Chapter 1: The Fires of Kazallu
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, Consensual, Romantic, Rape, Heterosexual, Fiction, Polygamy/Polyamory, First, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, School,
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1: The Fires of Kazallu - Once, magic worked. Centuries before Babylon, a boy from a poor family and little physical skill found a place through talent and hard study. His desires--safety, food, a woman’s affection--were in reach. But life was often short and risky: disease and drought, fire and enemy blades always loomed. To escape death, the apprentice hid away his spirit in a dangerous spell. He didn’t expect to sleep so long. Now, there are no sorcerers. Everything changed. And yet...
"Master Leshada! They broke the eastern gates! The Akkadians are pouring in!" screamed the water boy. He was running towards the market.
I was not a master yet. I just passed my practitioner's examination and was not ready to teach anybody, but this was no time to correct the boy.
The smoke was everywhere. The armies of King Sargon set fire to the orchards outside Kazallu. Then they sent the fire against the houses inside the city. Houses on fire smelled differently than burning trees, and lately the smoke also contained the sickening sweet smell of burning meat. I hoped it was just animals caught in the fires, but I feared worse.
Most of our soldiers were already dead, some trapped outside the walls when the Akkadians attacked without warning, and now the rest would be dying at the eastern gates.
My old teacher, Master Hashemal, was dead, too. For two days we struggled against the Akkadians, sending burning winds and evil dreams against their armies. But Akkad had more sorcerers, and they sent back the winds, the fires and then the evil dreams back to us. This morning Hashemal was struck by sorcerous lightning while trying another spell against the invaders. My weaker shields saved me only because I was not directly targeted.
The Akkadian sorcerers stopped sending firestorms now that their soldiers had entered the once beautiful Kazallu streets. Fighting my exhaustion, I scried the streets to the east. The Akkadians were killing some men, tying up others and herding them out of the city. Two tall figures in sorcerous robes were accompanying the soldiers, directing them to kill some of the Kazallu men. One of them raised his head as he felt my scrying and screamed something. Almost at once I felt an evil sending strike against my shield. The shield held, but I lost my focus. When I regained it, I saw in horror that the Akkadian sorcerer was leading a group of soldiers directly towards Hashemal's house and me.
I finally decided to try the Spell of Disembodiment. It's an advanced and dangerous sorcery, and even Master Hashemal was dubious about its chances of success. Nonetheless, it was better than being enslaved or killed by the Akkadians. It needed a special crystal to store my consciousness – Master Hashemal constructed one years ago, but never wanted to try it. It was said by the sages in ancient Eridu that old dying kings could have their spirits preserved in perfect jewels and then restored to young bodies; but despite such legends, nobody had successfully performed such spells in many generations.
I had only minutes to try. I took the hard, tiny red jewel out of the black wood box and placed it in front of me. Taking the sharp flint blade, I made thin cuts across my palms and smeared the blood on the stone, dulling its shine but not changing its color. I breathed deeply, putting myself in a trance.
Before I could start the chant I coughed, my throat raw with previous spells and the still-spreading smoke. I had to sit down on the floor and breathe more shallowly. My focus was fading, and I kept imagining the footsteps of the soldiers, led by the Akkadian sorcerer.
Finally the chant took hold. I grabbed as much of the magic flow as I could. It nearly overwhelmed my control, but I knew I needed a lot to power the Spell of Disembodiment. I cast the spell, which I had practiced along with Master Hashemal, never intending to use it.
The stone grew in my sight until its red glow blocked out the walls and the windows. I felt dizzy. My focus was shaking, and I felt blood in my nose and mouth. I thought I heard the harsh Akkadian voices, but it could have been my imagination. I could no longer hold my position, slumping to the floor. I hoped one of the sorcerers did not get the jewel – they would recognize it and either destroy it or imprison my spirit.
My hands relaxed, loosening the red jewel. It rolled on the floor, but its glow was still in my eyes. It grew until the whole world was red.