The Warlord's Concubine (9 page)

The moment was interrupted, however, by the sound of great horns
and clamouring feet. There was commotion going on in the courtyard
outside, but the horns and the sound of marching feet were definitely
from the city proper below.

Svella stood up, “The Seer,” she said, eyes wide, her
voice full of awe and reverence. She’d gleaned little of the
mystical Seer so far, not that the guards didn’t want to talk
about her, they did! But they held her in almost as much reverence as
the God-King himself, and when in a group were always afraid to speak
of her at any length for fear of embarrassment.

Moving to the tent flap she pulled it open, shameless about her
near nudity. Mirella had not been confined to the tent for some time,
or at least, she didn’t suppose so. Though she had contented
herself with her Master’s will, coming at his whim or staying
otherwise. When everything she could want was provided to her where
she was, she had little reason to wander off.

She didn’t bother fretting about her outfit—or lack of
one—and simply rose. He had enjoyed her brazenness, but she had
no real understanding if this woman would. She knew it was important
and dared not to disappoint, so her back straightened and she
mustered all the courage she could as she slipped past the tent’s
entrance, standing outside in the glaring natural light. Her body was
on display with her large, pregnant breasts spilling forth from the
two strips of fabric that hid little more than her nipples, the dark
areolas visible.

No other concubine but her or the guards could have wandered off
like that, but the two went to the walls of the palace courtyard and
climbed the stairs. The few men who were still there moved away,
giving them a wide berth. Though both were obviously pregnant with
the God-King’s children, and they could not have supplanted
that seed, there was still a tremendous taboo on being anywhere near
his chosen women.

Leaning upon the intricately carved walls, Svella looked out over
the city below. The winding roadway that curled up the hillside
through the buildings towards the palace was designed for defence. It
meant a party such as the grand procession approaching the cities
gates would take almost an hour to reach them.

“There she is,” uttered Svella with awe in her voice,
eyes wide with shimmering marvel.

She didn’t feel the same awe, though she wondered if she
should. The mother of a god... She wondered at that frequently over
the course of the week, but still her mind hadn’t wrapped
around it. The man—the god—she knew had no need for such
things. She still had issues coming to terms with it, and as her
stomach pressed against the cold stone she was transported, just for
a moment, back to the garden.

She shivered as she looked towards Svella’s gaze, trying to
capture that same look of respect on her face.

“How should I address her? What is she like?” Mirella
murmured, moving instinctively closer to the other woman.

Svella could not tear her gaze away from the procession below. For
the Ka’reem it was one of majesty and pomp, which as a people
they were not fond of.

Large banners flew in the air, streaming in the winds from the
north. It was hard to see them clearly from there, but Svella handed
her an eye piece looted from the palace. “You do not address
her,” she stated in a subdued voice. “The Seer is no
longer a woman... she is beyond us now,” she explained.

Peering through the monocular she saw the guards, they were women,
like the concubines. But they wore heavy armour, long cloaks of
shimmering black flowed behind them, and the full face masks and
helmets made them look like hideous, beaked monsters. She saw nothing
of the seer however, for she must have rode in the palanquin at the
heart of the procession, shielded from sight by silks.

Not a woman? The intrigue was getting to her as she stared over
the procession, feeling suddenly so naked and vulnerable. It wasn’t
a feeling she enjoyed outside of the bedroom—or the garden, or
the throne room—and she looked back to Svella, “What do
they think of us?”

With a shrug of her shoulders Svella leaned on the parapet
further. “It has been many generations since we have had a seer
whom could pass on her foresight to the people. I have been in her
presence, have performed ritual. But never has she spoken of or to
me, if that is what you mean.” She looked directly at Mirella,
“Many women would kill you if they knew you were about to see
her. Even in defiance of the God-King,” she paid the deferment,
“to keep our secrets safe.”

“Oh.” Well that was reassuring. She handed back the
looking glass and her skin prickled with nervousness. “We
should await them?” she asked, more than said. She was usually
so calm and in control, but in this, she was looking to her lone
ally.

Placing a hand reassuringly upon her shoulder, Svella gave her a
reassuring smile, “Do not fret. If the God-King wishes it, it
is for the best.” She could not doubt the large woman’s
faith in her lord.

She smiled up at that woman so warmly, and felt real affection for
her then. It was a beautiful moment, at least for her, and she kept
close to her side. “The other girls don’t realize how
lucky they are. I wish we could show them.”

Svella turned her gaze and quickly downcast her eyes. “If
only we could,” she said, and then nudged the other woman to
look around. “Though some are more fortunate than others,”
she stated as she showed Mirella sight of the God-King himself,
arrayed in his usual attire, with gloves and raven-helm on, which
made him look more terrifying. “He wishes you to go to him.”

She swallowed and squeezed the woman’s hand before her bare
feet guided her to him so readily. Despite it all, she had faith in
his judgement. If the woman found her to be unworthy... she pushed
the thought from her mind. She’d deal with that when the time
came, and drew her shoulders back confidently.

Accepting her by his side, he waited stoically. It was a strange
moment, to see the mighty man so quieted around her, but then she’d
gotten use to her private moments with him, where he was more and
more unleashed with her. His passions having become inflamed for the
woman to remarkable heights.

Waiting for the procession to arrive, the horns grew louder, and
when finally the guards came through the palace gates she saw their
glittering black cloaks were made of raven’s feathers. The
banners fluttered above with a base of black, showing a depiction of
a weeping bloodshot eye at its center.

Everyone was quiet but for the approaching group, and around her
all the northern Ka’reem had their fists to their chests in
salute, with their heads bowed quietly. The God-King’s only
response, however, was to turn and head into the palace itself,
leaving her no choice but to follow.

Inside she saw the windows were shuttered, their stained glass
blocked out and all the fires and people emptied, leaving only small
candle flames to light the way. The guards continued their march
until they had carried the palanquin inside, resting the ornate,
shamanistic looking mobile-hut into the center of the chamber.

Then, with a clap of metal garbed fists to chain mail vests—a
thunderous noise that reverberated through the halls and left the
chamber quaking—the guards turned and exited, leaving only the
two. And the quiet Seer’s cloth and hide residence.

Mirella barely breathed, stood so near to him and in such a
strangely unsexual manner, despite the fact that she wore bare strips
of fabric that clung to her pregnant form. She was half a pace behind
him and to his side, deferential to him as her green eyes remained on
the tent.

Seemingly tired of waiting, he pulled back his helm and stepped
forward, “Mother,” he called forth, and the tent seemed
to stir at last.

From out of the tent-like structure Mirella heard the first sounds
of life. It was like a giggle taken by madness, drifting from out of
some crack in the void. It made her skin crawl and she wanted to
cower like all those women that fled in terror from the God-King.

Pulling open the front of the tent she saw her at last. It was not
what she expected.

The woman inside, dressed in crimson robes that looked dyed in
blood sat in a heap. She looked... off, that was all she could say.

Unlike her son, she shared the pale skin of the Ka’reem.
Paler still than most of them. Her long hair was white and draped
about her shoulders. In fact all colour seemed seeped from her
entirely, and she looked limp, almost lifeless, swaying slightly as
she sat. Though she was alive. And more than that, even in her
condition, so obviously ill, or semi-conscious at best, she had a
certain beauty about her. She might have been twice Mirella’s
age, and her features looked delicate in spite of her height. Even
then, with her hair white, her skin so pale, and age having taken its
toll, she was beautiful.

“Mother,” he called to her again, pulling back the
thick flap further as he sounded more impatient. “It’s
me,” he said, those last two words sounding so kind and
familiar, in a way she rarely heard him speak.

It made the old woman stir abruptly, her eyes opening and shown to
be milky white all the way through. The seer was indeed blind.
“Kulav?” she called weakly in the air, the voice so
normal, so motherly, not at all like the mad laughter she heard
before.

“Yes mother,” he responded calmly. “You are here
with me now.”

Kulav. Mirella smiled a bit, as if she’d just received some
wonderful gift, and yet here she stood at the brink of... what?
Insanity? Madness? To see him with this aged woman, he felt so
strangely mortal to her, and she wasn’t entirely sure what to
make of the sensation. Instead, she remained a pace behind her god,
and plastered on a smile for the old, sightless woman.

The seemingly mad woman drifted off again, it was hard to tell
what she knew of what was going on or not, as she seemed to sway out
of awareness yet again.

“Mother, you came with important tidings,” the
God-King Kulav stated.

“No,” she responded, “no tidings.”

“Then why di—”

“Because you have need of me,” she responded before he
could finish.

With the raven mask pulled off his face, Mirella could see the
mild frustration on his handsome, dark features. “Of course,
mother. You’ve come to warn me of the Empire?”

The woman swayed to the side, seeming to fall over, but she held
herself but a hairs breadth from the cushions of her seat. She
laughed maniacally, that chill sound seeming to make all the candles
about Mirella flicker and dim until the old woman was done. “Why
would I come to warn you of that which you already know?” The
words sounded mocking, but then she softened, and sat up again, a
motherly tone to her voice, “My sweet Kulav.”

For his part, the dark lord seemed to take this in stride, perhaps
used to her ravings and lunacy, undaunted by the sense of foreboding
that afflicted Mirella. “So the Empire is—”

“Don’t play at being dumb, my sweet,” she cut in
again, “it doesn’t fit you. You are far too clever for
that.” The mighty God-King managed to look mildly irritated by
the words from the old woman. “Of course they come. You knew
they would. You have long planned for an early arrival of their
forces.” She sang her next words in some bizarre, otherworldly
tone, “It was always in the stars.”

Mirella tried to edge out her own frustration. This was worse than
speaking with that delivery boy that couldn’t say a single word
without stuttering. She wondered at how this god before her ever
managed to make any sense of it, though she was quickly becoming more
casual in her stance. The fear at meeting the woman was dripping away
the longer she had gone unnoticed, and instead she simply, silently,
urged her on. For his sake. And her own, of course.

“Then I have the matter in hand?” the dark man asked,
anxious for his answers, even if he hid it well; though not well
enough to keep it from either of the other women.

The old Seer’s head lolled about on its seemingly weak neck,
that curtain of white hair flowing around her as she teetered from
side to side. When he got no answer Kulav said, “That’s
not how things work,” as if repeating her own words, though
she’d said nothing, “of course.”

With a sigh he looked about to speak again, but instead the old
woman cut in, “I came for your pet,” she stated, and
Kulav looked to Mirella with only a brief delay. “Yes her,”
she responded, though her milky white eyes never moved, and she never
lost her erratic, random swaying that at all times looked like she
was about to pass out and die.

She let loose a piercing wail of mourning, “Though it means
I can expect to see less of you still, my sweet, sweet boy. My lovely
little child, my—” her long litany of cooing, doting
terms went on but Kulav gestured for Mirella to approach.

Well that was unnerving. She moved forward with little delay, her
hands behind her back as she approached, leaving her pregnant stomach
and swollen breasts thrust forward. “I’m here,” she
said with a soft, beguiling smile, her tone so rich and calm, despite
the anxiety she felt within. She was an expert at hiding her emotions
when she cared enough to, and she definitely cared enough to now.

Her words, however, never interrupted the woman's long incantation
of mewling fondness for her son. It was only when he spoke up again
that she ceased, “I do not have that kind of need of you any
longer, mother,” he stated firmly. “Now my needs are
grander.”

The old woman clucked her tongue and flailed violently for a
moment. “Nothing is grander than you, my son!” she said,
her arms for the first time moving, hands raising. “You have no
idea what I must do for you!” She wailed in agony once more,
her slender fingers and long nailed digging into the side of her head
as she seemed to be in mortal agony.