Author's note*

Be advised: This chapter contains content that may be distressing for some. Read at your own discretion with the tags/rating of this story in mind. If you do not want to read such content, a summary of important plot details is available at the end of the chapter.

"I hope you enjoyed your respite. I've waited for days for the Reaper to leave the fort. I almost believed he might've killed you by now," Vezhir hissed into Alaesia's ear as he heaved the woman off her feet, dragging her deeper into the shadows of the cave. "The idiot just had to go and bring you along didn't he? He's lucky he didn't get you crushed in the process. That surprise took a lot of effort to arrange just for him!"

"NO! PUT ME DOWN! AR-TASHK– HELP ME! PLEASE!" Alaesia screamed, trying to kick and punch with all her might, anything that might drive him away. Her futile efforts only made him laugh; she couldn't even bruise him.

In a small chamber beyond the narrow cave entrance, Vezhir threw his prize to the ground, and leapt on top of her. She protested and thrashed under his weight but couldn't stop the uruk from ripping her scant clothing from her body with his eager claws. He pinned her wrists with one hand, dragging his tongue across her chest to taste the blood that beaded around her stitches.

"Stupid snaga-kurf. You actually think the olog is going to stop me ? He delivered you to me ! He answers to me ! You're just a piece of meat he gets to have when I've finished with you! You are mine !" the overlord hissed.

"STOP! AR-TA–" Alaesia's shriek was muffled by the uruk mouth slamming against her own. She tried to pull away, tried to avoid his touch, tried to will herself to be free of her mortal frailty, but the nightmare was inescapable. As Vezhir tried to shove his tongue down her throat, it was all Alaesia could do to bite down as hard as she could, causing the uruk's blood to gush into her mouth.

He yanked back, snarling in surprise, "You should be screaming my name, bitch!" The pain from the wound she had inflicted only fueled his aggression. He grabbed her jaw with his claws, forced it open and allowed himself to continue to rove her mouth. She spluttered and choked on the uruk's blood, unable to keep it from entering her stomach.

Vezhir reveled in the presence of the human's torment, all of it, by his own design. The graug had worked like a charm to preoccupy the olog who had kept the overlord from his toy. There was something far more appealing about stealing a slave from under his olog's nose, rather than just having open access to the slaves at the caves. He could have them any time he wished. Taking something withheld from him, the adrenaline and risk, was intoxicating. His mind was entirely focused on the human's misery, only to be interrupted by a raspy voice hissing at him.

"Let me have a look at her before you have your fun," The goblin witch cautiously prodded the uruk with the butt of her staff to let her get access to Alaesia. The moment the begrudged uruk shifted his weight, Alaesia tried to scramble away, clawing at dirt and rock to escape. Vezhir was faster.

"You're staying right here, tark…" The owlish uruk seized her by the legs with his talons, taking particular pleasure in how they pierced her skin, and dragged the human back so he could reluctantly pin her down and allow the witch to proceed with the examination; he loathed to wait any longer to take what he wanted from her making the uruk growl with impatience, "Make it quick, dum-shatraug… My ghash-dorozga needs to be taught who owns her!"

Alaesia cried out as the witch shoved her legs apart and began to poke and prod within her interior. Every touch from the goblin's cold, clawed hands dug and bruised into her skin and body. A sudden spike of pain shot up Alaesia's spine, stealing her breath away.

"She's in labor already, sire!" The witch's snap brought the overlord back from his fantasies of torture.

Vezhir leaned in close to Alaesia, tracing her throat with his fangs, "What perfect timing, it almost seems like fate, doesn't it? You get to fulfill this moment of triumph for me, and I'll get to start over with you right away!"

Vezhir used his weight to pin her down by her torso, his armored legs digging into her sides. He dug his claws into her shoulders, chest, and back as she writhed to his will. She was completely restrained, leaving the witch open access at her legs as intermittent waves of pain struck.

Tears streamed down Alaesia's face as the growing pain in her pelvis was becoming so incredibly unbearable. Her ears were filled with the pounding of her heartbeat, but even that couldn't drown out the sounds of the uruk's disgusting delight. Great swells of anguish shuttered through the woman's body, causing involuntary, instinct-driven convulsions. From the corner of her eye, Alaesia could see rings of smoke and hear the goblin witch chanting over her body. The wicked invocation seemed to bolster the waves of pain, making them faster and stronger. Not again! Let me die… Oh Eru… please, let me die!

Alaesia didn't know how much time had passed, when Vezhir's weight finally lifted off her body. Her mind had turned to blank darkness as the witch had weaved her spell; it was Alaesia's only means of escaping the suffering until the goblin's magic was cast and executed. Now, she watched her tormentors through bleary, bloodshot eyes, as the uruk turned to face the goblin witch. Alaesia's ears rang and throbbed with the dull roar of her own pulse, making it difficult to clearly make out any of their exchange.

"You finished yet, witch?"

"Yes… Sire…." The witch rose. She set aside her bone needle that Alaesia recognized as the one the witch previously used to stitch her up. The prickling sting between the slave's legs seemed to indicate she had done so again. The witch seemed hesitant, before finally lifting a pallid form up for the uruk overlord to examine. A tense silence chilled the stifling cave air.

Alaesia could hear the witch begin to sputter, but she couldn't make sense of what the goblin was saying; it all sounded so muffled, as if they were under water. Vezhir's lip curled as the witch stammered, trying to placate his increasing rage, "I don't know what went wrong; it was full of life, not but three days ago! I swear it!"

"What kind of games are you at, dum-shatraug?!" The uruk's voice rose dangerously. He violently shoved the witch's proffered hands away, for in them rested a malformed, cold, pale body of his spawn. The corpse was far more tarkish looking, pink and pitiful, than it ought to have been. Everything the overlord had planned, every scheme he had been vesting in creating a second generation uruk army was destroyed in the crumpled body of his failed experiment. He couldn't…. No, wouldn't accept it! "You promised me warriors, nar urkum maturz!"

"The olog must have done something…!" the witch protested, cowering before the overlord.

Vezhir grabbed the witch by the throat and threw her to the ground, along with the infant's corpse, snarling at her, "Weave your cursed majicks, witch! Fix what you've broken and fulfill your promise! If you want to keep your head, you will do as I tell you!"

"There is nothing to be done, undead cannot grow! Bringing back the life of a child will never create a warrior!" The witch could only screech back at him, covering her face with her arms in a desperate attempt to shield herself.

Vezhir stared with his piercing, yellow eyes at the goblin, crazed with fury. Every ounce of his absolute contempt for goblins manifested as his voice turned to ice. "If there was nothing to be done, then you are useless to me."

With that utterance, the uruk drew a blackened-iron blade from his belt, and shoved it through the side of the witch's throat before she could move. A sickening gurgle bubbled through the wound as the life left her dark, void-like eyes. Her staff, no longer upheld in the witch's knotted hand, clattered to the ground. He scowled, and whirled on Alaesia, who had rolled on her side, trying to crawl away. He kicked her back onto her back, placing his boot on her throat as she gasped for air.

"You have outlived your usefulness to me… A bitch that breeds corpses should be culled!" Vezhir sneered. Alaesia's head swam in a torpor as her vitals were cut off by the weight pressing down on her throat as he leaned in to listen to the dying cries of her gurgling voice.

"Plea..se… Ar…Tashk… hel…p…" there was nothing she could do to summon enough strength to shove him away. The witch's magic had left her limp and at the uruk's mercy. The only other thing she could see was the tiny form she had given birth to, sprawled on the ground next to her. It's so small, so helpless…

The infant's body was as thin, if not thinner than her own. Its skin was mottled with deep bruising, and its top lip parted due to a cleft that marred half of its face. The other half of the infant's face was horrifically human, with miniature features that churned her stomach in a mournful ache. A button nose sat below two closed eyes framed by delicate eyelashes; gossamer peach-fuzz covered its fragile, pale body; tiny ears curled into wet, wrinkly points; dusty rust-colored locks of hair sparsely covered its little head; its fingers sported miniature claws; within the cleft, Alaesia spied the faintest hint of a fang poking through its gums.

Every bit of anger she had felt towards the infant now filled her with remorse; it wasn't the infant's fault for existing, it hadn't deserved her hate. It was as much a victim to the uruk as she was. As her vision was darkening at the edges, she tried to whisper an apology, wishing she had never cursed ill-will upon it.

Translations*

Snaga-kurf - slave whore

Tark - human

Dum-shatraug - fate witch

Nar urkum maturz! - Not damned corpses!

Majick - A mispronunciation of magic