Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 22

"ATTEN-SHUN!"

Simultaneously, all eight recruits snapped their heels together and clapped their hands to their sides.

"Do NOT look at me," Yung admonished as he walked past them. "Look straight ahead and ignore everything around you. When you are given a weapon to carry, you will learn how to stand while holding that weapon. For now, those arms stay straight and those hands stay flat at your sides."

He came around to stand behind them, daring someone to move. Speaking from where they couldn't see him, he began to explain more terms they would have to know and how they should react to them.

Zhair'lo tried to hold it all in his head but there was a nagging voice in there, too, demanding to know the point of this tedium. A rebellious part of him wanted to shout, 'Fuck this!' and walk out, but he was able to restrain himself for two reasons. The first was that all of this nonsense might, somehow, be an integral part of what made a man into a Fighter. He'd done a lot of seemingly stupid things while learning a lot of different vocations, but everything always came together at the end. Every weird exercise or mental task ended up being relevant. The other thing that kept him in place, his spine straight as a rod, was the fact that this was the shortest path to reaching whatever enemies the Temple regarded as its most dangerous.

Holding a smirk inside, he wondered if the Temple realized its most dangerous enemies were really on the inside.

It occurred to him, standing there in the sun, unfed since the send-off dinner at Lyric's Camp the night before, to think of the two Fighters who watched over the recruits last night, while Sergeant Yung had gone to get Z'rus. They had stood still, just like this, patiently waiting and alertly surveying their surroundings.

'Calmness under physical duress does matter, doesn't it?' he thought.

"Fall ... in!" Sergeant Yung called out. "The mess hall is the building on your left. You have half a bell to eat before you return here. Enjoy."

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

The Goddess of Gern rubbed her eyes at the sun that slanted in past the black curtains in her bedroom. Sleeping on her side did not agree with her as it always left her shoulder sore. Somehow, the eleven upgrades she held in Strength, alongside the eleven from Iron, utterly failed to alleviate this problem.

Yet, with a uterus full of baby-to-be, sleeping on her back had ceased to be an option weeks ago.

'Won't be long now,' she kept telling herself.

At thirty-five, however, this pregnancy was a lot more difficult than her previous two. There were the Perfections to make the ordeal easier - and the attendants from Pussy who dutifully arranged black-cloth pillows multiple times per night. But she was old, and probably not long for the world once this child was birthed.

Perfections weighed heavily on a body, more so even than pregnancies.

With a sigh, she acknowledged that she was done sleeping and hoisted herself out of bed.

As bare feet touched cold, black marble, the attendants from Pussy appeared out of nowhere. They were young women with fresh bodies, naked to match the nudity in which she slept. They placed her loose, black robe around her shoulders and led her to the bathroom.

"Is your Mistress here?" she asked as she waddled.

"Yes, Imminence," one responded.

One of the other benefits of being pregnant as a Goddess was the closeness of the facilities. Even here on the third floor, a woman of her station merited a cistern of water and a private commode. It didn't make up for the rest of the discomfort, but it was a nice touch.

"Send for her," the Goddess commanded. "I will only be a moment."

It never took long to void a bladder so compacted.

When she came out of the bathroom, the Sorceresses of both Pussy and Within were waiting for her. Pussy was naked. Within wore only her white physician's smock, with its pockets for various tools, ointments and potions. The smock was open at the front, however, showing that she was respecting her superior's nudity.

"Never far, are you?" she said to Within.

"No, Imminence."

"Well, have a look, then."

The Goddess lay down on the bed and spread her legs so that Within could kneel on the floor and examine her.

"And?" the supine woman asked, not getting up.

"Tonight, perhaps," Within said. "Tomorrow morning at the latest."

The Goddess merely stared at the black cloths which formed a kind of roof over her four post bed.

"Everything is ready?"

This was a question for Pussy.

"The merchant caravan is set to travel, along with an Endowment woman who has kept her milk up", the other Sorceress responded.

The Goddess sighed wearily.

"Very well, then," she said. "Let me be about my day."

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

Talla wasn't finding swimming to be as easy as others made it look. She'd gotten a good read on a basic breaststroke, but wasn't comfortable treading water for any length of time. Mostly, she went to the pool house to meet with her co-conspirators. Since she was early, she'd decided to jump in the water early to cool off from a long morning of bow and bo staff exercises. They had started practising formations today, which had mostly resulted in girls hitting each other with their bo staffs.

Turning over on her back so her bare breasts could take in the cooling action of the light breeze that drifted over the surface of the pool, Talla decided that she would not be any part of a military assault on the Temple. Not that such a thing had ever been part of the plan, but she'd definitively ruled out her competence in that area today.

With her nipples delightfully stiff from the cooling effect of evaporation, she rolled back over and came to the edge of the pool. She grabbed the lip of the pool and, just as she prepared to lift herself out, she found she was staring directly into the bare mound of someone sitting cross legged in front of her.

"V'shika," she said.

V'shika was looking off into the distance behind Talla. The sad look on her face made Talla turn around, thinking that there was a beautiful woman swimming there that was provoking some sort of the envy in her colleague.

But no one swam in the water where V'shika stared.

With the ease that came from her single Strength upgrade, Talla pulled herself up over the edge of the pool and sat next to V'shika.

"What's up, sister?"

"We don't have much of a chance," V'shika heaved a sigh.

"Can't be that bad," Talla said. "Let's find a private spot."

Scanning the room, she noticed not only an empty bath, but also Zoe and Tina stripping off their clothes near the pegs by the entrance. In short order, all four naked girls were in one large tub, huddled together.

"Spill it," Zoe told V'shika. "You look pale as death."

Which, given the Within girl's dark complexion, was a bit ridiculous.

"I've looked into how they make ... the stuff," V'shika explained, refusing to actually say 'Synergist'.

"And?"

"It takes about two weeks to make it from the raw plant," she said. "They have to dry out the leaves for a couple of days. Then they get soaked in some kind of acid."

"Some kind?" Talla asked.

"They don't get specific," V'shika replied dully. "At least not with somebody wearing white." She sighed depressively and shrugged.

"Ah."

"So they soak it in this acid for a while, and then they boil off a whole lot of water. After that, it goes into a cauldron and they poor in a tonne of some special sugar and they cool it down."

"We're not trying to produce the stuff, V'shika," Talla pointed out. "So we don't need perfect details on how it's made."

"The problem is where they keep it," V'shika went on, her voice now so flat it made Talla cringe in fear. "Once the sugar is added, it gets really thick and it absolutely has to stay cool. Absolutely everybody seems to know that - it's no secret at all."

"It's been pretty cold every times it's been on my body," Tina pointed out.

"Exactly. Everybody knows it."

V'shika took a deep breath.

"So there's only one place where they keep the stuff, in a deep, cold vault under Within. The room is so far underground that it stays cold, which preserves the Syn ... the stuff."

"You're sure there's only one vault?" Talla asked.

"Yeah," V'shika said. "I mean, they could be lying to me, but it's pretty expensive to dig that deep, y'know?"

"So what's got you so glum?" Zoe asked.

"The guards," V'shika said. "That place is so heavily guarded, it's ridiculous. I'm talking about multiple, locked, brass doors. We are not ever going to sneak in there to steal that whole supply. If we try to knock out a single shipment, all they'll do is send another shipment."

"They'd be way oversupplied," Talla nodded. "No reason not to be."

"But all the same," Tina pointed out. "One supply. One route to the Goddess."

"So what?" V'shika blew a breath up through her hair.

"So it's something," Zoe insisted. "Talla and Zhair'lo will figure something out."

Talla still felt that Zoe's confidence in her and Zhair'lo was very misplaced. All they'd done so far was gotten Talla's ass whipped once and then piled together a bunch of disaffected, low-ranking people. As far as actual action against the Temple, there was a big fat zero in the points column.

Outwardly, however, Talla tried to radiate leadership at everyone. At the moment, that consisted mostly of proudly holding her chest above the water line while appearing pensive.

"We'll work on it," she said and, a moment later, "How long does it last if you let it warm up?"

"A few bells," V'shika said. "They usually have to bring up two separate batches, one after the other, when they do upgrades."

Talla rubbed her forehead.

"But a delaying action won't work either," V'shika said. "Even if you could, I don't know - engineer something to fall on one group of them and block them off, they'd just send another."

"Engineer something?" Talla asked.

"Yeah," Zoe said. "That's you, right? Endowment? The builders and engineers and what not."

"I suppose."

That was her field. Talla was supposed to be learning a lot on the subject, but she was currently stuck with a bunch of Endowment and Sweetness Virgins learning the basics of defending a Temple wall.

"I don't think I can 'engineer' a wall to fall in anyone's way," she admitted. "But, like you said, that wouldn't work anyway."

A thought struck her.

"I wonder, though," she said suddenly. "About the roof of this vault."

"You think you could collapse the whole thing?" Zoe asked eagerly.

V'shika perked up at this.

Talla tried to picture any of the underground rooms she'd been in. They were usually supported by massive stone pillars that were left behind when the room was carved out. The engineers in Endowment had a pretty shrewd notion of how much stone was needed to support a certain amount of roof. She remembered seeing arches and such, all carved out of stone, but there were also rooms supported by timbers.

"I'd need to know what the room looks like inside, I think."

A dismissive breath of air issued from V'shika.

"No chance of that," she said. "No one anywhere near our rank ever gets in that place."

"What's the closest you've been?"

"They let us walk down this long tunnel that ends at the outermost door," V'shika shrugged. "There's a tiny window they look out of. When they opened the door, I could see a door farther in and a room full of guards, but they wouldn't let us in."

"Anything else you remember?" Zoe asked.

"Just that it was damned cold," the Within girl shivered involuntarily. "Thought I'd got a Point upgrade on the way down there. Gods awful draught."

There was a collective sigh.

"Sorry," Talla said, sinking into the water until it touched her chin. "Did you say there was a draught?"

"Of wind, yeah," V'shika said. "So?"

Talla smiled.

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

Zhair'lo stared directly in front of him, toward the far end of the barracks where the spiked, wooden wall touched the sky. In his peripheral vision, he caught Sergeant Yung returning to watch over them. They'd been standing at attention for over a bell, now, watching the sun go down very, very slowly. The Sergeant had been rotating various of his men through to keep watch on them. That way, the real Fighters could have a break while the recruits grew stiff and delirious.

It had gone on so long that Zhair'lo had developed an internal monologue.

'Lunch has been skipped,' he thought. 'That ought to be mentioned, if someone is taking notes.'

He kept his eyes steady, even as he felt his body begin to swim.

'I don't think any of us are sure what would happen if we moved. But we don't dare.'

There might be some punishment, after all.

'I think I can feel Renzi started to actually wobble. I've decided not to look at him as it wouldn't be conducive to my long term success.'

Zhair'lo furrowed his brow slightly.

'I seem to be using bigger words the closer I get to exhaustion.'

"At ease," the Sergeant whispered.

The recruits let out a heavy sigh and relaxed their stances so their feet were shoulder width apart and their hands were clasped behind their backs.

"You may walk quietly back to your quarters now," he said.

'None of us dare to ask about dinner,' Zhair'lo narrated.

The eight of them walked slowly and stiffly back to their quarters. Having spent not just the morning but also the afternoon marching around the Barracks, they knew the way perfectly. With Bree and Zhair'lo leading, by dint of stumbling in a slightly more capable fashion than anyone else, they entered their tiny room, each eliciting a sigh of relief at having escaped even the last of the dwindling sunlight.

"Women at the back," Sergeant Yung ordered. "Stand in front of the desk and face the wall."

Exhausted into submission, the four leather clad girls obeyed without any argument.

"Zhair'lo?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Anybody you haven't fucked yet?"

"Sir?" Zhair'lo turned to look over his shoulder.

Sergeant Yung, towering over the four boys crowded into the narrow aisle between the beds, looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He clearly would not be repeating himself.

"Zia, sir."

"Go stand behind her, then."

Zia was at the far left end of the desk. While Zhair'lo took his place behind her, she looked over her shoulder, alternating the target of her studious gaze between him and the Sergeant who was, one by one, going through the other boys and directed them to the their places.

"Good!" Sergeant Yung shouted. "Now, men, remove the skirt of the woman in front of you."

A strange chill ran through Zhair'lo. The girls weren't quite standing cheek to cheek. The room was, after all, wide enough for a small cot on each side and a aisle down the centre. The desk was almost as wide as the room. They could probably have eight or nine couples into the space if they'd been prepared to touch each other.

"Did I stutter?!"

It was Sergeant Yung's favourite line when they hesitated to follow his orders.

"Do it," Zia hissed at him.

Jarred into action, Zhair'lo reached for the ties at the sides of Zia's skirt, unlacing first one side and then the other. When the laces loosened as far as her hips, he carefully slid the leather over her sweat-tacked flesh. The smell of the square they'd sweltered in and the heat of the afternoon were upon her.

'And Nine Gods ... the legs.'

"Good," the Sergeant did not conceal his sarcasm. "Now when you're done fucking each other, hit the showers and get to the mess."

With that, the veteran Fighter marched out of the room and shut the door.

For a brief moment, the boys looked at each other before, by some unspoken mutual agreement, they turned their gazes away and never looked back again.

"Madra Zen," Zia hissed a curse. "I'm too gods damned dry."

"Turn around, then," Zhair'lo told her.

"What?"

'To be honest,' he thought, 'I'd just like to get off my feet.'

Rather than explain anything to Zia, he gently turned her around and pushed her naked butt up on the desk.

"Spread your legs?"

"I ... okay."

If she couldn't figure out where this was going, she couldn't possibly have been an Initiate. Her rank meant she'd been Serving men for over a year, didn't it? So why was she looking at Zhair'lo with that dumbfounded expression?

As if she was sleepwalking, she opened her legs to him, placing her feet on the table next to Bree who was bent over the desk on Zhair'lo's right. Bree looked over at her quizzically, but Zia was

too busy staring vacantly at Zhair'lo.

Willing himself to have enough saliva to make this work, Zhair'lo knelt on the hard wooden floor, wrapped his arms under her thighs and started tonguing at the insides of her splayed lips.

"Hm!" Zia squeaked before squelching the involuntary noise from her throat.

Zhair'lo stopped immediately and looked up at her warily. The sound was so odd that even Bree turned gave Zia a sideways glance.

"Keep going," Zia insisted quietly with a small nod of encouragement.

"No one's done this for you before?"

Zia's eyes found the ceiling for a few heartbeats before she could meet Zhair'lo's eyes again.

"I'm Iron," she said, as if that explained everything.

"So?"

"So," Bree put in helpfully. "No one thinks to try that with us Form girls."

Zhair'lo shrugged and went back to work. The salty taste of her sweat was palpable, along with the musty, oiled scent of the leather skirt she'd been wearing. There had been no underwear; no absorbent layer of cotton, between armour and flesh.

"Oh, Madra Zen," Zia sighed. "Where have you been?"

Zhair'lo hadn't done this in a while, but he didn't find it hard. Zia was quiet but also clear in indicating which tongue and mouth motions worked best. Since she was so new to it, he used the absolute minimum amount of pressure. It was mostly a matter of stroking her clitoris as quickly as he could while letting his saliva drip down her slit toward her vagina.

Lubrication was the goal, wasn't it?

It had seemed so initially, but Zia began to moan.

"Zhair'lo," she murmured in a panic. "Zhair'lo! I - I - Oh, Nine Hells, I - I'm coming!"

Zia was well past being bothered by the fact that everyone was watching her jam her crotch into Zhair'lo's face. Not one to stop a girl in the middle of an orgasm, Zhair'lo pushed into her with as much of his strength as he thought she could bear for as long as he felt the muscles of her entrance twitching around his chin.

Drops of sweat on her forehead, she leaned to pull his head against her hard stomach.

"Zhair'lo," she whispered. "Madra Zen ... Zhair'lo."

He tried to remember the first time he had done this. Had it been Yua who had almost wrenched his neck off? This had been much less life threatening.

"Are you hard?" she whispered.

"Oh, yeah."

"Good, good," Zia was still dazed.

She slid off the desk, planting her feet carefully before turning her back on him.

"Quick," she said. "While I'm wet."

Wet, yes, but she was also exhausted. She let her upper body collapse on the desk in front of her. Zhair'lo, aroused significantly by causing and witnessing her orgasm, had to work carefully to get his leather shorts off without damaging himself. Once his erection was clear of his clothes, however, he slid up against her wet hole.

"Ready?"

"Oh, yes."

He pushed and slid easily into her.

...

Zia was not what he'd been expecting.

The few moments he'd spent licking her were not typical.

Zia wasn't a runner. She wasn't in Form for the rules. She didn't care to write laws, enforce them or catch people who broke them.

Zia wanted to fight.

She loved looking at weapons. She loved using weapons. She couldn't wait until it was her turn to use them on the enemies of the Temple.

Not that she had any special hatred for such people - Zia just wanted a good excuse to kill someone unequivocally bad. She needed something to get self righteously violent about.