Rise of the Orc Queen Read online

  Beyond the Borderlands

  Rise of the Orc Queen

  Jay Aury

  [email protected]

  This book and its contents are copyright 2018 by Jay Aury. All rights are reserved and no portion may be reproduced aside from brief quotations for review purposes. Photo credit to Forewer.

  All characters appearing in this story are over the age of 18. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or situations is coincidental.

  The Night

  Bonfires blazed in the dark valley. Their flames cast dancing shadows against crude hide tents and towering totems of savage faiths. Low drums beat through the darkness, thudding like some dark heartbeat. Princess Desira Locks looked down on the valley from atop her horse, her expression unreadable. Before the flames she saw the heavy, brutal forms of the orcs gathered around the campfires. But that wasn’t all she saw. Twisting and dancing in the red light, their shadows cast in long stretches, were the gentler shape of women. Desira could only catch their outlines, but she saw enough. Their heavy breasts and the hint of stomachs swollen in pregnancy. When crafting the orcs for the Wizard Wars, their masters had feared their creations, and so ensured that only through their arts could more of their brutish soldiers be born. But they did their work too well. Though orcs would only have males in their species, the females of others could bear their seed well enough.

  “It’s not wise to be so near,” Cera said. The ranger stood nearby, fingering her long kris warily. Leathers bound her modest breasts and trim, athletic figure. A cloak whose colours seemed to shift and meld against the darkness around them hugged her, the ranger’s bow slung over her shoulder. Her short cropped hair brushed her cheek under her hood.

  “I know,” Desira said softly. “But I had to see them, Cera. I had to know what we face.”

  The ranger nodded softly, glancing surreptitiously at the young princess. Desira wore a riding skirt, split down the legs. The moonlight seemed only to enhance her pale beauty, her long dark hair dipping past her shoulders, her hood thrown back to give her an unobstructed view of the camp below. Her breasts strained her modest shirt, but her eyes were sharp, clever, the eyes of a girl who knew how to weight the ever shifting politics of Borderland alliances.

  Desira felt a flush crawl up her neck, her body feeling the pulsing thump of the distant drums. She turned away sharply, her horse snorting. “Let’s go.”

  Cera sighed in relief as she mounted her own steed. Together, princess and ranger rode away from the dark valley and once more into the woods. The Borderlands were a wild range of landscape, twisting and crawling through mountains and hills and rivers. Wild forests were the norm even before the Wizard Wars, when humanity was pushed to the brink before the Inner Kingdoms came to the aid of their brethren. Yet even then, when the wizards were bested and their armies broken, the Borderlands had become wilder. More scattered in its kingdoms and realms. Beasts bred for the wars of their sorcerous masters now prowled the dark reaches of the lands, adding to the creatures who’d already inhabited the ranges. In the Borderlands, humanity’s holds were islands in a sea of savagery and darkness.

  Desira was thinking on this as they slowly rode, her brow furrowed with thought. She was no warrior queen. But queen she would soon be. Her father was dead in a hunting accident a summer ago, her mother lost long before. This left her next to the throne of Loch Lamor, a narrow kingdom but a kingdom all the same. Her kingdom.

  She hoped.

  They reached the city. Tall walls surrounded Loch Lamor, its sprawl descending down to the inlet that gave the capital its name. Ships prowled the docks even so late in the day, their masts raised as they scuttled across the waterways. Desira watched them, silent, thoughtful as they neared the gates. The guards on the walls swung open the gates, watching the night as the pair rode through.

  They rode to the castle, and there Desira dismounted, walking across the courtyard and towards the shadowed keep. She’d barely gone a dozen steps when the main doors swung open and her uncle strode down.

  Gavor Locks was a thin, reedy man with hard, piggish eyes. He wore a long cape as if to disguise the fact that he had about as much muscle as a starved dog. Desira wondered how he didn’t rattle in the armour he wore as he crossed the courtyard, flanked by two of his personal guard bearing fluttering torches.

  “Princess! There you are. When the guards told me you took a horse out of the castle, I was so worried! What were you thinking?”

  Desira stopped and gave her uncle a guarded look. “I thought it wise to see the monsters who menace our city, uncle.”

  Gavor’s lips twitched. “You rode out to see the orcs? Princess! That’s… unwise! What if something had happened to you?”

  Then you would be the king, was her thought. And his too judging by the flicker in his eyes. “Nothing happened,” Desira said simply. “I looked from a distance. Simple. They didn’t seem to me, uncle, to be too large a force for the army to handle.”

  Her uncle tried to smile, the expression having more to do with a grimace than anything. “That may be, sweet niece. But with your… meager understanding of military matters, I fear you cannot properly appreciate the risk they pose. It’s why we must keep the army close to the city, in case the brutes see fit to attack us.”

  Desira glared at him. “No doubt,” she said sharply and shoved past him, walking up the steps. Cera slipped up behind her, glaring in turn at Gavor.

  Once she was past him and again in the grim confines of the castle, Desira exhaled and let her shoulders slump. She pushed at the boundaries her uncle put in place, but she could feel Gavor slowly drawing the noose tighter around her neck. She knew too well he wanted the crown, and only the risk of a full revolt held him from seizing it from her brow. But that would only hold him for so long. She knew he was moving pieces, consolidating loyalties among the city’s councillors. He would act inevitably, and she hadn’t the strength to resist him.

  “He should not speak to you so, your majesty,” Cera said firmly.

  Desira waved the comment off. “I know. I know. But he’s not such a fool. He has the army in his pockets still, and the people look to him with fear at the menace of the orcs. If I try and pull the army for an attack on the brutes, he’ll declare me unfit to rule and seize the throne himself.”

  “He’s a coward, my lady.”

  Desira smiled at the ranger. “Thank you, Cera.” Her expression faded and she sighed as she opened the door to her personal chamber. “I only wish more saw it.”

  Stepping into her room Desira let her cloak fall away, leaving her in only her field dress. Cera quickly scooped up her cloak, pausing as the princess let the rest of her clothing slide away, revealing her pale frame. The ranger blushed delicately as Desira’s soft breasts and ass came into view, her underwear soon cast aside, leaving her utterly naked, the candlelight casting her skin like the bronze of a goddess of the savage isles to the east. Throwing open her closet, Desira reached inside and pulled out a filmy nightgown, throwing it over herself. The fabric settled soft as a breath, hugging her curves in its filmy expanse.

  The young princess went to the window, leaning on the rim as she considered the city below, her expression careful and thoughtful. Her eyes, inevitably, wandered to the docks, where the skeletal masts of ships rose out of the tangled wharves, the glow of taverns that never truly closed like yellow eyes in the night.

  “They will see your uncle for what he is, my lady,” Cera said.

  The princess sighed. “Perhaps,” she murmured, looking out at the moon floating high in the dark canvas of the sky. “But so long as those orcs remain, they won’t dare be rid of him…”

  Desira drummed her fingers on the stone edge, her expression growing thoughtf
ul. “Cera?” she said. “Do you think we might sneak away again tomorrow?”

  Cera scoffed. “Please. The city guards couldn’t spot me if I painted myself red and ran naked through the streets.”

  Desira giggled at the image and nodded. “Then, tomorrow, I think we should head to the docks. I have an idea…”

  The Docks

  Daylight burned overhead as Desira walked through the dockyards. She rarely wandered the wharves, the expansive trading area the source of much of Lamor’s wealth and prestige. Few cities in the Borderlands sported access to the sea and its traders, and though its lands were filled with sprites and fey and beast, the Borderlands was rich as well in goods found nowhere else in all the known world. To Lamor, then, sailed ships from as far as the caliphates of Sazar and the Elven Isles. Through its gates passed traders and merchants, though these in diminished numbers since the orcs began their forays against the kingdom. And for every coin that passed between hands, Lamor took its tithe.

  Desira walked, shrouded in a white cloak in the style of the brides of Avora, her face shadowed by a hood and a filmy veil. Cera walked beside her, a hand on her sword, her chin raised in haughty pride to any who looked her lady twice. Desira kept near her guardian as they strolled, avoiding the traders and the roaring fishmongers, their route unerringly travelling towards a stretch of gaily coloured tents canvassing a long part of the docks.

  The smell reached them from a distance, Desira’s nose wrinkling in distaste. The cacophony grew louder. Robed men cried out through the hot air, gesticulating towards auction blocks where slaves stood, heads bowed. Desira grimaced. She didn’t care much for slavery, but the slavers of Azaar brought much wealth to the city. And, for today, she had business among them.

  She made her way to a dark corner of the auction square where a massive tent had been erected. A fat man in billowy robes stood before it, his face beaming, a handlebar mustache greased to form a rigid W shape on his upper lip.

  “My ladies! Welcome. I am Abivar! A most humble trader. Shall I entertain you with sights of my wares?”

  Cera cleared her throat. “My lady is seeking a particular creature. She is travelling to the distant arena in Cardiar, and seeks a creature who will earn her family fortune and glory.”

  “Then she has chosen a most excellent place to seek it,” the slaver beamed. “For none have better stock than Abivar! Come. Come! Let me show you my beasts.”

  He opened the flap of the tent and Cera pushed ahead, Desira following. The darkness within the broad tent was broken only by the low flames of a number of torches arranged along a long path. Dark cages crowded the rest of the space, the things within rattling at shackles and stirring against their prisons. Desira tried not to look too closely at the creatures in their cells. Monstrous beasts taken in the Borderlands and beyond. Harpies that shrieked and chimeras howled with lion’s throats. Her eyes flicked about the more bestial creatures until, at last, they found what she sought.

  In the far cells, fettered with chains, an orc stood. Desira paused before the brute, looking at him. The orc returned her gaze with bald interest, holding her attention. He was a powerful specimen, his arms thickly manacled, his green hide dense and heavy with muscle. Thick ropes of black hair dangling around his head, his eyes dark with a raw, feral potency. He lifted a lip, his tusk gleaming in the dark.

  “Ah, a particular for the brute,” the merchant chuckled eagerly, rubbing his bejeweled hands. “Indeed, that specimen was captured not too long past. That business with the orcish horde marching through the north until that lady knight slew their master? This was one of those taken during the battles when the horde fractured. A powerful one you’ll notice.”

  Desira nodded slowly. Cera glanced at the princess, her expression radiating disproval. But the ranger hid it as Desira gave a short, curt nod, her hood rustling.

  “The… the lady shall take it,” Cera said roughly.

  The merchant grinned, his mustache lifting even more as Cera poured gold into his greedy hands. The orc rose as a pair of bulky ogres opened his cell, the massive brutes dwarfing even the powerful orc as they drew him out, passing the lead of a chained leash to Desira. She took it gently and gave it a soft tug, compelling the orc towards her.

  “Shall your men be along?” the merchant said eagerly.

  “No,” Desira said, her voice soft. She glanced at the orc, catching his dark eyes. “I do not think he will run.”

  Desira turned her back on the brutish monster as she led him out of the heavy tent of the slaver’s trading post. The orc followed compliantly enough, but Desira had little doubt in a moment he could tear the lead from her grasp. Cera stayed near the princess, hand on her blade, watching the orc with frank suspicion, despite his compliance. Some among the merchants and people thronging the wharf eyed them with surprise, but her obscuring robe gave her the look of an enchantress, and all rapidly found something else to interest them.

  Desira ignored them, looking for a likely spot they could stop. She turned down a narrow alley, Cera keeping watch at the mouth of the narrow street as Desira turned about, facing the orc.

  Gently, Desira lifted the hood and veil from her face, letting them fall aside. The orc snorted when he saw her. “Not bad,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming with a different light.

  Desira took a slow breath, trying to calm her heart. “Orc. I have a proposal.”

  The orc grunted. “What does woman want?”

  “I offer you freedom. In exchange for… a favor.”

  “Oh?”

  He moved, faster than she believe possible with those chains. Desira gasped as he slammed her against the nearest building, his hands on her wrists, trapping them against the wall. The orc loomed over her, his grin feral, hungry. She shivered, scenting the monster’s heavy musk.

  “My lady!” Cera cried from the entrance of the alley.

  “And what stop me from killing you and leaving?” the orc growled, an inch from her face.

  Desira swallowed her fear, her heart thudding as the heavy, wet scent of the orc’s musk surrounded her, making her head pound. She raised her hand as best she could, forestalling Cera’s approach. She looked into the orc’s eyes, staring him down. “I am the princess of Lamor. And I have a task for you. Assist me, and not only will I free you, I will give you treasure and steel. As well as amnesty to the borders of the realm. Kill me, and you will be hunted down and slain.”

  The orc stared down at her, the brutal, cruel intelligence she saw turning over her proposal. Cera stood a few yards away, her Kris half-drawn, her body tense with the urgency to act, only held back by Desira’s open palm.

  The orc chuckled. “You brave, woman. Or stupid. What task you have for Argin?”

  Desira let out a slow breath. “There is a clan, Argin. A group of orcs near the city. They have been raiding the lands around us for a while, but my uncle will not lead the troops to dislodge them, afraid to leave the city unguarded.”

  The orc scoffed. “Uncle is coward.”

  “I know,” Desira said bitterly. “But the commanders of the guard are in his pocket, and won’t move without his leave. I wish to parlay with the orcs. Pay them to depart our lands. They cannot hope to take the walls with their numbers, but I am willing to spare some of the riches of Lamor if they will go.”

  The orc considered that. “Might work,” he conceded.

  “Then you’ll help me?”

  Argin looked back down at her. His grin returned. “I maybe help. But riches not good enough. At first.” His hand left her arm, trailing down her robe, tracing the delicate curve of one of her heavy breasts. Desira gasped as his finger found the shape of a stiffening nipple, his grin growing broader. She choked back a moan as he grasped her breast, massaging it through the fabric.

  “Hrrrr,” the orc growled, low and heavy. “I help princess for reward. But want more.”

  “Brute!” Cera gasped, her face hot with indignity.

  “Stay, Cera,” Desira said firmly. “I
f it is to save my city…”

  The orc laughed. “Not sure if save city. Tribe must take deal. But… I deliver message. If show skill with mouth.”

  He released her other arm and groped the heavy bulge of his groin. Desira felt warmth flame through her face as she realised what he asked. She swallowed thickly, again glanced up, meeting his eyes.

  “Very well.”

  Slowly, the princess knelt in the darkness of the alley. Cera watched, anguished. “My lady…”

  “Keep an eye out, Cera. I… won’t be long…”

  The ranger hesitated. She gave the orc a last, angry look and spun, marching to the end of the alley to stand guard, gripping the hilt of her sword so hard she shook.

  Desira’s heart went out to the loyal ranger, but then she returned her attention to the overpowering orc. Even fettered in chains she could feel the raw power radiating from him, his eyes dark and hungry with lust for the body the soft fabric of her gown hid. She swallowed her pride and her disgust and moved aside his loincloth.

  She gasped as his cock sprang into the air. Thick did not do it justice. It was easily larger than any she had seen, admittedly a small pool of comparison. There was a faintly corkscrew shape to it that sent her heart fluttering, imagining what such a cock might feel like, and dangling beneath it were the heavy orbs of his balls.

  “Any time, princess,” the orc grunted.

  Desira gave him a sharp look and reached out. The heat of his shaft radiated from him, her fingers touching the thick slab of his manhood. The feel of it slowly enthralled her. Her fingers ran up and down his thick, heavy shaft, admiring the heft, feeling the veiny contours of the strange spiral shape of his bulge. Her heart beat faster. His musk thickened the air, making her head throb anew. She stroked him, spreading the pre and wetting his cock until it gleamed.

  “Good,” the orc groaned. “You good with hands. Make good bitch.”