Breet & The Heart Of Lust

A Tale In The World Of Ur-Earth

Demons spoke in the night air, whispering of antiquity horrors and alluring pleasures mankind has lost long ago. Breet, spat into the sea, feeling a distasteful bile rise in her throat. Surely her spirit was strong, but her heart—it was an aching pain in her chest that made her question all her principals. Honor, strength, and freedom, all seemed to ebb away at the closing of the day, and the revealing of the night sky, stars filled the sky, and the moon rose over the horizon nearly blinding her from its pale yellow light. 

‘Vile moonlight.’ she cursed in her mind, what hope does her gloomy eyes have to such a fierce light. Tucking her dark crimson hair under a helm of leather and chainmail, she heaved a massive rope to the side. 

Tying up the sails, she allowed the gentle waves of the sea to pull her about, rocking her boat side to side, as he leaned on the rudder and closed her weary eyes. Dreams were not for her, her mind was as gauntly wound as an iron trap, waiting to snap at any intrusive memories or phantasms. 

Sealed away in her rock hard skull, she relished in a memory before sleep took her, of her last time at a brothel. The master of the whores assumed she wanted women, as she had a manly demeanor, but she wanted a man, a pile of them, for her to be tightly enraptured in her sweat moist muscles, to pull out their virile essence. 

After sleeping under a blanket of spent, man muscle, she left without paying, as it was complimentary for the local sell sword guild who paid her for her sword arm. Larger than the rest of the men of her kind, she was often mistaken as a half-giant, comparable to a Borth, but without the lion’s skin. 

Truth was she was an orphan to the sea, stranded on a wreck, and thrown about to the whim of the waves, only finding any semblance of home on the sea. North, east, south, west, she sailed most of the sea, setting foot on many continents, having made allies and enemies spread across all of Ur-Earth. 

Truly hers was a life of freedom, for its good and ills. Sleep came over her, as her body leaned on the rudder, as the nightly gentle went on, till her small ship collided with something larger. Springing to her feet, she looked about, but everything was cast into a blinding shadow, pulling her ax out of its coverings, she leapt at the source of the shadow. 

She felt the hard wood of another vessel that towered over her, lifting herself up onto the deck of the intruding ship, she pounced on deck, spooking its crew as if they were startled cats. 

“Pray, for you may meet your God.” 

Sharp growls came from a man dressed in the captain’s attire of a desert man, dark ebony skin, sharp teeth, and eyes as dim as a dwoves. 

“You dare!” he boomed as he stomped down the stairs rousing his men to their feet. “Swordsmen, it is but a woman, let it not know that Tabullu’s men are afeared of a woman.” Whipping at them with a long, snapping leather strap, they jumped to their feet and in a rush came at the woman, who stood nearly twice their height. 

Spinning the ax in her sword arm, she brought it down fast and hard onto the skull of the closest of her attackers. Spilling brains from his cloven head, he fell back, not even having life enough to scream in pain before he went permanently still. 

Slashing outwards as the murderous crew were stunned at the deft deathblow, she slit the throats of several of the men in one slash, before she swung back, and completely decapitated the heads. 

Stumbling around as if they were chickens without heads, the men fell to their knees and collapsed onto the deck of the ship. Blood made the wood slick, and the men were unable to keep their sea legs sturdy as they slipped on the crimson spill. 

Without mercy, Breet hacked at the men, severing their limbs, cutting their vital veins, and ending their lives either by her ax, or stamping on their chest, collapsing their rib cages. Sharp snaps and crackles, followed by the sound of freely flowing blood came from that gruesome assault, and from that ferocity the men on the ship began to back away in fear. 

Lashing at their backs, Captain Tabullu eyes incensed in violent dismay, broke from the ranks of his men, and lunged at Breet with a spear. Lightly the tip of the exotic designed weapon scraped her chainmail under her breast, not even drawing a drop of blood. 

“Feeble lout!” she cursed as she grabbed the haft of the spear, and elbowed the dark skinned captain in the mouth, knocking loose several of his ivory teeth to the deck. Crying out in panic the captain tried to beg for mercy through the flow of blood coming from his mouth, but he couldn’t articulate the words to have his life spared. 

The blade of the ax dug deep into his chest, his eyes wild in shock, as he felt the sharpness slice open his heart, and from the wound after the ax was removed came an eruption of lifeblood. Whaling as if he were a languishing child, he fell to the dead, and coiled up readying for a near immediate death. 

“May Christ burn your wicked soul.” Breet spit on the face of the fallen captain, and as she turned she saw the crew throw aside their weapons, and take penitent poses. 

“Beg us mighty she-warrior, we are but slaves, bought for by our master, a pirate of terrible misdeeds. Please, we beg, forgive any trespass we may have had upon you, and take whatever is in our hold as payment for our lives.” the first mate pleaded with her, holding up his hands in prayer, as if she was some heathen God. 

“I don’t care to take your lives, but I will see what treasures you hold, as compensation for waking me so abruptly.” Rest her bloodied ax on her shoulder she was sure she wouldn’t need to slay any more of them, as they had obvious scarring on their backs, and wrists, typical of anyone trained to be a slave. 

No doubt she believed they’d sail away to some hospital shore and seek their fortune with new found freedom, since they have been liberated from a life of suffering by the hands of a pirate. 

The first mate led Breet to the captain’s quarters, inside was a trove of relics and plunder from realms as far as the edge of the sea. Golden totems, goblets adorned with rubies, sapphire, and emerald, all overfilling chests and leather bags. None of which immediately got Breet’s eye. Riches of gold and jewels were useless bulk to collect dust in her ship’s hold. She rather fruits, dried meats, and wine to save her the hassle of getting a fair price from merchants. 

Good iron, or better yet steel would suit her well enough, a warrior’s best friend is not the man at one’s side, but the weapon and a power to wield it with deadly precision. 

The further she went inside, all she took for herself was a basket of fruits, and a few sacs filled with wine. Not till she neared the deceased Captain’s bed did she see a sword of rare silver, golden-silver, a prized alloy made by the benevolent dwarves, before the Black Time. Picking up the sword, he saw the crimson gold, serrated edges of it, gleam in the lamp light of the cabin, and on its blade she saw narrow veins of crimson vibrating life throughout the blade. 

Engraved on its silver-steel haft was the crimson sun of Sol, and the golden moon of Luna, and as she held the sword by its grip made of polished pearl, she felt it send an empowering torrem throughout her body. 

“Indeed that is a worthy blade of such a warrior as yourself, the master called it Eclispra, he got it from the tombs of Gracia.” The first mate’s words were only half-listened to, as Breet marveled at her new sword. 

However she was not done with choosing her prizes, she saw something else in the corner of her eye, locked away in a cage, hidden under a veil of scarlet and gold. Pulling it off roughly, she saw in her dark emerald eyes a young woman, not quite fully grown, but had just finished her adolescence. 

Dressed in robe fineries of the highborn class, she could guess she was some lord’s daughter captured to be ransomed off. 

“Where did she come from?” Breet asked the first mate, as she began to undo the lock of the cage, as the woman inside looked at her with stunned silence at seeing the large, muscular women. 

“She was the only survivor of a ship our Master had us raid. We saw her set sail from Kaliph Island—” the first mate realized his confession but thought it best to tell the whole truth, less he risked the most likely deadly penalty for deceit. “—we waited for them to sail out into open water, then we raided the ship, killing all the men aboard.” 

“You are indeed fierce warriors.” mocked Breet. “You come upon a woman at her most vulnerable, truly you are a force to reckon with.” 

“She wasn’t alone.” the former slave defended as if his pride was wounded. “Granted there weren’t many, but she brought warriors with her.” 

“Enough to be outmatched by your numbers.” Breet ended the conversation with a stern look on her face. 

Freeing the woman, Breet had to restrain her with one arm, as she lashed out at the first mate, who backed away, fearing the former captive would claw out his eyes. 

“Come now, no need to dirty your pretty little hands.” Breet lifted her with little effort, and slumped the slim woman over her shoulder. 

Leaving the Captain’s quarters with her chosen prizes, she walked across the deck of the ship, with enough wine and provision to last her to her next stop. The rest of the crew gave her plenty of room to go to her ship, as they watched with fear in their eyes. All the while the woman she carried kicked at her chainmail shielded abs, in futile rage. 

“Kill them! Kill them all!” she cried. “They murdered my guardians!” The accusation was not something Breet intended to avenge, for it wasn’t her loss to account for without proper compensation.

“Then when you return home, you may hire the best sell swords to hunt them down, until then keep silent and behave.” Breet, having had enough with the hostages' futile tantrum, spanked her with her large hand. 

The embarrassment of being treated as a child made the young woman go silent, as she blushed and hid her face with shame. Leaping over the edge of the ship, Breet landed on the deck of her ship, and kicked it off from the larger vessel, allowing the waves to drift them away. 

Unfurrowing the sales, she hopes for a night breeze to come and lead her ship to the Kaliph Island, so she can collect the reward for saving the young woman. No doubt she will be gifted an arsenal of weaponry for her armory, and enough provisions to see her on further voyages. 

Till then she had to put up with the young woman, who immediately after recovering from the feeling of vertigo from the freefall of jumping to the lower ship, began to attack Breet with an oar. 

Jabbing her in the face with the end of the oar stung her eye, and made her roar in anger. Taking her newly gained sword in hand, the large she-warrior sliced through the oar with one vehement chop. Defenseless, the young woman backed away, fearful that she would be butchered by her new captor. 

“Stay away you savage cunt!” she bellowed at Breet, but she would not halt her deliberate approach. “I am Princess Jihmaya, and I will not be treated with such brutality.” 

Her words carried as much weight as a Breet as a bucket with no bottom. Taking her by her waist, Breet laid her across a barrel and with the ferocity of an enraged master to a slave, whacked her bottocks’ with the end piece of the oar that was chopped off. 

The night air was filled with the princess’s cries, as she was given the kind of harsh discipline no member of a royal family had ever suffered before—a bruised bottom and the fresh wound of humility on her formerly pristine pride. 

“I am your new guardian till we reach your father. If you ever cross me again between now and our arrival, I’ll have no qualms of missing out on my reward, and leaving you in the water.” Breet’s edict was understood, as the princess cried miserably at her failure. 

Throwing the oar onto the deck, Breet went to her place by the rudder. Putting her hands to the sky, she charted her course by the stars, using the distance between her forefinger and thumb to plot her course. 

After getting her bearings, she started drinking some of the pirate’s wine, and as she began to doze off, made sure to guide the ship in the proper direction. Keeping the rudder still with her weight, the she-warrior slumped over and slept, after being lulled by sweet wine, leaving the princess to weep all through the night. 

***

A day and a half of sailing, took the princess and seafaring warrior to their destination. Kaliph Island was an isolated landmass of half submerged mountain peaks, and malformed rocks. Seated on top of a large hill was the Sultan’s Palace. Argus Jihmaya was the ruler of the island, and oversaw the rule of the sea. 

Once Breet docked at the island’s harbor, she was meant with the sultan’s centurions who she told how she came into possession of the princess. 

Half-expecting the princess to scream out lies about how Breet was actually her kidnapper, she was surprised that she saw a dower look of submission on her face. Eyes darkened from crying, she was clearly ashamed to be brought home, she couldn’t even look into the captain’s eyes.

“You dishonor your father, and got many of my men killed. Princess—” the word seemed to come out as a bitter cough from the mouth of the captain. “—you are to be confined to your chambers under guard till your father bids otherwise.” 

Roughly the centurions took her by each of her arms, and half-carried her up the stairs into the palace’s lower gate. Then the captain turned his full attention to Breet. 

“I thank you for your rescue of her, even if it was for a reward, it is still a nobler deed than most would do.” he bowed his head to her. “As for your prize I can only take you to my sultan, but rest assured he is a generous master…even in these troubling times.” 

Leading the way, the captain escorted Breet into the front gate of the rocky island, into a chamber filled with lit braziers, and shining polished marble columns. Archways of polished amber, and many divergent hallways and stairways, lead to different masterfully constructed chambers, and halls dug throughout the mountains and hills. 

Escorted through a market square, where many of the island's denizens did trade for foodstuff such as fish and fruit, and rare fabrics for clothing. The glittering sight of coins passing hands, was enough to draw the eye of Breet, being lured by her primitive instinct for shiny metals—but the interest was short lived. 

Taking the private stairway, she was led up several staircases, till they emerged on the outside again, hundreds of feet in the air. Overlooking the sea for miles in all directions, she could see the distant shores of island continents, and the sail of ships, sailing across the Eclipsed Sea. 

The captain smiled as he looked out into the deep sapphire waters. “I’ve seen sailors brought to tears at such a sight.” 

“I am not one of them.” Breet replied, as she turned her eyes away, having her fill at seeing places she had no wish to visit, and the pitiless wastes she calls the sea. 

“You see no beauty in such things.” commented the captain, but he saw his words didn’t rouse Breet to defend her crass disinterest in the scenery. “Perhaps it is gold that catches your eye.” 

“No more than I care it to.” Breet countered, facing the captain with a cold indifference to the man’s prying into the motives behind her actions. “Unless it is in the hilt of a sword, or an edge of a spear, gold is only good when used as armaments, and if this Sultan wishes to bestow such a prize, it better be something I can use, and not use simply for a means to barter.” 

With that the both headed towards the palace gates. High on top of the stone hill, the palace was chiseled from the peak of a mountain. The sturdy stone was carved and polished till it glinted in the sunlight. Designed as if it were a cathedral from the lands of Sol, its dome ceilings glittered as if they were made of gold. The symbol of the star was affixed to the top of the largest dome of the main structure, and each of its towers. Approaching the massive, stone gates, she was met with an entourage of soldiers dressed in raiment denoting their high position in the court. 

“She has rescued the princess.” informed the captain. “And she wishes to discuss with the sultan what reward would be appropriate.”

The head guard looked over Breet, scanning from her sandals to her sturdy head. Once he finished gauging her size, he pointed to the sword staggered to her waist. 

“That much be confiscated, if she wishes to see the sultan.”

Breet did not want to be parted with Eclispra, she wrapped it with a fur hide, and tied it with a narrow rope, to cover its sharp, serrated edges. 

“I will not part with my sword.” Breet did not relent with being parted with her newly gained sword of such rarity, but to be left unarmed in the house of a powerful figure was too much of a risk. She has been put in such positions before, and it was much harder to fight her way out without a weapon ready at hand. 

“You will not see the sultan, and forfeit your reward if you do not.” the head guard stated, believing he had her trapped into consenting to his order, he was shocked to hear her say;

“If those are my choices, I will not see the sultan.” turning about she was about to head back to her ship, but was blocked off by guards, who pointed their spears at her. 

Swiftly she freed her sword from its bindings, and was about to test the blade in its first battle, but was stopped by the captain standing between her and the guards. 

“Stop!” His words carried the urgency and authority of the captain of the centurions, his eyes were firmly opposed to any fighting. He didn’t break his glare at Breet till she reluctantly rewrapped her sword, and replaced it on her side. Then he turned his eyes to the head guard, whose eyes darted away, giving away his unwillingness to challenge the captain’s willpower. 

“I will ask the sultan if he would grant an audience to our guest while she is armed. I trust neither of you will deliver the first strike, nor antagonize the other into violence.” The captain’s words were emboldened by the faltering resolve of those at the gate. So his words became prophecy, as he entered through the opened stone gates, sought permission from Sultan Argus, and returned to find no bloodshed had happened. 

“The sultan has agreed to allow Breet an audience with her sword. I told him that I trust she is of no danger if she isn’t provoked.” The captain’s words made the guards reluctantly obey. Chaperoning Breet with the captain at her side, it was obvious to the servants and denizens of the palace she was of someone of importance. 

Rumor spread fast about her, and many speculated if the sultan desired her skills, as she might just be what was needed to break the curse that has plagued the House Of Jihmaya.

As the people in the palace grounds whispered, they were conscious of the ever presence rumbling in the dungeons beneath the palace. The growing peril beneath their feet would engulf them all one day, if they couldn’t lift the accursed affliction that would bring their realm to ruin. 

***

The sultan was a magnanimous man, who not only offered Breet, her fill of delicious fish dishes, but also rare platters of vegetables and fruits. Wine was also delicious, far better than what she got from the pirates. It was a light blue, and went down smoothly, and didn’t upset her stomach from over indulgence, in fact it seemed to ease any discomfort in her body. 

“I am glad you were able to come for dinner.” the sultan's kind eyes beamed with generosity, as he piled on fish meat, and delicious fruits onto her plate, acting as if he was her servant. “Since I heard about you from my attendants, I have been struck by an idea, one that can solve my dilemma, and make you wealthy.” 

“I just want more wine and provisions.” Breet countered in an apathetic way. Her words didn’t faze the sultan, as a foxy gleam appeared in his eyes, as his guards stood closely around the table, ready for any call to arms. 

Gesturing to his protectors, Sultan Argus did not want to instigate any aggression against the she-warrior, instead he wanted to endear herself to him through favors. Bribing her with food and wine, he hoped to bribe her to partake in a perilous mission, one she is uniquely capable of having a chance at success. 

“You shall have that, and anything else you desire…if you are willing to do one more service for the Island of Kaliph.” the sultan saw those dark emerald eyes look upon him, a fierce coldness came over her, as if he altered a wolf as he trespassed in its den. “Please, let me show you something.” 

Rising up, the sultan was pleased she followed suit, but she kept her sword tightly in her grasp, as they went from the dining chamber, with the sultan’s personal guard in as an entourage. 

Breet was led into a hallway, where the walls were adorned with ornamental weapons, tapestries depicting fishing boats, and humongous war ships of some past era. Till they came to a statue of a Sphinx, an ancient animal, with the face of a gorgeous woman, but the body of a lioness with eagle wings. 

Inserting a key that hung around his neck from the chain, the sultan, revealed a staircase leading into the vaults under the palace. Protected by the strongest of marble stone walls, it was only accessed by the sultan’s key, as it was an enchantment made by the ancient dwarves of legend, or so the sultan claims. 

“Come.” the sultan beckoned. “There is much I must show you, and time is fleeting.” Torch at hand, the sultan led the guards and she-warrior into the sacred places of his home. The way closed shut behind them, deepening the darkness, as a weird presence seemed to fill the stale hair. 

At the bottom of the marble stairs, they came to a gigantic chamber, with bars on the far wall, and incense burners placed strategically around the floor. Heavy blueish smoke wafted into the air, and among the silent burning, and the quiet prayer of blue robed priests, there was a sound of unmistakable snoring. 

Not from a bear, or a huge beast, but from a creature thought dead since the Black Time. Through the bars Breet saw, slumbering in a large chamber of stone, a dragon with bitch black scales, and toxic fumes flowing from its nostrils. Next to the dragon, weeping softly was the princess Breet rescued from the pirates, her face frozen in a soft sorrowful expression. 

“My daughter can’t bear to let her sister suffer alone.” The sultan had a father’s grief in his eyes. “Ankezê thought she could do the task that men couldn’t, to save poor Kezêna from her curse.” 

“I’ve heard stories of magicians and wizards, casting enchantments that can turn blood to wine, and men into pigs, but a dragon?” Breet watched the dragon being lulled into a dreamless slumber by the incense she breathed with each breath. 

A grinding hatred grinded in the sultan’s throat. “Judas Khan, he had his witches put a curse on my poor daughter. She is betrothed to the first prince of Tyres to the south. The marriage was supposed to usher in peace between our two houses, but Judas wishing war in the region turned my eldest daughter into this beast.” 

“Who is this wizard you speak of that can turn women into dragons?” Breet had never heard of the likes of Judas Khan before, considering such a mastery of magic. 

“He is no wizard, but a fiend, a worshiper of Cancer, and has sway over that blasphemous evil. He is a warlord and pirate, his men terrorized these regions for decades, all from his domain the Hidden Kingdom, a place only he can find, the accursed fiend.” Anger grew into impudent rage, as the sultan lashed out at empty air. “If war broke out between us and the south, the resulting bedlam would give him and his corsairs more opportunities to plunder unchallenged across the sea.”

Bitterness was heavy in the incensed laced air, and despite the melodrama that made even the sultan’s guards nervous as their master fell into further turmoil. 

“What does that have to do with me?” Breet’s crassness had the guard’s faces livid with anger, as the head guard wanted to pull his sword to challenge such disrespect—but the sultan gestured for him to stay still. 

“My alchemists have studied such a curse, it is not one done by channeling the ethereal web, but by poisons and elixirs. I believe she was poisoned by an infiltrator during one banquet, a failure that had seen my former head of guard’s slain by his own hand, for shame. I do not wish to think of that terrible moment, but know this, on an island to the east, a day or so travels away—there is an island that can give salvation to my daughter, and mend the divide between us and the Tyre dynasty.”

Breet listened, but wouldn’t be swayed by emotion if the task was too treacherous, and the reward didn’t match the risk involved. 

“I’ll listen to what you may need, and what you offer, but I promise nothing.” The sultan seemed pleased with that response and continued to tell of his woes. ‘

“The cure requires elements that we have access to, but one, the most important one. The heart of a succubus, and there is only one that we know of—on Stone Isle is a towering necropolis, Christ’s Tomb.” the atmosphere in the chamber darkened, as if the sultan uttered the name of a foul spirit. “Deep in the caverns is where the Seductress of Eibon makes her lair, an evil she-devil that should’ve been expunged from the world when the dwarves fell into darkness.” 

Breet listened, and so far she didn’t completely disallow the notion of her rendering aid, but she needed to know certain things. 

“Why not send your own men, why hire me?” Breet wasn’t going to take on any job that could be left better off in the hands of others. 

“I have sent many of the champions who have sworn to fight till death for my glory, each one took dozens of our best warriors. Three champions, three sets of elite fighters…only a few returned each time, and precious were sane enough to tell us the dangers of the Seductress. You see, the succubus has powers over men, she can drive them insane with lust, or bend them to her, twisting them into monstrous slaves. Each champion armed with the knowledge of the previous one’s failure tried a multitude of methods—none succeeded. However my wise men say, women are immune to the Seductresses’ influence, and one skilled at fighting would be able to slay the creature, where men have failed. Ankezê thought she could do this.”

The sultan went quiet, his thoughts betrayed by the expression on his face, the look of a father partially ashamed of his daughter for her reckless actions. Though there was pride in her actions, she was too naïve and weak to have done anything but get kidnapped or worse.  

Then a growing gloom came upon them, as the sultan’s torch began to die down, so gestured Breet to follow him to an adjacent passage. At the far end were a pair of iron doors, of bizarrely intricate detail, and a crimson cross of the church at its center. 

Pulling it open the sultan revealed a nearly blinding light of shimmering treasure, gold, gems, and weapons that no one had seen since the fall of the dwarves. 

Dwarf swords, axes, spears, and shields, of the rarest of golden steel, the greatest known to the world. Truly it was an armory fit for the greatest kingdoms of the realm. 

“Behold the wealth of the Island Of Kaliph, whatever you can fit on your ship is yours, if you get me the she-devil’s heart, with haste.” 

Breet was mesmerized with the weapons she saw, just one weapon of dwarf craft would see her for the rest of her life. The heft of the steel, the pristine sharpness of the blade, the weapons were made to outlast the world. Before she became too covetous with her promised reward, the door was closed, and darkness came to her vision again. 

“I’ll do it, for my choice of weapons there.” the she-warrior said, as the sultan with a hopeful smile, guided her away to make preparations for her voyage. 

***

Dawn the next day, Breet was sailing on the sultan’s fastest ship, the Compass. A glorious vessel with sails of gleaming silver, the standard of the island flowing in the wind, and a crew of forty strong warriors, coming along to see the mission is a success. 

“The wind will take us there by nightfall.” estimated the ship’s captain as he consulted the charts with his first mate at his side. “I sailed the other of the sultan’s champions on this quest—” the captain looked at Breet as he charted the course. “—I pray this will be the last voyage to that vile place.” 

“We’ll see.” Breet did not care for the assumptions placed on her as if the burden of success was hers alone. However the more she thought about it, the more she came to accept that the task of actually slaying the creature was all on her head. No men could provide her with back up, they would be enthralled to the creature, becoming one of its slaves. 

Such monsters Breet had faced before, but never in such a direct and dire way, luck and skill was on her side each time. Nothing was more ponderously unknowable than the creatures of Cancer, an unholy antithesis to the order of the world. 

Vulnerable to certain steel, Breet was fortunate the sultan saw her well armed. A gold dwarf ax, and spear to aid her in the fight, and of course Eclispra. The sword the sultan’s wise man inspected and although its origin was unknown, he was sure it would harm the Seductress as it had the poison to Cancer, flowing through its blade. 

Practicing her fighting poses on deck, as the wind carried nothing but the salt of the sea on its breeze, the voyage was uneventful. Breet spent her time training, strategizing, or resting, she stayed away from wine and stuck with water, as she didn’t want to be too drunk to fight. 

As the evening came, the wise man the sultan set came to Breet in her cabin, and placed down on the table various maps, and charts of Stone Island. 

“We’ll moor here.” the wise man pointed to a beach to the south of the island. “From there you’ll be rowed ashore. From there only three others will accompany you. Me (Tilliesce), Acrol, and Tyfrön. We’ll guide you to the acropolis, by taking the underground caves. Be warned that these tunnels are not without their dangers. Sink pits, snakes, and insects the size of men make these places their home. I guided the last three champions through the safest route as I will do you, bear this in mind, that this island has a gate to hell itself, so don’t speak profane unless you summon the denizens of the Labyrinth.” 

Listening carefully, Breet heeded what she was told, and intended to keep a sword ready at her side at all times. For if there was one thing that made her blood run cold, and tested her courage was insects of large size, particularly spiders. Nightmares plagued her in her youth, before she’d lull herself to sleep with wine, about her being attacked, bundled up, and devoured by a gigantic spider. 

Such terrors still torment her at the back of her mind, when she is idle for too long. 

“I’ll not allow fear go unchallenged, for nothing dispels the figments of terror than a weapon at your side.” 

Soon the ship moored, and everyone who would join the party ashore was up on deck, in the fading twilight and darkening skies, the waning moon cast light on the black, rocky island. Stone Island was unnerving to look upon, hateful vibrations came off shore and shook the courage of all moored in the water. 

“Courage.” Tyfrön told his men, holding up his spear in defiance. “Man is truly lost if our courage wanes in the face of absolute evil.” 

Taking comfort in the warrior’s brave words, the men went to the rowboat, and soon made landfall on the show. The rowers stayed with the boat, as the party of four went on foot to the obelisk tower that was rising from the distance. 

“Cautious, these rocks are slick with Cancerous oil, it’ll make you lose your footing on perilous edges if you aren’t cautious.” Tilliesce’s words were soon proven true, as Acrol, a sure footed warrior slipped on a slick piece of rock, and fell face first onto the hard rock ground. After a sharp cry, the man was silent. 

Tyfrön went to his side, and felt only stillness in his veins. “He’s dead.” the statement carved their way out of his throat, and were uttered as an ill omen. “I’ll take him back to the boat, you two go ahead, I’ll join you soon.” 

The wise man and she-warrior went up the steep slope of the shore, and as they carefully tested the ground with each step, they were relieved when the moonlight guided them to the opening of a cave. 

“Truly Jesus is on our side, that is the cave we seek.” going towards it, Breet lit an oil lamp to light their way. Dispelling the darkness inside, she could see the crawling of centipedes on the wall, as big as piglets, scampering away from the light. Her skin crawled and she hoped the sensation wasn’t that of one crawling on her skin. 

“Here comes Tyfrön.” the wise man said, as he saw him approach them. 

“The men were disheartened to hear we lost one of our numbers already.” the warrior sounded as if he dropped a cake on the floor. 

“Let’s not tempt fate with such words.” Breet was nervous going into the cave, and was relieved when Tyfrön and Tilliesce took point. Bringing up the rear, Breet raised the lamp high enough to burn away as much of the darkness as possible, as her other hand rested on the pommel of her sword. 

Deeper they went, the more ghastly and complex the cave became, distorted visages of monsters were twisted into existence by the dance of light and shadow. The echo of an ancient haunting could be heard in quieted sounds, trying to drive the living mad. 

More centipedes, and other crawlers dug around the walls, fitting into crevices into the walls, and holes in the ground. 

Finally their trek took them to a large cavern, with a spire of rick in its center, and a deep pit below, the light lit up more of it, Breet felt her heart skip a beat. 

“Something is up there.” she brought the lamp higher, and her breath came out as a sharp, whimpering cry. 

A spider! A gigantic one as pale as a death shroud, and eyes as a gleaming pearl. Without any doubt Breet knew the spider was aware of them, its fangs were dripping with venomous saliva, it was hungry. 

“This beast wasn’t here before.” Tyfrön said aloud as he rose in spear in defense against the motionless arachnid. 

“I fear our past travels to this island alerted its dark masters. This has been placed in our way to ward us off, or destroy us.” the wise man studied the unflinching spider, as it dangled from its web that it strewn about the cavern’s ceiling. “If it comes for me, I trust you’ll come to my rescue.” the wise man frightfully looked for an affirmative nod from his two companions, as he began up the slope. 

The way ahead was a gateway, built into the stone, it was wide open, and would lead to a stream that would lead them out of the cavern. 

However this thing was aware of them, and was deceptively swift, as before the wise men could get to the gateway, and as he got far enough from his comrades, the spider bounced! 

Crying out in despair, Tilliesce screamed out “Help!” as he felt the many limbs of the beast try to entomb him in its web. 

With a vindictive cry of war, Tyfrön rushed forward and planted the tip of his spear into the back of the spider. It recoiled from the stab, and danced around, trying to face its attacker, as it thrashed about with its rock crushing limbs. 

Breet, struggling with her fear, came up alongside Tyfrön aiming her own spear. The men weren’t sure if she was paralyzed with fear or was waiting for the right moment to strike—but all doubt left their minds as the spider reared about and the she-warrior launched her spear into one of its eyes. 

Losing strength in its legs, the cancerous mutant tried to grab onto the two warriors, but was fought back by Breet’s ax, which she used to rapidly hack at the spider’s legs. 

After the spider guarded itself with its forelegs, the furious slices of the dwarf weapon had burned deep into the arachnoid's carapace, and exposed its bubbling ichor. Hisses echoed as the lifeblood of the spider mixed with the air of the cave, as it began to lose strength to stand. Without mercy, terror and rage mingled in the she-warrior into a fury that came upon the spider with the power of a hurricane on a straw hut. 

Ripping Eclispra from its bindings, she swung with both arms armed with ax and sword, spilling the shimmering green ichor all about, as she brutalized the spider, till the life blackened in its eyes. Letting out a gurgling groan, the arachnid perished, as Breet stood over it, her fur and chainmail outfit stained with its gooey ichor. 

Screaming a final violent cry at the arachnid, her war cry echoed in the caves, startling its inhabitants for miles around. Both her and Tyfrön retrieved their spears from the soggy body, and went to free Tilliesce from his half-formed cocoon—but he was silent, and a deathly blueness came over his skin. 

On his upper torso there were deep puncture wounds that leaked with piteous black venom.
Again Tyfrön had to speak aloud the terrible truth. “He’s dead. The venom strangled his heart.” Not willing to leave his old tutor to rest in that wretched place, he headed back lighting a lamp on his own. Turning to Breet with a solemn expression of regret, “I have to return him to the boat. I do not wish to travel with you further, there has been too much death for me to keep my spirit. Not just them, but…I was with the last champion, and I fear I have expended my courage.” Pointing to the cave ahead, above the rise. “Tilliesce said the passage there will lead you out, just follow the stream, and you’ll see the obelisk. I’ll pray for your success.” 

“Pray at least there is someone to bring my body back.” not appreciating the cowardice of her comrade, Breet replaced her weapons in their holsters, lifted her lamp once more, and headed onward, to continue the mission. 

Through the cave opening, she felt her sandals get immediately wet with icy cold water. Following the flow, she saw the light of the moon soon through an opening in the rock. Walking out she was outside again, and towering over everything on the island, was a towering obelisk that remained pristinely pitch black, even in the moonlight. 

Leaving behind the Cave Of Tears, she approached Christ’s Tomb, a profane, defiled place that had the symbol of the ivory moon above on top of the obelisk. Rising as if it were a finger of the devil, the obelisk was formed on top of a steep hill rise, and at the bottom of the hill was a gateway. 

Open to all who wished to trespass into their doom, Breet held her lamp high, and to be safe drew out her ax, hoping a good weapon will once again save her life, from the evils within. 

***

Formerly the sea of power to an old king, the place called Christ’s Tomb, used to be a palace of great magnificence. Considered hallowed ground, no one dared invade, leaving the king to be free to give into his greed and hostile vices. 

Slaying the neighbors to the south, so consistently, he drowned their rivers in blood, and rusted their mines of metal. Gathering a grand treasure hold of gold, religious relics, and gemstones, the king forsake his human title, and took upon his head a towering grown of gold and gemstones. 

Calling himself the Gold Pontiff, he associated himself akin to God, and in his pride he claimed that Christ himself died. No more was Christ’s Tomb a place where the metaphorical Christ body was laid, it was a literal graveyard, an acropolis that began to lure in the evils beneath the ground. 

Miners under the king’s service dug deep, through bedrock and slate, they punctured through barriers of protection, inadvertently opening a portal to Hell, the Stagnant Labyrinth. 

Spirits of doom, demons of stagnation, and avatars of Cancer came to surface, driving the people of the palace to become mutated by cancer or flee in terror. 

The Gold Pontiff stayed in the tallest chamber of the obelisk, surrounded by his gold and mounting sins; he had a brief moment of sanity some scholars claim. Unable to flee from his chamber due to fear of the demons prowling his palace, he stayed, until death took him, and his spirit remained a hostage to his cancerous body. 

Dead subjects still roam the halls, along with the evil spirits, and demons who are all twisted by the powers of Cancer. Also in the main entryway of the chamber is an icon of the twisting powers of the Stagnant Labyrinth. Black oil of their crab God, had malformed the statue of Christ on the Cross into that of the Niger Christ. 

A lesser form true, but has the power of awareness, and permeates a vindictive aura, that disheartens the virtuous and cajoles the believers of Cancer to its will. 

Deep within the translucent darkness of the acropolis, evil enraptured evil. 

Psalm 34:16

The face of the Lord is against evildoers,

To cut off the memory of them from the earth.

***

Breet found the lamp was useless in the darkness of the cavernous insides of the well furnished acropolis. All about were worn, almost ancient furniture and furnishing of great expense, before they were left to rot to time and cancerous darkness. 

Smell of dank sewage was ever present, as she roamed through the halls, trying to navigate her way through the labyrinth of passages, and distorted reality. Darkness seemed to twist about beyond her vision, making it harder to tell which was the real way, or an eternal loop. 

As she passed through the darkness, she found her lamp hampered her sight more than it helped, somehow the darkness made everything eerily visible. Dousing the lamp she found she could see everything almost as well as it was in the daylight, and she saw one beacon of pale, white light off in the distance. Across a bridge of stone and tarnished gold she came to a hallway, overlooking a descent in the floor. 

On the walls were pagan symbols and tribute to death, as if it glorified it in some unholy reference. Under the beam of light, Breet saw it, the black, still body of the Oily Messiah, the Niger Christ. Above his head was the symbol of the Church Of Cancer, the infinity symbol. 

Drawn to the profane icon, she couldn't help but feel a horrific reverence for the dark figure.

Speaking no words, it seemed to impress upon her the ideals of its covenant, to make one eternal, even if one was to be unmade into the bestiality of the chaotic past. For in the purity of simplicity, one found survivability and everlasting existence, without compromise or change. 

“You speak dark thoughts into my mind, specter.” Breet was awed by the presence of such evil. “I feel you alter my mind, to have joined your kingdom of darkness, is this the thoughts of men?” Whether if she was of steely nerves or blessed with the womanly foresight of change and growth, she rebuked the stagnation offered by the dark christ. 

Putting her ax away, she drew forth Eclispra and as she felt the veins in the sword come alight with some kind akin to loathing, she felt her eyes come alight with fire. Intertwining her hands around the grip of the sword, she felt a new voice speak to her, one of evolution at the cost of all else. Devour had taken over her, the power of consumption of the weak, of reckless change, and the domination of all those petty and stuck in stagnation. 

“To blazes with you!” she cried out, possessed by this new power, and struck at the Niger Christ. The sword cut deep into the totem’s size, and from it flowed the sticky ichor of cancerous blood. As black as the oil of the crab, it flowed slowly to the ground, and from the spilling of its lifeblood, came the fading of the influence of cancer in the chambers of stone. Darkness deepened as the light above the Niger Christ’s head distinguished, and a true, natural darkness returned, as the Stagnant Labyrinth retreated from the surface of Stone Island. 

One day it might return, but Breet had the notion it wouldn’t be in her lifetime. Blinded by the new darkness, Breet pulled out her oil lamp, and brought sight back to the darkness. 

The air was less bitter, and only the cold stale air of the unlit chambers was left in the atmosphere—that and the presence of a distorted evilness that she could feel further ahead. 

Following the flows of wickedness, Breet came across the still bodies of the dead, their hollow eyes vacant of life, but occupied by nesting insects. Crushing a skull that housed a spider’s nest under her foot, Breet followed the lamp light, and her senses to the doors of a sealed chamber. 

To the left of the door was a skeletal sentry, one wearing a towering crown of tarnished gold, and filthy gemstones, wearing the ceremony robes of a holy king. Despite being inanimate, the skeleton seemed possessed by the spirit of the dead, bones were black with the presence of Cancer, and had the unmistakable signs of cancerous mutation. 

Bones lengthened, bony hands turned to claws, and a permanent scowling expression was formed on the skull. 

Kicking aside the skeletal body, Breet opened the door to the chamber, hearing the unmistakable slither of a humongous entity from within. 

Holding Eclispra in a ready to strike poise, she entered the chamber, and as the light of her lantern lit up the darkness she saw—nothing. 

The chamber had a floor covered in blackened gold coins, and baubles of great wealth from the ancient world. On the walls were mosaic murals of stone and gold, depicting the glory of the king of old. The Golden Pontiff, whose empire seemed to stretch beyond the island, to lands not seen in eons. Walking further in, she was prepared to lower her guard, she knew the evil was inside—she could smell the evil succubus’s pheromones in the air. Just as Breet descended the short stairway, the doors shut firmly closed behind her, and she heard something as if the doors were being barred shut. 

Through the narrow slits in the chamber, she saw outside the dark form of a skeletal figure running away, as if fleeing from any repercussions of its misdeeds. 

Then came a rumbling, the treasure shifted on the floor, and from it came a rising form, as if a leviathan was submerging from the depths of the sea. The head breached first, a shadow face of darkness and flame, as the gigantic snake body of a twisty, serpentine leviathan towered over Breet. 

Chest covered with clawed arms, the Seductress Of Eibon revealed herself, lowering her gigantic form, she examined the trespasser, and a menacing hiss escaped her ghostly maw. 

“Foolish bitch, leave my domain, I have no use for such a disgusting thing.” she was about to lash out with her tail, which was dipped in molten black gold, but recoiled as Breet raised her lantern. 

Hissing loudly, the succubus was blinded momentarily by the light, and that gave Breet the chance to strike at her unprotected belly. 

The greenish gold underbelly split open from the edge of Breet’s sword, Eclispra thrummed in her grasp as she dug into the she-devil’s flesh. Spilling ichorous green blood, the she-devil squealed and tried to retreat but was stunned by the furious onslaught of the she-warrior. 

Breet dropped her lamp and heaved her serrated sword into and across the body of the serpentine body of the Seductress. Again and redoubled she hewn pieces of flesh aside, to dig deep into the sensitive innards of the snake she-beast, as her bones started to be exposed from the onslaught. 

Desperate for escape, the succubus filled the chamber with her intoxicating scent, the allure that put many male champions to their doom. The male enslaving fragrance did nothing but disgust Breet, which made her more furious as she screamed in vindictive rage, as she tore into the she-demon, who was vulnerable to such steel. 

The Blade Of Eclispra savored every drop of suffering from the cancerous fiend, and was driving the fervor within Breet to increase her stamina and strength to feed its growing gluttony. 

Contorting to the burning sensation, flowing through its blood, the succubus tried to appeal to Breet’s sense of feminine mercy. 

“Please, spare me, I…I don’t wish to suffer…please…please.” speaking as Breet continuously hacked at her lower serpentine body. 

Despite her insistence the succubus couldn’t muster the strength to fight back, and only languished in the suffering, as her spinal column was severed in two, splitting her from her lower half. 

The lower serpent body writhed till it went still as the wound leaked the greenish ichor all over the blackened gold, slowly sinking into the horde. 

Crawling away, the succubus cursed Breet as it tried to dig into the treasure to escape, but Breet grabbed her lower torso and pulled her out, flinging her onto the hard stone ground. 

“Vile cunt!” snarled Breet as she approached the succubus, murder in her eye, to slay the foul monster of despair. 

“No, no!” The Seductress seemed to speak from another mouth, hidden behind her guarding arms.

Slicing off her arms with two merciless slashes, Breet flung the severed limbs aside to reveal the innermost part of the she-devil, her heart. 

A face attached by pulsating veins, and narrow nerve endings, the face of a feminine man was there, one that had allowed himself to be lifted from the darkness into a state of near-permanence existence. 

The Heart Of Lust was exposed, and the face despite the agony of its host was smiling, with a princely allure in his eyes. 

“I welcome you my fair maiden.” the heart’s words would’ve made Breet swoon if the sword didn’t keep her bloodlust frothing in her veins. “Put aside that sword, and allow me to embrace you.” the heart suggested, arms of the succubus regenerated themselves, as they prepared to embrace the she-warrior. 

Temptation was high, she was always weak to the allure of pretty men, ones who could tenderly dominate with her muscular form. In the eyes of the heart she saw acceptance and longing for a strong female mate, wanting she touched the heart’s lips—then something sent a soaring, seething agony throughout her body. 

Veins red hot with blinding fury, she couldn’t help but be taken in by the hatred building in her chest, causing her body to swell with a rage that made her bleed, burning tears of crimson. 

Letting out a futile scream, she plunged Eclispra and felt a flood of cancerous ichor drench her body, but that didn’t stop her from stabbing, sawing, and dismembering the organ. 

Once she was done slicing bloody flesh, she discarded the sword to plunge her hands into the chest of the Seductress, and with a mighty heave, pulled free the still pulsating heart, raising it over her head as if to offer it to the Gods Of Devour. 

Her violent screams continued as cancerous blood dripped onto her head, flowing down her face, as she couldn’t stop but scream louder and more vengefully, as it echoed through the halls of the acropolis. 

***

Dawn was close and Tyfrön was waiting by the rowboat with the other men and two corpses, waiting for signs of the she-warrior to come towards them in the purpling dawn. 

“There!” cried one of the men, as he pointed out a moving silhouette across the forsaken rock—it was Breet, her body soaked with water, with the unmistakable stench of cancer on her body. At her side she carried a bundle of still bleeding flesh, that spooked the men, as it still pulsated. 

“Is that the heart?” Tyfrön brought a lantern light, and indeed he saw in the lamplight a writhing blackish heart, that bore no semblance to any princely face. “Come put it in this bag.” 

Breet silently did so, and as the heart was secure, the men and woman boarded the rowboat and rowed back to the moored Compass, with news of success. A cheer came up from the crew, as they set sail for home in the light of a new dawn. 

***

The sultan’s alchemists made a cure for the princess Kezêna with the potion they concocted with the heart. In moments after the brew was poured into the dragon’s mouth, the ghastly dragon body melted away into smoke, and what was left was a frail body princess with eyes of gleaming silver. 

Grateful beyond measure, Sultan Argus Jihmaya  declared a celebration, and ordered a celebration to put all others to shame. A circus, the best of food and wine on offer in a smörgåsbord that would feed most cities for years. The neighboring nations were invited to enjoy their hospitality, and the Tyres royal family were invited also, to celebrate and for the prince of their house to finally marry the sultan’s daughter, thus cementing their alliance. 

To Breet, the champion of the victory, he tried to offer he wealth, title, and whatever in his power to grant—but she only took a dwarf axe, spear, and as much food and wine her ship could hold. 

“Why leave? I can make your name spread all across the channels of the Eclipsed Sea, as the bravest of all female warriors, even men would envy you for your feats." The offer held no temptation for Breet. Long before meeting the sultan she had her joys in life, a ship free to sail, the wine she could drink, and weapons to defend herself.

True the sultans dwarf armory was a golden prize that once swayed her to his aid, but after matching Eclispra against the powers of Cancer, she saw little use for other weapons. Keeping only the weapons to take with her to Stone Island, she decided it best to leave before the guests arrived, even despite the sultan’s insistence. 

“But my daughter wants to thank her savior.” the sultan pleaded as he followed her to her ship, as she prepared to cast off. 

“I am not bound to the gratitude of others.” Breet was blunt, but her sternness grew on the sultan who could use such a voice in his court. 

“I implore you one last time, would you stay with us? I truly need a woman of such skill in my service.” The sultan was met by her eyes and in them she saw a finality that eclipsed his entirety of his hopes of retaining the she-warrior. 

“I cannot be free to follow my own judgment if I am at the service of others. Take what good fortune I brought to you, and hold it dear, for you may not be able to call upon me again.” with that the she-warrior sailed off, and with the strong winds carried her off into the distance before the sultan had a chance to blink. 

The princesses joined their father at the dock, with disheartened looks on their faces as they couldn’t at least say farewell to Breet before she sailed off. 

“I hoped to have seen it just once.” sullenly spoke Kezêna, as her sister rubbed her arms in sympathy. 

“She is a brass woman, and roguish as a male sell sword.'' The other princess tried to hide her scowl, as she was still sore from the rough spanking she was given. 

“Perhaps she is just what a free woman is.” the sultan spoke softly, as he took his daughters back into the palace to prepare for the celebration.