Shevak stood for a moment, stunned. “What the fu…..”, then he leaned his face forward, and said, “Yes, Roxie! Hit me! Do it again! It WAS my fault! I should NEVER have let her out of my sight! In fact…..” he pulled out a dagger and held it towards her, hilt first,”…..please kill me! Go on! Slit my throat! I don’t deserve to live! I don’t even WANT to live without her! I don’t want ANYTHING except to have her back!”
She slapped the knife out of his hand, and it clattered across the road. “Oh don’t be so bloody stupid…we both loved her…..she wouldn’t want us fighting. Come here, you great plonker….”
And they hugged and wept for several more minutes, while Philo, the other horses, and Paul fidgeted.
Eventually Shevak stood back, feeling a bit guilty. He had an erection so hard that he was sure she would notice, and feeling that way about Roxie in the presence of Tara’s body was definitely not right. Roxie was unquestionably totally gorgeous, but, he reasoned, she had every right to be. Both Queen Barbaria and Penelope were lovely looking women; Barbaria after two pregnancies and Penelope after one still looked like teenagers, and Blaire, Roxie’s cousin, for all her coldness, had looks that men would kill for.
He pulled himself back together. “I’ll promise you this, Roxie. I WILL slit my father’s throat for this, and I WILL find out who betrayed me, and I will personally nail him to the largest cross that you have EVER seen, and I’ll make him eat his own balls while he hangs there!”
“Might have been a woman….” suggested Roxie.
“In that case she could eat her clit and then her tumescent nipples!” Shevak liked the word ‘tumescent’. He used it whenever he could.
Roxie nearly laughed, then remembering her situation said, “Come on, I need to get Tara home. What are you going to do?”
“I’m coming with you.” Shevak look grim again now. “My father is my enemy, you and your father are my friends.”
Roxie looked at Paul. They exchanged a glance that said “I’m not sure King Hengentre is going to see it that way…..” but she said nothing, and led Philo off in the direction of Ystragarth.
“Roxie,” called Shevak, “Have Paul’s horse. Let him lead yours.”
Obediently, Paul helped Roxie up onto his horse, and took over Philo’s reins. They set off in silence.
After a few minutes, Shevak said, “I don’t suppose you’d have a few words with your father on my behalf, would you? If I just stroll in and say ‘Hi, I’m Shevak, I was screwing your daughter and now she’s dead’ he’s likely to cut up a bit rough.”
“Shevak, PLEASE! If you think that’s sensitive, think again! Do you want another slap?”
“Sorry,” said Shevak, “I didn’t mean it to sound like that, but you know what I mean.”
“Yes, Shevak, I’ll speak to him. But if you’re so thick-skinned that you’ve forgotten that that is my sister laying there, just keep your gob shut.”
Silence.
“I did love her, you know, Roxie. I was telling my father this morning that I was going to marry her when he told me that he’d killed her.”
“I know you did….but please, Shevak, just shut up for now. I don’t want to talk about you and her. I knew you were lovers, and I did want her to be happy, but I knew it would end in trouble. I just didn’t realise how…. quick it would….come” Roxie subsided into quiet sobs. Shevak was sensitive enough to keep silent, this time.
Roxie wiped tears from her eyes for the hundredth time that day. As she did so, she became aware of a female figure coming down the road towards them.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “Shevak! Quick! Get down! Kneel!”
She leaped down from Paul’s horse, and knelt beside it. Shevak, without understanding, did the same. Paul was on his knees already by this time – he’d learned quickly and painfully the importance of deference at a very early point in his life.
“Your Grace!” Roxie bowed lower. Shevak and Paul copied.
“Rise!” ordered the newcomer. Shevak rose, and found himself looking at an incredible woman. Tall, darkly brunette, she wore a light outer cloak to protect what were clearly richly embroidered garments from the dust of the road. She, like the queens of Ystragarth and Aestrador, had the fine facial features that betrayed her Svendian origin, and eyes that seemed to look deep into one’s soul. The phrase that came into Shevak’s head was “….beautiful”, with the word preceded by an ellipsis, as one cast about for something better. It was the first time Shevak could remember using the title ‘Your Grace’ for someone so actually graceful.
Shevak was surprised that she ignored Roxie and even Tara at first, and focussed her attention on him.
“You are Prince Shevak of Heidraen.” Not a question, a statement. She raised a cool hand to his chin, and turned his head first one way, then the other; then walked around him, feeling the strength in his biceps, observing the straightness of his back. Shevak found it both unsettling and erotic….he felt like a slave – no, not a slave, a warhorse, being appraised for purchase. He wondered if she was going to open his mouth to examine his teeth.
She completed her circumnavigation of the surprised Shevak, then stood, gazing at him for several more seconds. Eventually, she spoke. “’Out of the Cowardice of Darkness cometh Valour; out of the Mists of Despair steps forth Hope.’ “
Shevak searched without success for a suitable response to this, eventually he asked, lamely, “Er, sorry, who exactly are you?”
“I am Eulalia, High Priestess of the Silver River.”
Roxie was, if anything, even more surprised by this exchange than Shevak. She knew Eulalia well, as royal princesses she and Tara had received their education from her, she loved Eulalia almost as much as she loved her own mother! Sure, she occasionally said and did strange things, High Priestesses were supposed to say and do mysterious things, it’s part of the job description. But this was stranger than most. And what was most surprising was that Eulalia had not yet responded at all to Tara, whereas Roxie knew that Eulalia loved Tara deeply.
As if reading her thoughts, Eulalia broke the spell. She disconnected her gaze from Shevak, and finally addressed Roxie, “Oh, Roxie, this is terrible!” She opened her arms and Roxie fled into them. For a moment the two women hugged together, weeping, then they crossed over to Tara, and, not for the first time, Tara was asked, “Oh, what have they done to you?”
Tara’s look of frozen agony informed any that saw her that it had not been very nice. For a few moments they stroked her hair and lamented.
Roxie and Shevak told Eulalia what they knew of the events surrounding her death.
Suddenly, Eulalia snapped upright. “Right, we need to get off this road. Follow me.”
On the left of the road was the Silver River, but on the right was woodland. Near where they had met a small track led into the woodland, along which Eulalia led the group. Within a quarter of a mile the track opened into a large clearing.
Eulalia turned and addressed them. “This is not some mistake, some cock-up by Sciuridan. Yes, he’d have more sense than to deliberately murder a princess of Ystragarth, but someone has made this happen.
Someone has subtly misled him to do this. We need to know who. I have my suspicions, but I need to know for sure.” She looked at Tara. “She knew, I’m sure. At some point before she died, whoever it was would have come to see the fruits of their labours.”
“Now,” she continued, “you must do EXACTLY what I tell you. Whatever happens over the next few minutes, you MUST NOT touch me, or in any way attempt to help me. You may be distressed, but you must obey this.” She reached inside her robes and drew out some parchment and a pencil, these she gave to Paul. “What I do need you to do is to write down exactly what I say.”
Once again, Roxie was confused. “Are you……going to make her better?”
“In a way, yes, my dear, but I fear that I cannot restore her to life. Now, remember – follow my instructions precisely. If you touch me, you will die, and so will I.”
“Now, lay Tara on the grass, here.”
Unfortunately, by this time Tara had developed rigor mortis and this task proved difficult, but they managed to lay her on the grass on her side, her body covered by the blanket, but her head and face exposed.
Eulalia knelt beside her and placed her hands on her head. For some minutes she chanted, quietly, using a language none of them understood. The glade fell silent, no birds sang, no animals rustled in the undergrowth. All Shevak could hear was the gentle chanting of her voice, and the pounding of his heart.
“I AM TARANTHALA, PRINCESS OF YSTRAGARTH!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!"
Eulalia had leaped to her feet, she was struggling violently.
“LEAVE…….ME……ALONE!!!! LET ME GO!!!! I ORDER YOU TO LET ME GO! AARGH!!”
She fell violently, kicking punching, biting at thin air. The three watchers stared, transfixed, terrified. Then Paul pulled himself together, and began writing, but Shevak and Roxie just gaped at Eulalia, this was so far outside their experience! Roxie stepped forward, but Shevak grabbed her arm, “No! Roxie! Remember what she said!”
Suddenly, Eulalia started to undress. No! She wasn’t undressing, she was being stripped by unseen hands. Her clothes flew, landing all round the glade.
“NO!!!! NOO!! LEAVE ME!!! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! I AM A PRINCESS, NOT A SLAVE!!"
By now, Eulalia was nude, trying to shield her breasts and her womanhood with her hands, but to no avail, as her hands were drawn above her head, and Eulalia stretched up on tiptoes. Her hands remained in exactly the same point in space, as bloodcurdling screams erupted from her, she convulsed as great red weals appeared on her back, on her buttocks, and on her breasts.
This went on for some minutes, until she collapsed to the ground, weeping. Roxie covered her eyes, but Shevak stared, struggling between horror and arousal, as Eulalia-Tara was forced onto her bloodied back, her knees and her labia parted, and she began to jerk violently on the ground. All the time she was screaming and protesting. Cum leaked out of her. Fury took over Shevak as he realised that this meant that Tara had also been raped by those scum, and this time it was Roxie who had to restrain him from rushing over to Eulalia.
This too, was proving to be difficult watching for too long, until Eulalia was left curled up on the ground, in a fetal position, by now she was saying "please, help me, somebody, please come and help me. God, I know I was stupid travelling alone but please help me.”
Suddenly, she was dragged up into a kneeling position. “what on earth is that wood for? Oh, fuck, oh no , no NO! You canNOT crucify me! NO! I am a princess, I am NOT a slave! How DARE you do this, I SWEAR that you will all die horribly for what you’re doing today…..NO!!! I WILL NOT carry it, who the fuck do you think I am, AARGH!!” More weals appeared, and Eulalia’s arms were forced up and back and she staggered to her feet, bowed down under an unseen burden.
She lurched forward across the glade. “Oh,God, no, look at that post, this is where they’re going to do it….this is where I’m going to die, oh please, I’m only twenty, I don’t want to die, I want to marry Shevak. Oh Shevak, Shevak! Why don’t you come?”
Shevak stood and sobbed, weeping openly.
Eulalia straightened, relieved of her invisible burden. “Nails! Oh God, please, no, not nails, I thought they’d tie me, Oh HOW can this be happening?”
Suddenly, she twisted, went over backwards, laying, with arms outstretched, her arms about six inches above the ground. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, no NO AARGGH! NO!! STOP!!!” She writhed, arching violently. A large wound appeared in her left wrist, blood sprayed across the glade. Some splattered across Shevak’s arm. He cried out as he felt it burning him, like acid. He took his water bottle and rinsed it off, leaving bright scars. He did not know it then, but he would carry those scars to his grave.
Eulalia, meanwhile, was screaming incoherently as a similar wound appeared in her right wrist.
For a few moments she lay there, gasping and sobbing, gazing without belief at the wounds in her wrists.
Then the truly impossible began to happen in front of Roxie, Shevak, and Paul’s horrified eyes. Her arms were lifted, her legs working as she was dragged backwards. For a moment she sat, whimpering, her bleeding arms outstretched, propped against the post that no human eye could see, and then the air in the glade was rent by her screams as she rose into the air. She jerked as the patibulum dropped into place, then hung, howling, in space.
Paul’s pencil was now stationary. Eulalia had ceased to say anything coherent. Her screams rose, once more, to a crescendo as her knees were bent, and great ugly wounds appeared in her feet.
The strangest crucifixion that any of them had ever witnessed was completed. Eulalia hung, nude, suspended above the floor of the glade on her cruel but invisible cross.
Clearly, Tara’s tormentors hadn’t finished with her, though. Eulalia’s legs were once more forced apart, her breasts moving, her cunt opened as she was fingered by an invisible hand. She spat, viciously, but her bloodstained spittle ran slowly down an invisible tormentor, and soon further angry weals were appearing across her body; by this time Eulalia was covered in blood.
As he watched, Shevak noticed another strange thing. In all this time the sun had not moved. He saw a flight of birds stationary in the sky. A squirrel sat, motionless, on a branch. He’d been sure, at one point, that people on the road would hear Eulalia’s screams, and come running. Now he realised that the four of them existed, somehow, outside of the normal rules of time and space. There was no question but that he was in the presence of sorcery beyond his comprehension.
For some time Eulalia hung there unmolested, but in obvious agony. On several occasions she attempted to push herself up, partly to relieve the pain in her wrists, partly to take a deep breath. At first, this had been accompanied by heart-rending screams, but the last few times it had been more like groaning. When she started calling ‘water!’ it was hard to resist going to her aid, but they knew they mustn’t.
Then Eulalia stared at a point just in front of her. She uttered something that Shevak and Roxie didn’t catch, but Paul’s pencil moved once more.
Suddenly, Shevak jumped, as the squirrel dropped an acorn on him. The birds were singing again, and Eulalia was sitting, cross-legged but naked, on the grass. She was unscarred, and Shevak thought she looked lovely. He felt his penis stiffen once again.
She stood, unconcerned by her nudity. “Oh, stop gawping, Shevak, you’ve seen a nude woman before, haven’t you?”
But Roxie was looking at Tara. “Look at her face!” she said. The agony had left Tara’s face, replaced by a look of quiet peace.
“Yes, now we’ve done that, she is at peace. Let us be thankful for that. When you next meet her, in the afterworld, she will remember nothing of what happened. Her memories are now my memories, but while I can bitterly remember the pain of her crucifixion, I shall need Paul’s help with the details.
“Well, we’re all still here, so thank you for doing as I said.” Eulalia looked serious. “I do realise that must have been….difficult. I’m sorry.”
Eulalia went over to Paul. “Oh, you’re gawping, too! Perhaps, come to think of it, you haven’t had Shevak’s experience.” She raised Paul’s hand to her breast, and he skilfully caressed it. His fingers gently stirred her nipple into arousal. Once again, that word came into Shevak’s mind. She leaned forward, and nibbled Paul’s ear. “Oooh, you do know a thing or two about women,” she whispered. “Come to my room, later, darling, and we can discuss your experience, and maybe add to it. I find I have an…appetite after the past few minutes.”
Paul looked delighted. But then, once again, she became matter of fact. “So, what have you written?”
She scanned through all the ‘Oh no’s’ and the ‘Aarghs’, and the repeated calls for water. But when she came to the last two words, she froze:
“DARK PRINCESS”
I'll probably have another chapter of TLC up when you awaken....hopefully!
I so can't wait! Even though Barbaria taking control hasn't worked out for me to often but I think Princess Blaire is on the right side this time!
and for this very important point.
