Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 07
“This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful ’60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to the present.
Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended.”
*The Adventures Of Batgirl
Batgirl: Sex Bomb
Chapter 7: Out Of the Frying Pan & Into The Fire!*
Friday, 11:32 pm
The two girls made their way down the rickety fire escape, as quietly as possible. One of several setbacks to wearing stiletto heels was the noise they made on metal surfaces, so both heroines had removed their sexy footwear before commencing their hurried descent.
Across the yard from the bottom of the fire escape, was another tall derelict warehouse but, in contrast, this one appeared to be in total darkness. They pulled on their boots and ran over to the large double doors which allowed access from the yard, but found that they were securely padlocked shut.
“Damn!” Batgirl swore, slamming a fist against the wooden door in ill repressed fury. “There’s GOTTA be another way in here. Indicating the direction with a wave of her arm, she hissed, “You go that way, Sparrow, I’ll go this.” She ran along the right-hand side of the building, while her curvaceous costumed companion took the left.
Moments later, the Dark Angel came across a side entrance and skidded to a halt. “Over here, Sparrow!” she called, softly. Grasping the handle, she turned it and shoved her shoulder up against the wooden door, but it refused to budge. The side entrance appeared to be locked, but a split second later, she spotted the key, still in the lock, and heaved a sigh of relief.
Batgirl slowly turned the key and cautiously eased open the sturdy wooden door. It was almost pitch black inside the warehouse. The darkness was just barely relieved by the faintest hint of moonlight filtering through grimy, overhead skylights. She took a timid step inside, her hand groping for a light switch on the wall, to the right of the open doorway, while still trying to accustom her eyesight to the damp smelling, gloomy interior.
CRASH!
The wooden chair splintered and shattered, as it struck her on the back and shoulders, forcing the pent up breath from her lungs. “Ooooff!”
“Unnggh!”
The Dark Angel gave a loud gasp of pain, as she was knocked, sprawling to the ground, her prominent breasts striking the crumbling concrete floor heavily, producing another painful grunt from the costumed heroine. “Ughhh!
She twisted over onto her back reflexively, as a shadowy figure leapt on top of her, from out of the gloom. Her heavier assailant grabbed both of her flailing wrists, as she tried to heave him off her, pinning them hard against the concrete floor above her head.
The powerful assailant straddled her hips as she squirmed and strained, trying to break free of his vise-like grip. A prominent pale pink nipple peeked out from a fresh tear in her tightly stretched costume, as the panting heroine arched her back up from the floor, trying to shrug him off to one side.
The man astride her blinked in the gloom as he finally took in the shapely costumed form writhing and grunting beneath him. “Batgirl?” he queried, in an astonished tone.
Batgirl stopped struggling. “Officer Thackeray, is that you?” she asked, her big green eyes opening wide, in a mixture of surprise and relief. “Thank goodness you’re all right!”
“Yeah,” he acknowledged, starting to scramble off her, with an embarrassed grin on his handsome face. “How the hell did you manage to find me, Batgirl? Oh, are you all right, by the way? Sorry about hitting you over the head with that chair. I thought you were one of those two slimy thugs who imprisoned me in here.”
Batgirl got to her high-heeled feet, gingerly kneading the back of her neck with her left hand. “I’m okay, but I’ll probably end up a splitting headache in the morning,” she answered, ruefully. “Thank goodness that chair was probably riddled with dry rot, otherwise I could be suffering from a severe concussion! As for your question, Sparrow and I trailed the two suspects, Shorty and Bull, back here, hoping they would lead us to you. Thankfully, they did just that.”
As Batgirl’s eyes grew accustomed to the gloom she realized that Phil was naked, apart from a pair of snug fitting, polka dot boxer shorts. She couldn’t help but note the considerable bulge in the front of his underwear and smothered a girlish giggle with the back of her hand.
“You don’t appear to be wearing a great deal, Officer Thackeray,” she commented, with a saucy grin and a gleam in her eye.
“I could say much the same about you,” he replied, returning her grin. The Dynamic Daredoll was obviously naked beneath the tight-fitting purple body stocking, apart from an abbreviated black thong clinging to her hips. With his eyesight accustomed to the dim light, he could easily make out her large, dark areolas and the outline of her prominent nipples. Indeed, one of her pink nipples was peeking out of a small tear in her Bat-costume. “Very sexy!” he observed, his grin widening.
His expression suddenly became serious. “Anyway, we’d better get the hell out of here, before my captors decide to pay me another visit.”
Batgirl nodded her agreement, but as they turned toward the partially open doorway, it was kicked in, with a loud reverberating bang, and the overhead strip lights were switched on.
Shorty walked in, waving an automatic pistol in their direction.
“Back up, suckers,” he snarled, walking toward them with a confident swagger in his step, “and put your hands in the air!”
Bull appeared behind him, holding a struggling, squirming Sparrow up against his chest, one arm wrapped about her slim waist, the other hand holding his gun, with the end of the barrel pressed hard up against the side of her cowled head.
“DO IT, or the blonde bitch gets her brains blown out!” he barked, his finger visibly tightening on the trigger.
They hastily complied and Bull shoved Sparrow over to join them.
“Sorry, Batgirl, he caught me by surprise,” the blonde explained, as she joined them, with both her arms raised above her head.
“What’s going on in here?” exclaimed the ghastly white, smiling face of the Joker, as the green-haired psychopath stepped into the warehouse, a few moments later.
His eyes lit up at the sight that greeted them. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my old nemesis, Batgirl, together with that other costumed lesbian, Sparrow! This MUST be my lucky day. Mmmwwwwaaahhh!”
As the ghastly peel of laughter rang out, there was a slight noise from behind him and the slim, black and white clad figure of Harley Quinn slipped into the room.
“Is everything okay, Puddin’?” she enquired, then gave a gasp and clutched at her throat, as she recognized the sexy costumed and cowled figure of the Dark Angel.
“Batgirl!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and concern.
“Do ya want us to eliminate these two, as well as the cop, boss?” enquired Shorty, inclining his head toward the two curvaceous costumed heroines.
“No, no, not just yet,” the ghoulish clown replied, with another ghastly chuckle. “Not until we’ve had a little fun with them, first. Harley, remove their utility belts and then strip the bitches, but leave their masks and cowls in place! We’ll leave that particular unveiling ceremony for a little later.” He raised a hand in the air and theatrically rotated it in a circle, about the wrist. “It gives them an added air of mystery. Bull, I think our policeman friend looks a little overdressed too, don’t you think?”
Bull grinned and eagerly nodded his agreement.
Friday, 11:55 pm
The three prisoners had been duly stripped and now hung by their bound wrists from ropes attached to a cast iron cross-beam high above the boudoir area. All three were positioned facing the bed, their bound feet barely touching the floor. While the blond-haired police officer was now totally naked, the two females had, so far, been spared the indignity of having their thong panties, high-heeled ankle boots, masks and cowls removed.
The Joker chuckled and nodded his satisfaction at the rope work. “Well done Bull! You and Shorty may go now, but do NOT leave the warehouse, just in case any further uninvited visitors decide to drop by.”
Both hoodlums nodded their understanding and headed for the clown’s head doorway.
As soon as the two thugs had departed the boudoir, the ghastly green-haired ghoul picked up a large pair of tailor’s shears from off the top of the chest of drawers and approached the Dark Damsel, who squirmed, helplessly, in her bondage.
He cackled with glee, at the look of consternation on her lovely face. “Have no fear my little Bat-slut, I am merely going to complete your disrobing,” he hissed, through blood-red lips. His clawed fingers gripped the front of her black thong just above her sex, while he slipped the one blade of the shears under the half-inch strip of tightly stretched material clinging high on her left hip.
Snick!
Batgirl’s bosom heaved, as she involuntarily sucked in her breath, and the Joker chuckled once more. Still holding the front of the garment in place, he cut through the remaining strip of material on her other hip, using the razor sharp shears.
Snick!
Batgirl gasped, aware that the only things still preserving what little remained of her modesty, was the hand of the Clown Prince of Crime, still clutching the front of her briefs, plus her tightly clamped together thighs. She was also aware that this situation would not last.
“OLE!” the Joker cried, rising up to his full height, on the tips of his toes and yanking the scrap of underwear away from her body, with a flourish, like a matador pulling his red cape aside from the charging bull in a bullring. This caused her pelvis to jerk forward, involuntarily, clearly revealing her pussy to his crazed gaze.
“Very neat,” he added, with a chortle, admiring her neatly trimmed auburn beaver and the succulent glimpse of pouting pinkness within.
“You… you disgusting pervert!” Batgirl gasped, going red in the face and crossing her long legs, in a vain attempt at preserving what little modesty she had left.
“Har, har, har!” the Joker cackled, reaching out and tweaking her already prominent nipples into full hard erection.
He turned and stepped over to Sparrow, flourishing his shears, and preparing to remove her tightly clinging red underwear, in a similar dramatic fashion. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my dear,” he murmured, through his ghastly, painted grin. “I hope you weren’t feeling too left out of things? You look a little hot and flustered. Here, let me help cool you down.” He slipped the blade of his shears beneath the strip of tightly stretched material on her hip.
Snick!
Saturday, 12:10 am
The Joker lounged back on his gilded throne in the boudoir, and chuckled at the scene before him. The naked police officer, together with Sparrow, also naked apart from her cowl, mask and heels, were both facing him, strung up by their wrists. These were held high above their heads by lengths of hemp rope attached to an overhead cross-strut, part of the roof support lattice of the old warehouse. Their feet were just touching the floor, spread wide apart by means of three feet long spreader bars attached to their ankles by leather cuffs.
The Batgirl was kneeling on the floor with her knees apart, facing the nude law officer. Her wide-spread sex was openly displayed to the bound lawman. She was also naked, apart from her purple mask and Bat-cowl. Her ankles had been bound together with a short length of white nylon cord. Her crossed wrists had been tied together, behind her back, with a similar length of nylon cord. Her face was held close to the man’s crotch, by means of a thick leather slave collar buckled about her neck and an attached chain leash, currently loosely held in the hands of the towering Bull.
The Joker admired the heroine’s broad shoulders; the ripple of muscle just beneath the blemish free surface of her skin; the gentle curve of her back; the slim waist flaring out to rounded hips; her rounded, heart-shaped ass; and the pale soles of her bare feet. He felt the fat white slug, which was his cock, twitch within his baggy pants, as he gazed at this erotic scene.
Despite his determination NOT to become aroused, Phil Thackeray was sporting a raging hard-on and the bulbous head of his twitching cock, was mere inches away from the full, purple-painted lips of the gorgeous, near naked, vigilante, kneeling before him, like some Middle-Eastern slave girl, her eyes downcast, too ashamed to look up at his face.
Barbara felt a perverse fascination as she watched his thick penis bobbing up and down, through her long, luscious eyelashes, even though she had seen this particular impressive specimen before.
“Take him in your mouth, Bat-slut!” the Joker ordered, gleefully. Bull gave an encouraging jerk on the leash, yanking her face closer to Phil’s crotch. Batgirl’s nostrils flared, as she smelled the unmistakable scent of male arousal.
“Noooooooo! Never!” she moaned, vigorously shaking her head from side to side, tears glistening in her big green eyes. “I don’t care what you do to me! No way, you disgusting pervert!”
“God, she’s magnificent, soooo sexy,” Phil thought, closing his eyes, but still feeling her hot panting breath on the end of his engorged glans.
Phil grunted and his eyes jerked open again, as Shorty painfully rammed the cold muzzle of his gun into his belly. “Don’t go fallin’ asleep on us, cop!” the hoodlum growled, threateningly.
“Har! Har! Har!” chortled the Crazy Clown. “You will either do as I command, Bat-slut, or the cop is gonna get gut-shot and allowed to bleed to death, all over your sexy nude body. You ever see a guy who’s been shot in the guts, Bat-bitch? It ain’t a pleasant sight! The cop’s fate depends entirely on your next answer, bitch!”
Batgirl shuddered and made a hard decision. She straightened her spine, pushed back her shoulders, raised her chin, and then looked over at the Joker, with a look of utter disdain on her face. “Very well, but only under duress,” she agreed, bravely.
She swallowed hard and looked up at the handsome police officer, tears trickling down her cheeks, from beneath her Batmask. “Please forgive m-me, Officer Thackeray,” she whispered in a quavering voice.
He nodded. “You have no other choice, Dark Damsel,” he croaked, encouragingly. He could hardly wait for those luscious lips to wrap themselves about his rock hard erection.
Barbara gave a resigned sigh and opened her mouth, allowing Bull to guide the thick shaft between her wide-stretched, purple-painted lips.
Phil groaned and jerked his hips forward, as he felt her tongue lave over the underside of his cock, and he eagerly forced himself deeper into the sexy heroine’s hot wet mouth. Soon, he felt Shorty’s hands on his hips, guiding him in and out of the girl’s tight oral orifice, and felt an orgasm starting to build from the base of his belly.
“If I die after this, it will have almost been worth it,” Phil told himself, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, the better to enjoy the incredible sensations he was experiencing.
Shorty gradually upped the tempo of Phil’s pistoning, as he grew closer and closer to his climax. Now, the police officer was automatically grunting with each new thrust. “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!”
“I’m gonna cum!” he gasped, finally, trying to pull out of Batgirl’s mouth, but between them, Bull and Shorty held him fully inside her, as he started to jet spurts of thick, viscous semen into the back of the courageous heroine’s throat.
Batgirl coughed and gagged, desperately swallowing his discharge, as she tried to clear her air passages. Excess cum oozed out from between her tightly stretched lips and his thick shaft, running down over her chin and glistening, obscenely.
Finally, Phil was allowed to pull his shrinking member from her mouth and she lowered her head, tears of self disgust merging with the cum on her chin, before dripping onto her heaving breasts, as she gradually recovered her breath.
“I always suspected that you were nothing but a cheap slut, Batgirl!” exclaimed the Joker, with his gruesome fixed grin. “You should be walkin’ the streets of Gotham, NOT patrolling them! Har, har, har!” The two male gang members, joined in the laughter.
Joker eventually turned his attention to her sexy, cowled companion. “Now, let’s find out just how slutty the sexy Sparrow is!” he declared.
“WHAT?” Sparrow gasped, coming out of the trance-like state she had slipped into, as she watched her closest friend giving Phil head. “Please, nooo! He’s already been sucked dry,” she pleaded, vainly tugging at the ropes binding her slim wrists.
The Joker cackled. “I am well aware of that fact, you blonde bimbo. A dyke like YOU deserves to be serviced by someone of her own gender.”
He glanced behind her and his eyes lit up. “Ah, Harls, I see you are ready to satisfy this blonde bitch?”
“Anything for you, Puddin’!” replied the black and white harlequin clad blonde, stepping past Sparrow and over to the golden throne, before kissing the back of his outstretched hand, lovingly.
Sparrow’s big blue eyes widened with shock at the sight of the huge strap-on dildo buckled about the other girl’s hips.
“Noooooooooo!” she cried, aghast. “You cannot be serious. Please, nooooooooo!”
“Har, har, har!” The Joker guffawed. “I’ve always wanted to see some real ‘blonde on blonde’ action.”
“M-My vagina could NEVER take something that s-size,” stuttered the pale faced blonde, shaking her head, vigorously, her eyes glued to the huge, life-like dildo, bobbing up and down in front of Harley’s crotch.
“Who said anything about your pussy, slut.”
“But, what…”
“Have you every had it in that pretty little ass before, Sparrow?”
“You can’t be s-serious? Tell me you are joking,” she gasped, squirming, desperately, as the smiling Harley walked around behind her and out of her field of view. She felt the other girl’s hands on her shapely buttocks, spreading her ass cheeks apart, then the head of the huge dildo, nudging against her small, brown, anal sphincter.
“Nooooooooooooooo!” she protested, shaking her head and trying, in vain, to pull away.
“Relax, I’m sure you’re going to love every minute.” Joker nodded toward Harley and she thrust her hips forward, penetrating the blonde’s tight asshole.
“Arrrrgggghhhh!” Sparrow cried, jerking forward as much as her bondage would allow, which wasn’t very far. The Caped Cutie was so tight that only the first inch of the life-like dildo had managed to overcome the resistance of her powerful anal muscles, which were desperately trying to prevent the ingress of this unwanted intruder.
“She is delightfully tight, Mistah J!” Harley informed her insane lover. “Just like I used to be, when you first met me, Puddin’.”
“Get on with it,” snarled the Crown Prince of Crime, growing impatient.
Harley firmly gripped the girl’s hips and thrust again, partially overcoming the resistance and penetrating a further inch or so.
Sparrow wailed in agony, with each successive thrust, until the white-faced harlequin’s artificial appendage was fully embedded inside her shapely ass. By now, Sparrow was drenched in sweat. The pain in her ass was terrific, but at least she hadn’t been split in two, which had been her overriding concern.
Harley began to slowly rotate her hips and ease in and out of the blonde’s pert rear. She knew how she liked her own ass reamed and figured the girl would have similar preferences.
Slowly, at first, Sparrow’s pain began to recede, to be replaced by a feeling of intense pleasure. The costumed rapist slipped her hands around Sparrow’s hips then reached down and drew apart her outer labia. Then she began to rub and squeeze the girl’s already puffy engorged clitoris, in time with her rhythmic pistoning.
Nor had they any idea of his plans for Danya. The girl had been alive as late as a week ago, but what were his intentions for her? What was his destination, if he had one? He was aware of their pursuit; they had encountered numerous ambushes, and the path he had taken was meandering, with no obvious direction; plainly, he was trying to throw off pursuit.
“We’ve got to get ahead of him,” Sasha agreed, signaling to the proprietor, a large, bearded man, for another round for all of them.
“We’ve got to know where he’s going first,” Anastasia observed sourly. Of all of them, she had been closest to Danya, and the months of uncertainty had taken its toll on her usually cheerful temperament.
“Thay.”
As one, they turned to the woman who had spoken. She sat alone at the table next to them, a two hand sword, obviously well made, beside her, and the firelight reflecting off emerald green eyes.
“You need to go to Thay,” she repeated, her voice strangely toneless. As she turned her head to them, her dark hair fell away from her cheek to reveal four thin, parallel scars. She was young, younger than Sasha, perhaps in her late twenties, but her eyes…her eyes seemed weary beyond her years.
“How do you know that?” Shiloh challenged, mildly annoyed at being overheard, something she was normally careful not to permit.
A flash of scorn in the green eyes. “He’s a Red Wizard, yes? He’ll head for Thay, try to enlist others of his damn kind to help him.”
Shiloh looked questioningly at Sasha, who shrugged. They already knew that their quarry was a Red Wizard. What the stranger said made sense. “Can you show us the best way to get to Thay?” she asked, pulling out their well used maps.
“I’ll do more than that,” the newcomer announced, getting to her feet. “I’ll show you the way myself.”
The proprietor paused at their table with the tray of mugs, his expression concerned. “Callia?”
She glanced at him, the flash of pain in her eyes there and gone so quickly that Sasha could not be certain that it had not been a trick of the dancing flames. “I haven’t been to Thay yet, Durnan,” she murmured. “Maybe he’s there…”
And so Callia Blackhawk had joined them…and yet remained apart from them.
She asked nothing of them beyond the information pertinent to their mission, and she offered nothing about herself, but in every town they passed through, they watched her questioning person after person, watched hope die in her eyes time after time.
And the nights…
Their first night on the road, her scream had brought Cree running from her sentry post and the rest of them rolling out of their blankets with weapons ready.
“Nightmare,” she’d said through gritted teeth, her sweat drenched face so forbidding that none of them ventured to ask her more.
Subsequent nights proved no more peaceful for their mysterious companion; tossing restlessly in her blankets, she would call out for Valen – or, less frequently, for someone she called “Master” - in the voice of a lost child, tears running down her cheeks.
Delaney’s children had been dead for several years, but the mother in her could not let a cry in the night go unanswered. Sitting beside Callia, she would gently stroke her hair, crooning long-unused lullabies. If the warrior woke to such attention, she would immediately curl away mistrustfully, but more often than not, the dreams would subside and she would drift into a more restful slumber.
Each of the others had taken turns at this new sentry duty, giving Delaney a chance to get some sleep herself, and they all found themselves growing attached to the newcomer, recognizing the same indefinable bonds that had first brought the five of them together so many years ago.
Callia stubbornly resisted their overtures of friendship, however, observing the camaraderie between the five of them, first with disbelieving scorn, as though certain that it was all only pretense, then with the wistful resignation of one certain that such caring could never include her.
Sasha had never seen Callia’s equal in battle; the greatsword was a seamless extension of herself, wielded with merciless efficiency, but she was utterly heedless of her own safety, hurling herself into combat without ever bothering to check that the others were ready to back her up.
Sasha had tried to take her aside, explain the advantages of fighting as a team, but she had received only a glare from the barbarian.
“I fight alone!” she had snapped, spinning on her heel and stalking away, leaving Sasha to turn to the others with a helpless shrug.
Still, as the days on the road together had turned into weeks, she had slowly begun to thaw, at least marginally, joining in their fireside conversations at the end of the day, responding to Cree’s quips with a sardonic humor of her own.
Then they had come to Thay.
In passing through Rasheman, the long standing enmity between the Rashemi and the Thayvians, combined with the nature of their quest, had allowed them to enlist the aid of one of the more powerful witches of that land, a dusky skinned woman named Suldanierra. Callia’s guidance had indeed enabled them to reach the borders of Thay ahead of their quarry, and Suldanierra’s scrying had allowed them to intercept the Red Wizard before he entered his homeland.
The battle had raged across the forest glen where they had confronted Odesseiron, Danya huddled fearfully beneath a tree as Suldanierra and the Red Wizard hurled spells at each other and the six warriors launched themselves against the monsters summoned by the wizard. Callia had moved among them like a whirlwind, dealing death on all sides, while Sasha and her four sisters had assumed their usual, tightly coordinated battle formation: Sasha and Anastasia on point with sword and shield, Cree ranging behind them with her daggers, Delaney hanging back slightly, ready to make use of either mace or healing spells as need dictated, and Shiloh in the rear, sending barb-tipped arrows into the fray with deadly accuracy.
It was a routine perfected by years of use – modified only slightly, to take advantage of Delaney’s new skills – and it allowed them to come through the battle with relatively few injuries. Not so their lone companion. Sasha winced each time she saw Callia struck by one of the opponents that beset her on all sides; though the barbarian seemed oblivious to her wounds, Delaney kept her healed as best she could in the swirling confusion.
Finally, the last of the summoned monsters fell, vanishing into nothingness, and the six of them spun on the Red Wizard, who, along with Suldanierra, had apparently exhausted his combat spells.
With Callia’s blade at his throat, Odesseiron had opened the portal, revealing the long-missed walls of Edinton. Danya had gone through first, but without warning, the Red Wizard had produced a scroll from within his robes, and with a few guttural syllables had summoned a demon, a massive creature that seemed composed of equal parts flame and shadow, more formidable by far than anything Sasha and the others had faced since arriving in the Realms.
Callia had not hesitated, hurling herself forward to engage the monstrosity, shouting a single word to them
“Go!”
They had all known what she meant, but the idea of entering the portal, leaving her to face the wrath of the beast with only the exhausted Suldanierra for aid, was something that none of them even considered.
They attacked as one, but the demon was something utterly outside their experience. It was Callia who ultimately defeated the demon, her blade a quicksilver blur as she sought out the most vulnerable points of attack, leaving Sasha and the others to act as distraction, giving her the openings she needed.
A final, brutal thrust of her sword had vanquished the demon at last, but even before it had fully faded back into the plane from which it had been summoned, the wizard had struck, burying a dagger in her exposed back.
Shiloh’s arrow and Cree’s dagger had hit Odesseiron at almost the same instant, and Sasha and Anastasia had been upon him before Callia had collapsed to the ground, their swords sealing his fate.
Too late for Callia…
Delaney had reached her almost before she had fallen, already casting what healing spells she had left, ignoring Callia’s attempts at protest, but the wound in her back had been only one of a multitude of grievous injuries she had sustained in her last battle, and Delaney’s limited skills had been unable to reverse the damage.
Callia had died, her last words a plea that they not have her resurrected.
Sasha gritted her teeth at the memory. For her to have died that way…stabbed in the back by a coward after fighting so valiantly.
“I should have been watching the bastard…should’ve known he’d try something like that.”
She didn’t engage in self-recrimination and second-guessing very often, but the aftermath of that fight had haunted them all as they found themselves facing the probability that they were trapped permanently in the Realms. The portal had closed when Edwin died, and Suldanierra had admitted that, although she was capable of opening a portal, she had no way of locating their world; that knowledge had died with the Red Wizard.
Callia had sacrificed herself for them…for nothing. And now, only a month later, the object of her desperate search had appeared.
“And what in the Nine Hells are we supposed to tell him…assuming that we can actually free him?”
That they would make the attempt had been a given for all of them, but Sasha was not the only one with concerns.
“If this Valen is who she was looking for,” Shiloh told Sasha as they left Cormyr, “then he damn sure didn’t leave her because he wanted to. Have you thought about what’s going to happen if he’s even half as devoted to her as she was to him?”
Sasha nodded slowly. Part of her – most of her – hoped that Valen would prove worthy of Callia’s obvious love for him, but she dreaded his response when they told him that she had died in search of him, believing that he had abandoned her. “I have,” she replied with a sigh. “We’re likely to wind up with another death seeker on our hands.”
“And?”
Sasha glanced at her friend in irritation. She knew that Shiloh was not suggesting that they leave Valen imprisoned. As their chief tactician, she made a point of examining all potential aspects of any situation they were about to enter, even playing the role of devil’s advocate, when necessary. But it didn’t stop it from being damned annoying on certain occasions. Like now.
“Is this really necessary?” Sasha growled.
“Just wondering what you planned to do if that was the case,” Shiloh replied, ignoring Sasha’ irritability – as Sasha had known she would.
“Do?” Sasha snorted, and then fell into a melancholy silence. The death of another companion, even one newly met, was not a prospect that she relished, but – “The choice of life or death is his to make,” she said finally. “All we can do is give him the freedom to make it. We owe Callia that much.”
Shiloh nodded, reaching out to give her shoulder an understanding squeeze. “That we do,” she said simply, dark eyes thoughtful. “That we do.”
Sasha’ thoughts were returned to the present by the low hooting of a barn owl; seconds later, the call was repeated. Shiloh opened her eyes as Cree stalked back into camp.
“We’re going to have to wait,” she announced, dropping to the ground beside Delaney, her face a mask of disgust. “You’re not gonna believe this.”
*CHAPTER 5*
Valen swayed, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cage as the wagon stopped unexpectedly. He stretched a little and listened carefully to the sounds outside.
The rest of the carriages were being arranged in a circle, and that could only mean they had stopped for the night. Suddenly he heard the low, domineering voice of the circus owner, ordering the guards to take their assigned positions and keep an eye on the cart with the tiefling inside.
“The Duke will arrive shortly after sunset,” the owner announced. “He doesn’t wish to be seen by too many peasants, so don’t you dare look around or look at him once he and his guest are here, understood?”
A clang of armor as the guards saluted was the only answer.
Valen frowned and began staring intently at the narrow, wooden door, reinforced with several rusty iron bars. Soon another person joined the conversation.
“He will bring the wizard with him, sir,” a low, servile voice stated.
“I know that, cretin!” Quick footsteps indicated that the owner felt uneasy about the situation. “And considering what he has planned for our precious thing, the fight will have to be organized WITHOUT a cage.”
Valen jumped to his feet, straining his hearing to catch every single word spoken outside.
“But what if he tries to escape?” The servant’s voice trembled.
A heavy slap proved his question to be foolishly pointless.
“The collar will stop him, fool,” the owner snapped. “Scout the area nearest to the camp and find a clearing big enough for the fight. We need to prepare some kind of arena there…”
“Of course, sir.” The voices were getting more and more difficult to hear as the men were walking away. “I will take care of it myself, sir. And I will make sure that the seats for the spectators are comfortable enough. Sir, I was thinking about…”
The tiefling sighed and rested his forehead against the bars. Their cold touch brought him back to reality. The chance of escape vanished as soon as it had appeared. For the millionth time, he cursed the metal ring around his neck. He sat down again and leaned against the bars, crossing his arms on his chest.
Another fight then. Something special this time. Valen shrugged. Whatever they prepared for him, he had slain much more powerful opponents while he had been fighting in the Blood Wars.
Only one question remained unanswered, making him feel a bit uneasy – what would they need the wizard for?
~*~
They came for him shortly after midnight, when the commotion outside announcing the arrival of the guest had subsided. The tiefling watched with his eyes narrowed to loathing slits as the two guards approached the cage and unlocked the door. The metal squeaked annoyingly.
Gesturing for Valen to come closer, they kept their weapons ready, wary of his every motion. The tiefling only gritted his teeth and slowly stepped outside the cage. As he was passing by the men, his imagination brought him dozens of tormenting images of how easily he could break the guard’s necks and slay everybody around in an instant… how easily he could free himself if not for that cursed collar.
The taller of the sentries shoved his back to make him move forward, but he instantly regretted doing so, as Valen’s fist slammed into his jaw, sending him to the dusty floor with a loud thump. Before he gathered himself and got to his feet, however, the tiefling, visibly resigned to his fate, had already dropped his clenched hands to his sides and let them lead him outside.
~*~
The Duke settled himself comfortably in a throne-like armchair prepared for him at a safe distance from the arena. He kept his gaze fixed on the large creature standing on the sand-covered part of the glade and he couldn’t stop shaking his head in disbelief.
“My dear Kalbryn,” he whispered, putting his hand on the mage’s arm, “this thing is absolutely breath-taking. Truly, you are the greatest of my wizards. You have prepared a great entertainment for me, and you will be rewarded properly.”
The mage shifted in his seat by the throne and bowed slightly, even though his lord couldn’t see that.
“But I am no expert in demonology,” the excited voice proved the Duke’s delight. “Enlighten me as to what kind of demon it is.”
Kalbryn sighed quietly. He was very tired after casting the complicated summoning spell he had been preparing for many days, and he hardly had the strength to explain such basics to satisfy the curious ignorant.
“This is not a demon but a devil, your grace,” he explained evenly and slowly, careful not to show his contempt for his lord’s unfamiliarity with such important issues. “I summoned it because it is a baatezu, the natural enemy of all tanar’ri, which are demons. And I believe the tiefling they keep here is partly a tanar’ri.”
“My friend,” the Duke’s fingers squeezed the wizard’s arm impatiently, “I wanted you to EXPLAIN to me what kind of creature it is, so do it now.”
“I beg your forgiveness, my lord,” the wizard offered him another unnoticed bow. “The baatezu are the primary inhabitants of the Nine Hells. They are a strong, evil-tempered race held together by an equally strong organization. The baatezu live in a rigid caste system where authority is derived from power and station.”
The Duke sat at the edge of his seat, clasping his hands and resting them on his lap in anticipation of the fight. “Yes, yes, continue!” he urged in the tone of a child demanding to know the end of a bedtime story as soon as possible.
The wizard smiled a little. “Knowing that your grace wished to watch an enjoyable fight, I allowed myself to summon a pit fiend, the most terrible baatezu of the Nine Hells,” he offered proudly. “Pit fiends are the lords of the Nine Hells. They are the baatezu of the greatest power and the highest station. They can be found throughout the various layers of the Nine Hells, but are very rare on the upper layers. But wherever they are found, these powerful lords hold a position of great authority and power. They are extraordinarily intelligent, so they sometimes command vast legions consisting of dozens of complete armies, leading them into battle against the tanar’ri, their blood enemies.”
The Duke inhaled sharply, overwhelmed by the might of the creature struggling to set itself free before his very eyes. “So they are in a state of war?”
“Yes, my lord.” Knowing that it wouldn’t be noticed in the darkness, Kalbryn rolled his eyes. “This war has raged in the planes since the beginnings of time and we humans’ use the term Blood Wars when we talk about it. Sometimes, the war affects the Prime Material Plane as well.” Seeing the confusion on the Duke’s face, enhanced grotesquely by the flickering light from the fires, the wizard quickly explained, “That is our world. The baatezu know that by infiltrating humans and entering their world they will gain power over the tanar’ri. Toward this end they constantly strive to dominate the Prime Material Plane and its natives.”
“Ah, I see,” was the only answer he got. The Duke had obviously grown bored. “Let the fight begin!” He clapped his hands and nodded for the circus owner to fetch the tiefling.
~*~
Valen quickly scanned the improvised arena, lit by small fires burning all around it, and froze, seeing the opponent awaiting him in the middle.
A giant, gargoyle-like humanoid stood there, completely motionless, held by a powerful immobilizing spell. It was the standard procedure of the circus owner to let the opponent attack at a carefully planned moment, just as the spectators’ anticipation was reaching the climax.
The creature had its huge wings wrapped around its red, scaly body. It kept its mouth half open, a furious growl rolling in its throat.
“A pit fiend. Baatezu”. Valen’s blood boiled at the ancient call of the Blood Wars. Long forgotten since he met Callia.
“Callia… ”
His fists clenched again. Suddenly, the pit fiend’s words invaded his mind as it used telepathy to communicate.
“I will tear your weakling body to pieces, half-breed. ”
The tiefling stopped right at the arena’s edge, marked by small stones arranged in a large circle. He looked up at his adversary. Two rows of large fangs, dripping with a vile, green liquid and a powerful, muscular tail made him wince. This was going to be a difficult fight. But pure pleasure as well. Valen couldn’t help a cruel smile.
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