Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 28

"Are they under attack?"

"No, Imminence."

If barbarians truly threatened, the bells ought to have come continuously in threes, not threes and twos in alternation.

"Then what?"

Chantal, her face strained, continued taking down colours, the set of her shoulders telling her Goddess she waited for the completion of the message.

She gulped once.

"Beshenna has fallen, Imminence."

"Nine gods. What happened? How long ago?"

The woman shook her head.

"I am only getting details now."

The platform filled up with more of Form's Enforcers. Ignoring nudity protocols, the ceremonial guards stripped on the spot to rid themselves of their formal leathers and switching to the full length, chain reinforced leather armour meant for battle.

'Leave it to Form,' she eyed the hard, naked female bodies around her, 'to break the rules when they see fit.'

If the message contained accurate information, however, no danger could reach them for days. The Goddess pursed her lips, waiting for the information that would tell her what action to take.

"The runner took three days to reach us since the Fall," Chantal continued her decoding and scribbling.

'Three days,' the Goddess thought, 'they'll barely have felt the effects yet.'

"The Goddess of Beshenna had Weakened and passed," the pale scribe read on.

The woman in black tried not to keep her sadness at bay. Such things happened, after all, but a proper Goddess did not allow her death to bring about the Fall of her Temple.

"Sweetness died."

A Queen had died with her Goddess, leaving three possibilities if the Temple had fallen.

"Within died."

The Goddess winced and waited.

"Any other deaths?" she asked.

"No," Chantal shook her head. "There is more coming, but it's complicated."

"They've only lost one Perfection, then?"

"Yes," Chantal nodded with certainty. "And they request our aid."

Gern's proximity to Beshenna made it the wisest source for the help her sisters needed.

The Goddess exhaled and stepped away from the two women and their post to face a pale and topless guard commander, taking her turn and allowing lower ranking attendants to switch her armour.

"Inform your Queen we'll be sending a delegation to escort a Conduit to Beshenna," she ordered. "Make sure she knows the Temple has already been down for three days."

"Yes, Imminence."

"And bring me Zhair'lo M'han."

"Imminence?"

"The Conduit, woman," the Goddess raised her voice. "He's Beshenna's best hope. Go find him with his Fighter squad, wherever he is, and bring him to my bed chamber as soon as possible."

The guard commander passed this order to another.

"And you there," the woman in black pointed at an attendant, "get me a scroll. I have a message for the Queen of Sweetness."

She had scrolls to write and obligations to be fulfilled. A woman could do no less for her sisters in danger, and no more for the son she'd entrusted to the genealogists of Beshenna. The night would be long and the next day's dawn upon them before all was done.

------===================-------

"Highness!" an Officer shouted.

"I'm right here, fool," the Queen of Form hissed back.

Unlike the Goddess, she remained within the well fortified confines of her own domain. Whereas her superior needed immediate access to information, the Queen of Form knew the best place for her posterior was at the nerve centre of her city's military might. A large map of the Temple had been spread out across one desk, with wooden markers showing which gates stood properly sealed. Another desk showed the Temple in smaller scale, leaving enough room to add the woods and roads around it.

Reports came in and orders flowed out. Movement of female bodies was constant. As much as the Goddess might dictate policy, the physical defence of the Temple's walls remained Form's responsibility.

She allowed herself a moment of admiration for the cold efficiency of her underlings.

"A report from the signals Officer," the breathless woman gasped as she arrived beside her Queen.

"And?"

"It's Beshenna. Beshenna's fallen."

"Further details?" the Queen took this in stride. Demonstrations of panic ill befit a Queen.

"They lost a Perfection. Nothing further as yet."

Wheels spun in the Queen's head as she marched over to another map, this one hanging from the wall. Attendants and officers followed the swirl of her red skirt to a giant contour map showing a large chunk of the empire run by the Goddesses and their Temples.

She laid a long, pale finger on the map and traced a line from Beshenna to Gern.

"Three days," she said, "if they sent a proper runner."

She paused thoughtfully, her brow laden with calculations.

"Four days to bring a proper armed force back," she pursed her lips. "And it will need to be quite an army to get through the -"

Queens, she realized, shouldn't wince.

Then she spoke the words that, in a different context, she'd wished to speak for days.

"Summon Master Kendrick," she ordered. "Where is he?"

"South Barracks," an Officer reported instantly.

"And send a messenger to the nearest Carter's depot ...?" she trailed off expectantly.

"Master Ellis," another voice filled in.

"Tell Master Ellis we'll need four heavy carts and the twenty four oxen to pull them."

The numbers came to her easily, because military logistics constituted the bulk of her duties.

'Ah, Kendrick,' the Queen thought. 'I could have summoned you to my bed a week ago. The rules allow it, but I always prefer to savour the extra few days, pitting my willpower against my desires.'

It didn't matter, really. Once Master Kendrick had arranged the expedition to Beshenna and sent them off, she would arrange a Summons to bring him to the bed of his Queen.

------===================-------

Principia Sweetness hosted a quieter gathering. The Queen sat calmly behind her desk, her attendants and Officers around her, themselves surrounded by armoured guards.

They, too, had heard the news of Beshenna's fall, but could do little about it besides mourn. No raging hordes likely approached Gern, at least not for several days. The sudden arrival of so many of Form's guards constituted excessive alarm in the opinion of this particular Queen.

"A message from her Imminence," a small voice squeaked from beyond the beige wall of leather.

"Let her through," a Sweetness Officer insisted to the hesitant guards. "Look at her! The scroll is sealed in black."

A small scuffle ensued where the Queen couldn't see it, followed by a small girl's squeak.

"No!" the Sweetness Officer insisted again. "You don't need to search her. Where's she going to hide anything in that outfit? For the gods's sakes!"

Wide-eyed with trepidation, a small Initiate in a tiny white outfit carefully picked her way through the giant women between her and the Queen.

"A message and urgent orders from the Goddess," she curtsied and laid the scroll on the table.

The Queen of Sweetness eyed the girl briefly, "Wait in case I need to make a reply."

The girl nodded and looked around nervously at the women in orange.

"It's alright sweetheart," one Officer assured her. "We won't let them bite you."

Twisting her lips, the Queen cracked open the scroll and felt the blood run from her face.

'Zhair'lo,' she felt dead inside, 'she wants to use Zhair'lo. After all our work ...'

How many days travel would it be for him?

She shook her head sadly, forcing herself to agree the boy stood the best chance of saving Beshenna. The thousands of lives at stake had to outweigh the risks to any single person, even one who had been the focus of so much of their breeding effort.

The Queen closed her eyes, trying not let the sadness wash through without overwhelming her as the impending scene played itself out inside her head. She only lamented Zhair'lo for a few heartbeats, knowing she had a duty to support her Goddess's commands. Without question, the choice of such a young Conduit on such a long journey required further orders on her part.

'I wish,' she beamed her thoughts into the air, imagining they reached Zhair'lo, wherever he might be, 'I wish I could give you day after day of joy and happiness. I wish I could give you pleasure from my own body beyond your wildest dreams. Instead, I will play my part in this, and may the gods agree with our cold calculation because we aren't giving you any choice in the matter.'

"Scrolls," the Queen demanded, when her pity had bled itself out. "Three of them."

The first went to the Sorceress of Within. The next two would find their ways to the Seconds of Pussy and Lips. Men would have to be found as well, and anyone currently in line for the Augmentation Chamber could damn well wait until tomorrow.

------===================-------

"What's happening? Do you know?" Mindi asked, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Is the city under attack?"

She looked eager as ever, as if the very best of her fantasies had come to life. While he had moved quickly to retrieve his clothing, she had only sat up far enough to put her feet on the floor, her naked breasts heaving with the delight of the moment

"No," Zhair'lo said quietly, looking out the window. "That's the wrong pattern. But something's wrong in the Eastern Barracks."

"You're going to put your real armour on, aren't you?" Mindi's eyes lit up. "Don't you have to run out right away?"

Zhair'lo eyed her with a smirk, realizing this evening hit her most ardent desires like a bull's eye. Not only did she get violently ravaged by a Fighter - she would be exaggerating her difficulty sitting down for days - but she could tell all of the unfortunate interruption to her Service when danger had spirited her Fighter away. He imagined, quite easily, Mindi putting a false tear in her eye and looking longingly into the distance with a resolute look on her face.

Zhair'lo could at least say he'd done well by her.

"It's best not to run straight out into the streets," Zhair'lo advised as he dressed in his regular clothing. "We form up as squads first - at least once all the men are dressed, then we'll find the women. We'll stick together, see?"

He searched his brain and found one of Sergeant Yung's best remarks, "We don't win battles with recklessness."

Mindi nodded at him as if he'd dispensed some ageless wisdom.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to the Temple,too?" he asked her. "Maybe put some clothes on?"

Women, even the ones not due to be in the centre of any battles, had some obligations under such warning bells.

"I suppose," Mindi's voice turned sad. "I just didn't want this evening to end."

With a leap from the bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the dirty brown locks of hair he still hadn't cut to standard Fighter length. Where her breasts pressed against his still bare chest, he felt the warmth of her conviction.

"Be safe," she whispered.

As Zhair'lo held the safety of the streets as a certainty, he reassured her with a quick, "Of course."

Then, in the stern manner one expected of a soldier, he braced her by taking hold of her shoulders and pushed her away.

"You need to get back to the Temple. Please."

With a gulp and a nod, she grabbed her clothing and had the two pieces of it laced up before he'd even finished with his shirt.

Fighters and city women filled the hallway as they filed their way down to the common room. The women quietly sorted themselves out by Division, the men according to their squads. They would wait, each in their groups, until all presented themselves. Mindi gave Zhair'lo's hand a last squeeze before she departed for the far end of the room.

Kit and Z'rus joined Zhair'lo almost instantly, and each had his own speculations.

"Three, two, three, two," Kit pronounced. "Could be anything except actual barbarians at the gates, right?"

"Impending attack," Z'rus warned in a weary voice. "That's all. Impending but not urgent. It means we get ready, but we've got time."

Z'rus tried to look as if he didn't care, but betrayed himself by adding, "What's taking Renzi so long?"

"He might have been meshed," Zhair'lo pointed out.

"And what?" Kit asked. "His cock wore out and he can't come?"

"Maybe she used her teeth too much," Z'rus added helpfully.

Their banter, unusually loud and high-pitched, betrayed their nerves.

Zhair'lo hid his own hope: that Talla and her friends had actually kicked off their fire. He took a deep breath and reached out, but felt a barrier blocking his connection.

'Focus, dammit,' he told himself.

And, suddenly, Talla came through with a feeling of breathless exhaustion.

'Why were we blocked?' he asked.

'Had to,' she replied, 'our meshes would have gotten tangled.'

Zhair'lo saw the wisdom of that instantly, but wondered when she'd developed the ability.

'Where are you?'

'Serving on the south side. Heading home now, fast. We all are.'

'You'll be passing by here, then.'

He showed her his location, which she understood easily, knowing the buildings nearest the Temple by heart.

Then Talla faded away again, concentrating on her comrades and their return home.

Returning his attention to the men around him, he saw Chief Cameron coming down the stairs.

"Alright, Fighters," his gruff voice projected a grim calm over top of the incessant, keening bell. "The protocol is for us to remain here until the women have arrived. They're scattered all over this side of the city, so it's way easier to gather here. Let's get our armour on and get everything laid out for the women when they get back."

It surprised Zhair'lo not at all to find out a contingency plan prepared for the situation. He wondered what Mindi would think of the Heroic Fighters standing around idly, waiting to reunite with the women, while the bell tolled and tolled.

The city women, still waiting for their numbers to fill out, moved out of the way as men pushed the doors open and starting hauling in armour and weapons off the carts parked in the alley. The older men took theirs first, heedless of being nearly naked in the presence of the women. Nudity would have been a joke in the Barracks showers. Here, in the seriousness of battle preparations, the men checked and rechecked their weapons and the fastenings on their armour without a smile passing anyone's lips.

Eventually, Zhair'lo and his squad had their turns to gird themselves, just as Renzi finally joined them.

"What took you?" Kit asked.

"We got ... uh ... stuck," Renzi turned his eyes away and focused on his armour.

"Stuck?"

"She got spooked," Renzi looked up at the ceiling. "Took a while to come, okay?"

Sheepishly, a tiny girl slunk around the wall past the assembled and joined her sisters at the far end of the room. Zhair'lo wondered for a moment about Renzi's experience. A mesh couldn't be broken without an orgasm, but what had happened to the two of them?

He shrugged it off and took up his weapon. Alone among the men, Zhair'lo carried a bow. He might have stood out if not for the presence of the giant double-bladed axe Chief Cameron managed to strap to his back.

"Does that thing really work as a weapon?" Kit wondered quietly to Zhair'lo.

"I don't see any swords on him, so I'd guess so."

The heavy, dark axe carried a certain dread with it. Together with the man's bulk, Zhair'lo felt weak at the knees whenever he imagined having to fight someone like Cameron. The man's skin looked thick enough to deflect several arrows as a prelude to slicing his foes in half. Zhair'lo shivered and reminded himself flesh, no matter how weathered, couldn't actually stop an arrow.

Still, the bell tolled, heralding a conflict somewhere out beyond the ring road.

He estimated a quarter bell passed between when he and Mindi had left bedroom sixteen and when the heavily armoured Form women showed up at the door.

Chief Cameron, expecting their squad mates to be rushing back from their scattered Services, squinted oddly at the four women. None of these belonged to any of the squads waiting inside and besides, none of the Fighter women would have their armour yet.

"What news?" he asked.

The leader of the guards looked around the room, seeing the Fighter men on one side, fully armoured, and the city women in their frippery on the other side.

"Beshenna has fallen," she announced tersely, heedless of the gasps of dismay that followed.

Cameron took this in stride, a true Fighter. Zhair'lo had never seen the man show fear before and expected no less from him now.

'A Temple has fallen!' he shouted to Talla in his mind. 'Beshenna. It's Beshenna, not Gern, but one has fallen!'

'How do you know? Are you sure?' Talla seemed ready to burst.

'There are Form women here. They've just told us.'

Talla's glee came back to him so perfectly, he nearly mistook it for an echo of his own.

'They're free, then? They can do whatever they want? No more Temple?'

'I guess so,' Zhair'lo shrugged back, 'I've got on other infor-'

"Her Imminence Summons Zhair'lo M'han," the guard at the door announced to all.

Zhair'lo, shocked, broke his connection with Talla as he stared at the woman who had spoken his name.

"What?" Chief Cameron froze too, as if some terror rooted him through the hard, wooden floors to the soil beneath. "Him?"

"Me?" Zhair'lo called out, feeling the gaze of every eye in the room. "Why?"

"Her Imminence will explain," the guard's voice brooked no opposition. "You will come immediately."

"Kit, Renzi, Z'rus," Chief Cameron's body thawed and his voice came out harsh. "Stay with him."

"My orders -" the woman began.

"Did not explicitly exclude his squad mates," Cameron's voice was harsh. "And we don't break up squads without explicit orders. They stay together. Move! All of you!"

Terror began to scrape at the pit of Zhair'lo's stomach, which suddenly felt hollowed out as if he hadn't eaten in days. Not only had his Chief's reaction disturbed him, but he found himself being rushed out the door and through the streets accompanied by tall, dark armoured guards once again. The last time they'd taken Zhair'lo away like this, it had been to torture Talla and force him to - he didn't want to think about that.

'What's wrong?' Talla came through again, having sensed his anxiety.

'I don't know. The Goddess has Summoned me.'

Zhair'lo felt a gut-deep shift in her, even as he ran. Talla, he realized, had left her Endowment comrades and changed course toward him.

'No! There's nothing you can do about this.'

'Nine hells there isn't,' her anger came through loud and clear.

And their link went blank again as she began devoting all her energy to the run.

------===================-------

"Master Kendrick!" the Queen of Form shouted, rising from her desk with a satisfied smile and ignoring the gathered female Officers she'd been conversing with. "You arrived quickly."

Relief flooded the Queen, a consequence of her expectation the grizzled Master of Fighters would radiate confidence into their midst.

Instead, his dark, hooded eyes caught hers.

"I received your message en route, Highness," his comforting brogue rolled over her. "I understand we're sending this boy as the Conduit?"

"Aye, Master Fighter," she answered, falling into his dialect.

Kendrick didn't quite shake his head, but disappointment - and a shade of rebellious disagreement - showed in the tilt of his head.

"Who will have Authority when we march?"

"Gillian," the Queen of Form replied.

"I trained her myself," Kendrick nodded his approval. Then, lowering his eyes to the map on the desk between them, he added, "I'll take Command."

Everything stopped, then, an entire room sensing the tension this last statement created. Master Kendrick, though a great man, had already pushed his luck with his abrupt interrogation. Making a request to Command would be another level of impertinence, right here in the Queen's own Domain. But declaring himself to be in Command?