ã€ŠThe Black Lord&#x27;s Promiseã€‹


 Prologue: Concerning a Slave Girl

    Emaciated and with her regal locks shorn, the slave girl was unrecognizable for who she was. No one, except for those with sharp eyes, couldsuspectthe girl was of noble blood, not that her former titles would be honored in the heathen township in one of the lawless regions of the continent. She huddled in the middle of the other slaves being taken to market. Currently, they were penned inside of an iron cage, one of many such in the district of Bowl Lake Town, as the natives called it, for the shape of the nearby body of water. The slave shivered in the damp air. She had been raised in dryer flatlands, not these mountains and hills filled with lakes and the rotten towns named after them. The air stank of cook fires, shit and wet hides. The towering mountains were topped with snow, although the winter had been warmer than most so the overnight frost had turned into slush and mud. Still, the temperature was brisk even at mid-day, and any wind chilled the bones.

    At least the waiting slaves could huddle to conserve their warmth as their rags did little to protect them from the elements. She could see her breath in the air as she curled against another girl in the back of the putrid pen. It was a mixed lot, from the old to young, though they were kept in groups by gender. The men sat outside, chained together and sitting under a wet tarp. Merchants wearing fur bustled about on their errands on the muddy street. A young boy kept listless guard, half-asleep, leaning on the fence that partially divided the compound. Several traders were storing their wares in the cramped space between wooden buildings.

    Most of the other women in the cage were general stock from the local populace: Shank women of the Hill tribes who had been sold for debts by their own relatives. They were used for general labor and household duties with few being young or tender enough to be considered for brothels or concubines. A handful, like the nameless one, were captives from far flung regions, usually seized via warfare and passed through the markets as slightly more prized offerings due to their exotic nature. However, the best spoils rarely made it to these types of places.

    The unnamed girl was a rare gem, and she knew it but had wisely managed to keep herself from being noticed. Until those wise eyes finally picked her out from the others.

    ¡°That one,¡± an old crone pointed her finger directly at the huddled slave. She kept her head pushed against the other girl, trying to ignore the attention.

    The boy guffawed, ¡°Dumb ol¡¯ witch. That¡¯s just some Esperian squaw. Look at her ribs. She won¡¯t live through winter.¡±

    He squealed when the slaver cuffed him into the mud.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to make a sale, boy. I¡¯m taking any loss of profit out of your pay, and maybe some interest from your backside,¡± the angry slaver who had just come up shouted. He, of course, agreed with the assessment, but it was bad business to denigrate ones wares in the open. He bowed to the old crone, a grey haired woman in a modest outfit hunched over a walking stick. ¡°My apologies. Difficult to find good help in these territories, I fear.¡±

    ¡°Nevertheless, I will take that one,¡± the woman said, firmly. Her eyes were surprisingly clear and sharp as they gazed from behind wrinkled eyelids.

    This momentarily triggered the merchant¡¯s innate sense of greed as his intuition suggested that his piss poor day might be improving. He offered, ¡°I¡¯m having a special, and the boy wasn¡¯t entirely wrong. I¡¯ll let you have both the girls to make it a fair deal for an even weight of hard coin or the equivalent in trade if it passes muster, but I fear I can¡¯t accept credit or local currency.¡±

    ¡°I have metal, don¡¯t worry. Silver will work, eh? I only need the one,¡± she clucked, rattling her purse. If the slaver was curious as to why an old woman, alone and with no apparent connection to any liege or clan to protect her, was wandering about the corrupted hills with hard coin, the slaver didn¡¯t ask or wonder. It was usually best not to wonder too much into other people¡¯s business, as the slaver had learned that it lead to a longer life. He took the coins without further ado, greedily pressing them together to feel them. The girls were worth hardly more than a few bits on a good day, he thought. They had been sickly the entire trip from where he had picked up the whole lot from auction further south from a bankrupt caravan, and the good wenches had already been set aside in his private quarters for direct sales. The slaver was not above testing his wares.

    The slave girl hissed, but the boy had a metal prod he liked to use indiscriminately. She acquiesced as the boy pointed for the two young women to get out. The two held each other up as they stepped from the opened cage. The Shank women just stared at them dully, without emotion or goodbyes.

    The boy shackled them together and passed the keys over to the old crone. The other girl with the nameless one was actually Esperian and had a chronic case of some lung disease. Although they looked similar at first, any one with discerning eyes could see beyond the caked mud and offal that the short-cropped girl was actually a fine beauty despite her weakened state. The slaver, usually a better judge, had been in a hurry, passing over the gem without inspecting her closely. A suspicion rose up in him as the old woman led her new charges away, but he was distracted by a new group of customers who had wandered into the lot.

    ¡°Looking for hard laborers? I have just brought in a fresh gang from the Breaks. They can dig, chop wood, mine, anything you need strong arms¡­¡± He¡¯d already forgotten about the old crone and the two useless slaves.

    A few blocks from the slave market, the old crone seemed to gain a step. In fact, her back straightened a bit as she walked. She took the key and unchained the Esperian. In a stronger voice, the woman ordered, ¡°I don¡¯t need the dead weight. Off with you, girl. You¡¯re free.¡±

    The girl looked stricken. Her already pale skin turned white. Her bare ribs heaved as she wailed, ¡°I¡¯ll starve, mistress! I have nothing and no one here. You will be sending me to my grave. If you have any mercy, then just cut my throat.¡± She began coughing again, spitting blood. People walking by gave them a wide birth. Some made hand gestures to ward off evil spirits.

    The nameless one finally spoke, though she didn¡¯t speak the local tongue fluently, ¡°Yes. Together. If throw her away, I go also!¡±

    The old woman took a moment to decide, hissing, ¡°All right. We are attracting too much attention here. But what this girl has will kill her, sooner than later.¡±

    The woman had rented a property a mile¡¯s walk from the center of the town. It may have been a fine manor at one point though now quite run down. Still, it was habitable and quite an improvement from the tents and cages the two slaves had been accustomed to for the past several weeks on their journey north.

    Inside, the woman set aside her cane and cloak. Instead of looking elderly, she now appeared to be a weathered lady of middle years. She stoked the fire in the main room, giving the two girls blankets to warm themselves beside it. An old animal skin kept them separated from the cold floor. The room was large, but spare. Dusty trophy heads hung on the walls. It was ugly, but the first true home the noble slave had occupied in a few years.

    She helped the sickly Esperian lie down, offering her a sip from some water she found. Their new owner had stepped into another room, minding some unknown business.

    The girl, known as Maritia, coughed, spilling water and spittle, ¡°I think the lady is a witch.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the nameless one agreed in her own tongue: ¡°A sorceress.¡±

    Mari shook her head, not comprehending the foreign word, ¡°An ill fortune, either way. You still have a chance. Run away, Gyoza. The door isn¡¯t locked, I saw.¡±

    The noble slave shook her head, ¡°No. I stay with you.¡± She didn¡¯t correct the pet name her friend had given her, for the dumplings she had craved.

    When the door flung open, the two girls were startled, but it was the old woman, bringing two cups of broth for them. She said, ¡°Here, it will give you strength. This one has a certain tincture that will help with the cough.¡± Mari wrung her nose at the medical smell from her bowl, but hunger overcame her reluctance. Indeed, it seemed to help, allowing her to relax for the first time in days. The girl fell fast asleep, her cough quelled.

    ¡°So, Gyoza, shall I make some dumplings for you?¡± the old witch winked. The slave almost spit out her broth as the woman continued, ¡°I have good ears. Let¡¯s call you Piro, instead. Don¡¯t worry, I don¡¯t care where you are really from. There is a bath and fresh clothes. Your friend can get cleaned up later.¡±

    Piro, as she was now called, did not ask the sorceress what she was up too, but she had certain ideas. She was grateful not to be locked in a cage or at the mercy of the menfolk. As the days passed, her body filled out from the food and the rose returned to her cheeks. Unfortunately, Mari¡¯s cough gradually returned although her condition was otherwise improved.

    Out of earshot, the old woman, who called herself Noma, explained, ¡°The tincture is only good to soothe not to cure. There is none I am knowledgeable about, in terms of cures.¡±

    ¡°What about other things?¡± Piro asked.

    ¡°Those things are forbidden in most places and would have the likes of me burned,¡± Noma chuckled. ¡°Though I am pretty tough. Let them try. In any case, I do not have the materials to spare for that, nor are they easy to acquire. Just asking for some of them would have the militia at our door, even in this relatively lawless territory.¡±

    Piro and Mari had both tacitly accepted that they were not to leave the property, though in the latter case the girl had little strength or motivation to be very active. She lay abed while her friend cared for her and they practiced the regions common tongue together to pass the time. The sorceress hid herself away for much of the day, working on some unknown project in a private chamber that she kept bolted.

    Mari had joked, ¡°An old witch and two virgins. I¡¯d say from the fairy tales that at least one of us will be made into a pie or worse.¡±

    Piro was not familiar with the references, but she could imagine the dark secrets of sorcerers and their ilk. No person of common sense would feel totally safe in the haven of one. Of course, different cultures had their own opinions on the matter. If Piro was in the thrall of the woman, she dared not test it, although she had only given them kindness, so far.

    Time passed. No one questioned Noma¡¯s source of income, as she kept them housed and fed in the old mansion. Winter changed to spring as Mari grew weaker, permanently abed, lowering the spirits of her only friend who tried to keep the dying girl comfortable.

    Finally, on a particular day, her hands were especially cold as Piro held them. Wheezing as she struggled to breath, Mari said, ¡°I wish I was as beautiful as you. Now that your hair has grown out¡­¡±

    Piro hadn¡¯t cried then, and when it became time to sit alone on the porch after her friend had finally passed, she held back her tears. It had been years since she had wasted any water in grief, for there weren¡¯t enough the world to account for all that she had lost already. Mari had been having a tough time, gasping like a dying trout as her lungs had filled up. With nothing else to help, Noma had given Piro a small bottle of some fluid, warning, ¡°Give her a few drops of this. It will ease her breathing, but when she sleeps, she will most likely not awake. It¡¯s a concentration of the same extract. Wash your own hands after administering it, as it is very potent.¡±

    Nodding, Piro had offered it to Mari who had desperately accepted the drug as if knowing it would bring the final relief she needed. Her thin face had looked peaceful at last as she had fallen into sleep although slow tears had filled her half-closed eyes. Her wheezing had rapidly settled into gasps that gradually waned until only her mouth moved in a hopeless reflex. Her jaw, after a while, had opened like a yawn for a brief moment, and then stopped half-closed. Piro had put her own head up against the poor girl¡¯s bosom, clutching at her friend¡¯s hands, but she had been unable to feel a breath or heartbeat after that point.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Noma had arranged for men to bury the poor slave girl in a potter¡¯s field close by, as the mansion owner would not approve of a graveyard on their property. Piro stood outdoors for the first time, other than the grounds of the house proper, in weeks. She laid flowers on the fresh grave as Noma stood watch. The workmen left them alone, although they took sidelong glances at the young woman. She was clothed in a plain country dress, a stitched, fur-lined jacket made from cheap pelts, and a worn muffler as well as a scarf that covered most of her head, but the men could tell that she had a fine figure and her plump cheeks were far more refined than the average village woman of the region.

    ¡°Daughter of some baron or wealthy trader, maybe?¡± one whispered to the other.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen her about before today. The old woman has been renting the Counselor¡¯s old place for half a year now. Maybe a broke family sold her to the old hag.¡±

    ¡°The old woman scares me. Better not to poke too much into her business,¡± the other made a warding sign. ¡°I¡¯d burn some incense if I were you.¡±

    ¡°Superstitions, old man,¡± the first man ribbed him.

    Indeed, it was a risky time for two women to be living alone; however, there was only one attempt at burglary that ended with the hoodlums running away without any gain. Piro never asked what had kept them from completing their mission, or why the townsfolk gave the mansion a wide berth, but it meant things were quiet and peaceful so she didn¡¯t care.

    One day, there was a delicious smell in the house as Noma had decided to cook again after a long while. Piro had, on her own, decided to keep up appearances as a household servant that included doing most of the chores and preparation of meals. The older woman had been an indifferent cook, seeming relieved when Piro had offered to take over the position. Piro had been cleaning the upper floors when she¡¯d noticed the smell.

    Noma smiled at her, eyes twinkling, as she announced, ¡°Today is a special day. I am making what I promised long ago. Steamed dumplings. I hope you like garlic.¡±

    They shared the dumplings in a rich soup. It wasn¡¯t the same as the type Piro recalled from her childhood, when she had eaten them fried, but it was close enough. She let the smell fill her nostrils as she slurped up each dumpling, the hot filling almost burning her tongue as the packets of dough broke open in her mouth. The once nameless slave ate until she felt her belly would burst. They shared some wine from a dusty bottle Noma had retrieved from the cellar.

    Piro had suspected everything was too good to be true, but when she fell asleep at the table, the dreams she had were all pleasant ones.

    When she awoke, she was in a different place. It took her a moment to realize what was happening: she was strapped to hooks drilled into the floor of a large room. She recognized the ceiling as being the same style as the rest of the mansion but the room was not familiar. It was one of the forbidden rooms that had always been locked by Noma, day and night.

    There were candles everywhere around her nude body, as well those in sconces and wall fixtures but also an assortment of large wax cylinders of varying sizes placed at random intervals on the floor as well as any open surface. It would be a pleasant scene except for the fact that Piro could not move. The thin straps were not that strong, she simply had no energy to fight even the weakest of bonds.

    Piro finally noticed the sound, a thin droning voice that was interrupted by an occasional ringing of a bell. She then realized that above her head, though not quite in full view, someone in a cloak was reciting some ritual.

    ¡°Noma?¡± she croaked. ¡°Noma!¡±

    The figure ignored her for a long time until ringing a bell one last time. Turning around, the cloaked person was indeed the old sorceress. Her eyes were cold, though Piro could see some of the warmth in the older woman¡¯s cheeks. Noma spoke, ¡°As you can see, this has always been your true purpose ever since I spotted you in the market. No, I don¡¯t care about which decrepit kingdom birthed you or any ransom that could be paid. I am after something greater.¡±

    ¡°I assume you¡¯re doing the things that everyone fears witches do. Evil rites to bring forth demons.¡±

    ¡°You speak much better now,¡± Noma said with some warmth returning to her voice. ¡°In other situations, I¡¯d make you my apprentice, but you are too valuable for that.¡±

    ¡°A sacrifice then? Of a virgin?¡± She stared numbly up at the ceiling. It was old and cracked.

    ¡°Indeed. Blood of a virgin. When dealing with higher powers, one must follow their whims, as odd as those may seem, for I don¡¯t know what is so special about a virgin¡¯s blood, honestly. Or even noble blood. With clean living, good food and a selective marriage, anyone can be a noble after a generation or two.¡±

    Piro was curious despite her predicament, ¡°As a sorceress, didn¡¯t you study such things?¡±

    ¡°Oh, my girl, I studied how to do certain things, not why,¡± the older woman laughed. ¡°Why is for philosophers. A magician is only interested in getting results, and so far, I had been getting nowhere with the usual methods. So, dark and arcane, it is. This one is one of the darkest of magics. You should be honored. In the old days, virgins were given to volcanoes or devoured by beasts for mundane hopes and dreams. I just need to spill the blood in your body at a specific time, specific season, in a specific way in order to call forth an old god to our world. Why that will work, I have no idea. But think about it, a god!¡±

    ¡°But if it doesn¡¯t, I¡¯ll be just as dead,¡± blurted Piro.

    ¡°It¡¯s a risk I¡¯m willing to take,¡± Noma said, preparing a wicked looking dagger. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It will be quick. I have to do it at the ¡®stroke¡¯ of midnight. The thing is I don¡¯t happen to have a proper clock, so I am preparing another special magic to tell me when we hit the furthest part of night away from the sun. Normal timekeepers are terribly inaccurate anyways, so we will not rely on them to announce the proper moment.¡±

    As Noma fiddled with her books, beakers and mysterious bottles of reagents, Piro grew chilled on the cold floor. There were crumbs from past meals and empty plates added to the clutter on the counters in the room. Piro feared that rats would be attracted to the mess. Many of the candles grew short and the shadows grew darker in the corners of the room. Piro pleaded, ¡°How much longer? I¡¯m freezing. Please let me have a blanket, at least.¡±

    Noma muttered, frustrated, tossing down an expensive looking brass instrument onto her workbench, ¡°I can¡¯t discern the instructions for this device. Apparently, I must make use of the night sky to calibrate it, but it¡¯s been cloudy all week and I haven¡¯t had a chance to test it.¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t you been preparing all these months?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course. But I didn¡¯t expect this part to be so complicated,¡± she scratched her head. ¡°Ah, a timepiece will have to serve after all. We have an hour until it strikes midnight. Speaking of tests, I should draw some blood in order to check some things.¡±

    Piro asked, alarmed, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I only need a few drops,¡± the so-called sorceress pulled out the evil blade. ¡°I only have the one chance until next year, and finding another virgin with noble blood¡­¡±

    Piro squealed as Noma pricked one of her palms, collecting the blood in a glass cylinder. Whispering some memorized spell, Noma placed careful drops onto the floor around Piro¡¯s body. In the candlelight, the girl could discern faint markings but could not get a grasp of the pattern on the floor. Knowing nothing of the arcane arts, she had previously ignored the strange drawings. She noticed now that papers plastered up on the walls had similar designs and writing in some foreign script.

    As Noma proceeded with her strange ritual, Piro thought she felt warmth under her body. In fact, there was a distinct smell, like something foul was burning.

    ¡°Is that hell?¡± she asked. Noma ignored her, but seemed pleased.

    Finally, Noma clasped her hands in glee, ¡°I can see it! The patterns are coming alive, though faintly. Even with only that much blood, the Gate is being established!¡±

    ¡°How much will you need for the real thing?¡± Piro asked without much hope.

    ¡°All of it, of course,¡± Noma responded. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it has to be. I¡¯ve grown fond of our time together but this day was inevitable.¡± She took a grease pencil and marked off spots on Piro¡¯s chest and abdomen.

    ¡°But what will you gain from all this? Demons from hell? You¡¯d rule the world with them?¡±

    ¡°No, no. I just want to pact with a god. A God king to be exact. He is not a demon, at least not the type in the old stories. The stink of brimstone is just a reaction, not the actual fires of hell, if there is one. I do not seek power for myself. I only want justice!¡±

    The smell continued to grow and the warmth started to become uncomfortable. Piro struggled against her bindings but her strength was still gone. Whatever she had been drugged with was still mostly in effect. She pleaded once again, ¡°It burns. I thought you took a small amount. And the room seems brighter.¡±

    Noma looked around, puzzled. She got up suddenly, placing the knife on a counter, and began flipping pages from one of her books. She said, ¡°It¡¯s too early. The Gate opening is said to be ponderous. Each seal must be anointed with blood in a certain sequence while the hour strikes midnight.¡± She shook the timepiece and looked at it in consternation. ¡°It may be striking now. The mechanism hasn¡¯t been fed enough. Where¡¯s the winding key? No. If I miss the timing, it will all be for nothing. I was supposed to collect the blood in advance but it may be too late!¡± She took the knife, wild eyed, and pricked the wrists of the helpless girl, who screamed. The blood that spilled onto the writing on the floor flared instantly into light and smoke. Choking, the sorceress found a cloth to soak up the blood instead of trying to collect it in vials. In a furious motion, she squeezed the blood from the cloth onto various points of the floor in a specific pattern.

    There was a roaring sound, like rushing wind. Suddenly, the bloodied girl began to rise from the floor as some invisible pressure seemed to be pushing her up. Her restraints had already fallen away or turned to smoke. A scorching heat made the sorceress retreat. She threw open a window in order to relieve herself from the churning smoke, but this action seemed to enrage the invisible fire. The room was filled with light. Papers on the counters spontaneously turned to ash.

    It appeared that the girl was the center of the flame, one that burned so hot that Noma could no longer approach her. She was barely hanging on to life behind the farthest counter, trying to avoid the heat that now filled the room. Oddly, the place had not gone up into a total conflagration as yet. It was a mystical fire, Noma realized, not a physical one although her skin seemed convinced and her precious books and items had succumbed much the same. The light filled the room from all directions. Noma blinked tears from her eyes, but a sense of triumph filled her heart: it was working! The Gate was being established.

    She called out, ¡°Oh, Great one! I call thee to this world. At my command, I propose a pact!¡±

    From the roaring wind that was not wind, she finally heard a deep voice, ¡°Who calls, and for whom?¡±

    ¡°I am Noma Phrank of the ancient line of the old world. I call for the old king, Oberon, to rise again and take back his claim, his throne! To whom do I speak?¡±

    ¡°I am the voice of the Gate. Oberon? Oberon? Who calls for Oberon? The Merovingian?¡±

    ¡°Yes! I call for the great king, Oberon!¡± She had no idea what the voice of the Gate was. Perhaps it was a minor daemon of some sort or an elemental being. Some of the old books had said it was important to bind it by name, but she hadn¡¯t fully explored that line of research. No matter, she thought, the spell was working regardless.

    ¡°A sacrifice must be made. A life for a life!¡± The voice cried.

    ¡°But I have given you a life!¡± Noma exclaimed, but the strange voice kept repeating its demands. She peered at the unmoving body of Piro. The girl was still whole, she realized. Even the wounds from earlier were gone. Grasping the knife, Noma realized she had to take the girl¡¯s life with a clean stroke before the Gate closed. She probably only had moments at best. Struggling to reach the hapless girl, Noma faltered, stumbling back. The heat and pressure from the invisible wind was too much. She had mistimed the procedure and missed her best chance. A thought wormed in the back of her mind that, perhaps, she had been tricked somehow, nevertheless, if she did not do something quickly, she was going to fail!

    ¡°Wait! I have a life, just wait!¡± The chanting voice ignored her, gradually weakening. She shouted, ¡°I have called, so you must obey the contract!¡±

    ¡°The token you have given so far is not enough,¡± the voice said, whispering now. Whatever the being was, it wasn¡¯t being intentionally obtuse. It clarified, ¡°I sense two suitable lives¡­¡±

    Noma sighed, acknowledging what the voice meant. She chuckled to herself, ¡°I guess it was inevitable. Piro, if you can hear me, thank you. Take care. Oh, warden of the Gate! I will trade my life for the Great King. I only ask that he fulfill his promise to the world, and make it his own as the true ruler. Piro, you shall see a better world before I. Follow the King, and he will lead you to splendor, I promise it.¡±

    The light seemed dimmer now, time was short. Noma grimaced, holding the knife before her, reversed. With one last self-admonishing curse under her breath, she plunged the knife into her own throat and fell writhing onto the glowing script as her blood gushed over it. The whole room suddenly filled with the pure light that spread to every corner like an irresistible torrent obliterating all reason and sense.

    <hr>

    <blockquote>

    From the memoirs of L.C. Sydney, Historian:

    All it took was a little bit of the corruption, and that which was feared came to pass. No one could recall the exact moment the crack had opened. Maybe someone had seen it and given warning. Maybe a few, wise few, had seen it all coming and made efforts to stop it but when the great Fall came at last there was nothing Man could do. Hence, our reign went into eclipse with barely a whimper as darkness fell upon the land. For the average folk, surprisingly, little changed in their miserable lives as the demonic folk took what was once their birthright. Poor Reason, pale and fair, was hanged from a tree, much as the other fellow had been but where his flesh and blood had given grace, there was none left of hers to even remember.

    No longer is it the Age of Man, but now it is the Age of the Corrupted One who rules without mercy for an interminable future. In this remote place of exile, far from my ancestral home, I write in the gloom with my febrile hands not for any cause or even useful witness for some better age, for there shall be none in our lifetimes, but merely to alleviate my own boredom as my eyes weaken as fast as my wits.

    There are many who would wish to forget the terrible knowledge I have gathered over the years. What good is it to know if it cannot change the course of events? Yet, I am compelled to record this information for my own satisfaction. It is my own selfish whim.

    Perhaps, it began in that lawless frontier, where the snow birds still stopped on their way back home. I heard this story from a traveler, but at the time, I had no idea of its meaning¡­

    </blockquote>

 Chapter 1: Unconditionally Elected

    Dawn light poured through the shattered windows. Even the one that had been opened had been blown off its hinges. Piro picked herself up from the floor, brushing off the debris that had covered her. Groggily, she looked around. The room was a shambles, barely recognizable yet structurally still intact as only the furnishing inside seemed to have taken the brunt of the magical energy. Piro was surprised to find that she was unhurt, even the cuts having healed. The markings on the floor were illegible and any trace of the rituals the sorceress had transcribed were now nothing more than dust. There was no sign of the blood that had spilled, as if it all had been consumed by that light.

    Piro looked sadly at the forlorn body of the old woman curled up in death. Her face was white, but seemingly at peace.

    ¡°I hope you got what you wanted,¡± Piro whispered.

    Her heart leapt when she finally noticed the other person lying in the center of the debris. It was a man, naked as she was, unconscious but whole as if placed in the midst of chaos by some giant hand. He had blonde locks, a light beard and a robust body although nothing seemed unusual about him or unique. He was neither handsome nor ugly, neither tall nor short, but in most ways average, or at least that was Piro¡¯s assessment. In any event, she thought, he didn¡¯t seem to be a horned demon or some beast man from the dark forest.

    He was too heavy to lift, but she managed to rouse him.

    His eyes were emerald, she noted, as he blinked, ¡°Where am I?¡±

    At least he spoke the common tongue, so he was not some devil, she surmised. This was purely a guess as she knew nothing of the language of such beings. He did not resemble the arcane creatures from the stories of her childhood. Still, his accent was strange enough for her to notice even though she had only become familiar with the tongue recently. He recoiled, blushing, when he saw the state of her nakedness. Puzzled, she checked herself, but she seemed whole and unblemished.

    She asked, ¡°My name is Piro. How should one address your majesty?¡± She decided to be safe and make sure to use honorifics, although he hardly seemed kingly.

    He dusted himself off, looking instinctively for something to cover himself with as he replied, ¡°I think I heard something call for it. Is it Abraham? My head hurts. Abe. Abe works for the moment.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, your majesty,¡± she beckoned. The morning air was freezing and she wanted to get downstairs. His green eyes were his most unique feature, she thought. Slowly, he followed her to where she found some clothes for herself and some blankets for the naked man. He wrapped himself up eagerly. As if noticing the cold for the first time, he warmed himself by the hearth as she stoked it.

    ¡°Are you Asian?¡± he asked, suddenly.

    Confused by the new word, Piro shook her head. She had been thinking of which of the old trunks might have suitable men¡¯s wear. She decided to leave him alone for a moment so she could rummage.

    Rubbing the thin beard that was on his chin, Abe mumbled to himself, ¡°Place doesn¡¯t look Japanese. Damn ugly, whatever it is. A lot of hides like the American West when they plundered the wildlife. And the girl, maybe a foreigner in these parts. Damn, she¡¯s hot.¡±

    ¡°Is it too warm for you? Shall I bank the fire a bit?¡± Piro asked, walking in with arms full of clothes. Luckily, one of the trunks in the back room had some worn men¡¯s clothes that had been left, perhaps by the original tenant. Despite his protests, she managed to get him dressed in the mixed batch of items: a pair of stitched hide pants, a coarse woolen shirt, a leather vest, and a patchwork jacket with a fur lining that would keep him warm. The clothes did not fit well, but would work. There were no appropriate shoes or boots, except for some old sandals. She bowed, ¡°Not the most royal, but that is all we have. We will have to go to town to get you pair of good boots and maybe an overcoat for bad weather. I am at your service, oh, great liege.¡±

    ¡°Who me?¡± he pointed at himself. He straightened up, smirking, ¡°Ah, of course. I am the Great King Oberon, but where is my Queen and my Court?¡±

    ¡°I do not know, your majesty Oberon,¡± she knelt in mock obeisance. ¡°But I thought you were called Abraham, or Abe.¡±

    ¡°Ahem,¡± he coughed in what he hoped to be a kingly way. ¡°That is what I am called by friends. You will be my first friend in these lands. Besides, it may be better to go incognito, so to speak. Rise, dear lady.¡±

    ¡°In¡­cognito,¡± she mouthed the words.

    ¡°Secret, in other words. It would be foolish to announce myself at this stage,¡± he pumped up his chest. ¡°Call me Abe unless it is a formal occasion, so as not to call attention to our circumstance.¡±

    She laughed, ¡°Of course, Abe. Do you know how you were summoned here?¡±

    His eyes became distant. When he spoke, she knew he was not being entirely truthful, but she took his answer at face value. He said, ¡°Not quite, but I imagine the woman upstairs had something to do with it. Some dark magic, requiring blood, as she seemed entirely drained of it. Can you tell me more?¡±

    She recounted, as best she could, the intent of the dead woman and what she recalled of the ritual. She also told her some of the story of how she had come to the house and her condition there, though nothing detailed about her real home or the painful journey she had endured.

    ¡°Slavery, eh? I guess that makes things more exciting, despicable as that old practice may be. I don¡¯t feel particularly special to be honest. Seems I need more than the word of a dead witch to give me some authority in the matter. Where¡¯s a magical sword or some other sign from the heavens to signify my reign?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°I do not know. The old woman said that I should follow you, that you¡¯d lead us to a new kingdom.¡±

    He chuckled, ¡°So, are you circumcised?¡±

    She stared at him blankly as he guffawed to himself.

    ¡°Sorry, bad joke. I¡¯m mixing up the metaphors, too. More seriously, maybe we should do something for our benefactor upstairs.¡±

    Together, they brought down the body, wrapped in some blankets. Despite the severe wound on the neck, the pallid corpse was pristine. The lack of blood would raise suspicions, although it made for an easy cleanup. Piro was a bit stymied about what to do next. She said, as they put the body in a storage room, ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to explain this to the townspeople. They were already wary of her. Any mention of magical rituals would be¡­bad. She will have to stay here for now.¡±  She made a ritualistic gesture, something the priestesses of her people did for the deceased, although it probably meant nothing to the corpse or to the man.

    He nodded, ¡°Of course, a superstitious lot. I can imagine pitchforks and the two of us being tied to stakes. Yes, I¡¯d like to avoid that. Plus, I can¡¯t say I teleported here by magic either. I¡¯ll just have to play the mysterious stranger role, then.¡± He wrapped one of the extra blankets around his shoulders like a cape without a hood.

    ¡°You speak the common language but still use strange words. Try to speak easier.¡± Just as she said that, there was a knock at the door. Shushing Abe and pushing him back into a side room, she went to the main door, unlatching it to greet the visitor.

    It was, as she suspected, one of the neighbors, an older gentlemen with rheumy eyes who nervously stood before her. After exchanging a brief greeting, he asked, ¡°I just wanted to check in on you and the mistress, as there was rumor of some disturbance last night. Probably just the imaginings of my wife, but she claimed to have seen a bright light from this direction. With no sign of smoke or fire, we didn¡¯t call for the watch but just in case I thought it worthy to pay respects¡­¡±

    ¡°Of course! Thank you for your concern,¡± Piro bowed. ¡°We noticed some odd things in the sky too. Perhaps it was a little storm?¡±

    ¡°Well, perhaps,¡± he said doubtfully. ¡°I notice your upper window is broken. Perhaps the¡­ah, storm, broke the glass. I can recommend a repairman, if the landlord isn¡¯t aware of one. If I could speak with the mistress about the payment, as it will be somewhat costly to get the materials.¡±

    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s not feeling well. In fact, the wind gave her a deathly chill last night. She is resting and wishes not to be disturbed.¡±

    ¡°In that case, I wish her well. Take good care of her, young one. Good care,¡± he winked, turning away to hobble off.

    When Abe came out from hiding, he said, ¡°A murderous storm that pushed a knife into an old lady, tsk. It will be hard to explain that.¡±

    ¡°Yes. We must prepare to leave right away. Let¡¯s go to town and buy some supplies,¡± Piro said quickly as she hurried to the old lady¡¯s private chamber. She looked through the drawers until she found what she was looking for: a heavy purse filled with coin. Although Piro was descended from wealth, it had mostly been squandered by the time she had become of age and during her travels she had never seen so much precious metal in one place. It was a small fortune. She also found boxes of jewels and paper script from places she did not recognize.

    ¡°Enough to fund my future army?¡± Abe snickered. Startled, Piro gathered the treasure into her arms. He put up his hands in a conciliatory manner, ¡°I shall make you the royal accountant. Keep it. Quite a jump, from slave to a royal counselor. Well, not much of a kingdom, but I assume I was supposed to create one.¡±

    She stammered, ¡°I pledged my service to you. Yes, I will hold the treasury for now until a suitable replacement has been made. I apologize for such a humble beginning¡­¡±

    ¡°Honestly, it sounds mad to me. Perhaps there was a mistake in the ritual, but since you are the only person I know in this world we may as travel together for a while until matters seem clearer. Where should we go? A king needs a kingdom. In order to have one, I assume there must be some contested land, and soldiers. Without some strong men, and women of course, a king cannot hold a demesne, or even the spot he stands on.¡±

    Something about the man¡¯s carefree attitude reassured Piro that she was making the right choice in keeping his company. She hadn¡¯t felt any hope or even the glimmer of it for a long, long time. Justice, that is what the old witch had claimed. This ugly, unfair, world could use some of it, she thought. Honestly, she had no real belief that following the stranger would lead to anything except death, but she had nothing to lose and no place called home anymore. They were not safe in this town, as the law of the land demanded harsh, and swift, retribution for runaway slaves and suspected thieves. Their judge and jury would surely not belabor the finer points that would exonerate them. Piro wrinkled her nose: if there was justice, she would not have ended up in this forsaken land.

    ¡°We¡¯ll use some of this money to get you a pair of good boots, better fitting trousers, supplies, and some kind of pack gear. There is a city down the river where we can try our luck. From what I have learned, this territory is an ungoverned border between kingdoms. Warlords and chiefs vie for bits of it, but that is all. We could hire a boat to take use down river.¡±

    She carefully split up the coin and jewels, secreting them into various pockets and seams of her clothes. The remainder she kept in a money pouch she wore around her neck. It settled with a hefty clunk onto her chest. There were few weapons for self-defense in the house, but she found a knife, not the ceremonial one which she had removed from the dead woman¡¯s body and put away upstairs (something about it had still felt foul). Abe found a walking stick made from driftwood. He said, ¡°A fine staff. I shall add something to the top and turn it into a scepter.¡±

    He was a strange one, but his continued geniality settled Piro¡¯s nerves.

    When they stepped out of the mansion for the first time, Piro couldn¡¯t help but think that it would be the last time she¡¯d ever see the place.

    She wasn¡¯t wrong.

    <hr>

    From the memoirs of L.C. Sydney, Historian:

    I saw her for the last time in the summer palace, the last holdfast against the grim tide that swept the land. Christian, her brother, had begged her not to accede to the terms of surrender. There was no changing her mind, and we loved her for it. Her resplendant glory was undiminished despite all the defeat and betrayel that lay behind her, and, yet,  there was much more to come.

    Oh, the enemy kept their promise, sparing much of the people from the scourge, but not the last matriarch of the old order, nor her elite Virgin guard. How proud they had looked, on their white chargers, armored in their best, glowing in the light as if blessed by the Sacred Goddess. With their long necks held straight, the Mystic Order escorted the young matronesse to her final sacrifice.

    On the ship to the Bitter Islands, we, the few who could or would escape, had wept at all that we had lost, at how our homeland had so easily been despoiled. They tore down the visages of our Goddess, defiled the temples, and raised totems to their vile emperor. Who knows what repulsive rituals are now practiced in the tenements of our forsaken people? What foul debauchery despoils the land, giving forth an unimaginable horror?

    I fear that a terrible, eternal, darkness has fallen upon us. The pallid night has turned into an abyss from which we shall never escape.

 Chapter 2: Going South

    Piro had just managed to buy most of their gear when they bumped into Mrs. Gong, the owner of the mansion and quite a bit of other property in the town. Bespectacled, the septuagenarian was still sharp despite her advanced years. She looked them up and down suspiciously, ¡°I heard there was some damage to my property. I expect compensation. Where is your mistress?¡±

    Piro stammered, ¡°She sent us to town to buy some equipment and clothes. We plan on traveling, on business.¡±

    ¡°After all this time? Well, I¡¯ll have to pay her a visit this afternoon,¡± Mrs. Gong remarked. ¡°I haven¡¯t been introduced to the young man?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s just a traveler, a guest, for the moment. His name is Abe,¡± she began.

    ¡°Abe? What type of foolish name is that? Where are you from, young man? I know everything that goes on in this town, and I haven¡¯t heard of any recent travelers. I¡¯ll have to have a word with the watchmen.¡±

    He bowed, ¡°I am known as Abraham of the Judes, it is a far tribe of wanderers who are not known well here.¡± Piro eyed him for a moment, as this was news to her as well.

    ¡°Of course,¡± the elder woman pretended to know. ¡°Beyond the sea of sand, in the East, there are supposed to be nomadic tribes. You¡¯ve come far, join us for tea at the house after your shopping.¡±

    Once she had left, Abe whispered, ¡°Old fart has no idea what I was talking about.¡±

    ¡°Who are the Judes? Why didn¡¯t you-¡°

    ¡°I made it up. Though Abraham is correct,¡± he said.

    ¡°I thought you were King Oberon, and Abe was just a nickname?¡±

    ¡°Like I said, maybe someone made a big mistake.¡±

    She seemed to accept that it wasn¡¯t a good time to delve deeper into this. Besides, she preferred calling him Abe.

    Abe hunched up the pack with their supplies. He had a new heavy overcoat that went to his knees as well as a fine pair of walking boots that was the most expensive item in his ensemble. Piro herself had acquired better foot ware and a decent coat, one with a fur-lined hood. Abe had bought a fur hat that she thought looked silly but it did the job. Despite the turning of the weather, the mountains would be freezing and a spring storm could still bring snows or icy rain.

    Piro tried to push Abe to hurry, but he had one more stop.

    She exclaimed, ¡°We need to leave, before Mrs. Gong discovers that the mistress is dead. They¡¯ll put us to the question if they get suspicious and the constables of this town do not ask nicely.¡±

    He sighed, ¡°Slavery, torture. How medieval. But we need some more things. A proper adventure requires proper outfitting.¡±

    The place he pointed out was a weapon shop. There were the usual knives and blades on display, but the would be King stepped right up to the case with firearms.

    ¡°A man of discerning taste I see,¡± the proprietor exclaimed, jumping up from his book. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since we¡¯ve had a good customer, and I can see I have one. I know because your eyes went straight to the best item in the shop.¡± He pulled out the set of revolvers from the display case.

    ¡°Sweet. I didn¡¯t expect a place like this to carry good armament,¡± Abe said as he handled the weapons. He spun the chambers and checked the action. Expertly, he disassembled the parts so that he could examine the bore. ¡°The tolerances are excellent. This has been made by a master craftsman with fine machinery.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the proprietor rubbed his hands. ¡°These are from the gun shops of Azure, the finest on the continent. We normally don¡¯t get these here but a trader brought them a couple summers ago. They¡¯re fine pieces but difficult to sell. The average trapper or farmhand does not need such things. Hard currency only, no paper, though base metals are acceptable if their purity is good. Are you interested in the pair?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take them, as much ammo as you got, and these items.¡± He pointed to a belt holster, a bandolier with pouches to hold ammunition and accessories, and a leather under arm holster. The owner threw in a cleaning kit for free.

    Piro paled when she heard the price, ¡°Do you really need those?¡±

    ¡°Look, who knows what we¡¯ll face out there, a good set of guns will be more than useful. Besides, I¡¯m not a fighter and swords do not suit me. These will be the signifier of my authority.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you insist,¡± she said. ¡°Then I will take this blade for myself. I can¡¯t serve if I can¡¯tfight on my own."

    The price of the items reduced a large amount of the weight from the pouch around Piro¡¯s neck. Reluctantly, she handed over the amount in silver coins. The seller checked the currency, seeming pleased by what he found. He folded up a written receipt with the items, smiling, ¡°My pleasure to serve. Please come again.¡±

    Outfitted, the two stepped out with a fresh strut to their step. Even Piro, who had gone an age without a weapon, felt somewhat different now that she had a sword at her side once more. It wasn¡¯t the type she was used to from her home, but it would work.

    ¡°We should eat, then head to the docks. There is a boat available for the trip south,¡± she said. They found an open air food stall and ordered some plates of food and ale. It was simple but hearty fare.

    Between mouthfuls Piro said, ¡°I can stitch a banner and sigil for us. I¡¯ll use the two pistols.¡±

    ¡°Sounds perfect,¡± he grinned, downing his ale. ¡°And we¡¯re the two pistols of the new kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Have you given thought to a name, yet?¡± Piro asked him hopefully.

    ¡°Maybe we should make a name for ourselves first.¡± They made a toast to this goal.

    Full of food and a bit buzzed, the two finally made it to the docks. However, the boat¡¯s master shook his head, arms folded. He glared at them, ¡°Sorry, no passengers today.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Piro exclaimed. ¡°I called ahead with a runner, paid a deposit for the trip.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t know anything about that. I got a full load, no room for passengers. Take it up with your runner, maybe he grifted you.¡±

    ¡°But the boat¡¯s not even full!¡± Piro almost shouted, pointing. Indeed, the wooden boat was barely loaded with any goods. Despite its small size, there was plenty of room for more people.

    ¡°I got a cart full of goods for the south coming up. I don¡¯t like it when people doubt my word,¡± the man scowled, hand next to an iron cudgel strapped to his belt.

    Abe shook his head, pulling Piro back, ¡°It¡¯s not worth it. Let¡¯s find another way.¡±

    The horse traders were not friendly either. In fact, no one would sell them a ride, not even a pack mule.

    Abe rubbed his hairy chin, thinking, ¡°All this happened after we met Mrs. Gong.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. She has eyes and ears everywhere. We¡¯ll have to find the road south before they block it. It¡¯s a good thing we got to the weapon shop before it was closed too.¡±

    Trying to avoid the main streets, they furtively made it out of the town, hopefully avoiding the eyes of the watchmen but as soon as they neared the woods they could see men near the south road. Four men on horses galloped up, blocking their way to the forest. Although not drawn yet, two of them possessed long guns while the others had hand guns, crude ones capable of one or two rounds of ball shot.

    ¡°Mrs. Gong is expecting you for tea,¡± the leader said. He was a small man but his hand was on the handle of his pistol and his eyes indicated he sanctioned no grace for them. ¡°She doesn¡¯t like people to break their engagements, especially without paying her some respects.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    The other men looked stern, but Piro felt that they were not seasoned fighters. They might scare off with a show of force. Piro stepped forward, hand on the hilt of her own sword, ¡°Let us be. We can pay you to let us go.¡±

    He shook his head, ¡°You¡¯re just a servant, lass. We don¡¯t make deals with servants, and in either case, Mrs. Gong would have our heads.¡±

    ¡°Then, you can deal with me,¡± Abe stepped up, pushing Piro behind him.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± the leader asked.

    ¡°King Abraham of No Land, ¡° he said, teeth showing. ¡°Grant us passage and I will remember you when I establish my kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Quit stalling, or I¡¯ll shoot your servant girl,¡± the leader barked, losing his patience. His hand moved to pull the gun from his belt. Before he could finish the motion, Abe had pulled his own gun from his holster. During the conversation, he¡¯d let his coat open up so he could have freedom to grasp the weapon from his own belt holster.

    Without hesitation, Abe fired six shots from the pistol in quick succession. One round appeared to be fatal as the leader immediately slumped and fell from the saddle as the horse bucked, running off. Another round either grazed or hurt the second man¡¯s horse causing it to startle. The other two men panicked, turning tail to gain distance although the rest of Abe¡¯s shots had gone wild. Piro drew her sword, slashing at the second man before he could gain control of his horse and pull his own pistol. Cursing, he managed to gallop away though he had a long gash on his arm from Piro¡¯s sword. Thick clouds of burned powder filled the air with their smell.

    ¡°Into to the woods!¡± Abe shouted, putting his spent gun away and pulling out the other. They ran just in time, as the panicked men had regained some composure. They pulled their long guns from their saddle holsters and began firing, but their aim was poor. The wounded man pulled up next to them, shouting and waving his own hand gun, firing it pointlessly.

    The two kept running until they were out of breath and could run no more. By that time they had tumbled recklessly into the deep woods. Snow was still on the ground, making it much harder. Exhausted, they found a fallen tree for partial cover in the underbrush.

    ¡°Can you hear anything?¡± Abe asked, he was already reloading his empty gun. He botched the first load, but with diligence he managed to successfully (or so he hoped) charge all the cylinders with fresh powder and lead bullets. He carefully placed the small primer caps so he wouldn''t accidentally let one fall into the forest floor and become lost. ¡°Not a bad showing, I¡¯d say. Might need some embellishment for the songs and story books. Our first skirmish together. Wish I had a cigar and a poncho though.¡±

    Piro couldn¡¯t help but make an adrenaline spiked giggle, ¡°If they¡¯re coming after us, I can¡¯t tell. Sush for a moment.¡± She stared at the dried blood on her weapon. The first time she¡¯d swung one in anger since the bad days. She shook her head, trying not to remember.

    The woods were silent except for some distant bird calls and the wind. When Abe clicked his gun¡¯s cylinder shut, the sound was sharp in her ears.

    ¡°We can¡¯t stay here long, but I don¡¯t think they came after us,¡± she said. ¡°Now, I wish I had a bow.¡±

    ¡°I can teach you to shoot,¡± Abe offered, his heart beat finally down to a reasonable level. He eyed his gun. ¡°Though I¡¯m going to have to check each round. They all fired but the quality of powder seems suspect.¡±

    After catching their breath, they headed out in what Piro believed to be a southerly direction. Abe himself appeared to have no woodsman skills. As night fell, they found some shelter against a rock face that partially blocked the wind. They weren¡¯t packed for a real camp out and their supplies would not be sufficient for more than a couple days.

    ¡°We should start a fire,¡± Piro said.

    ¡°Won¡¯t it attract any searchers?¡± worried Abe.

    ¡°We can share the fur blanket I got then, but we¡¯re at risk without a fire or shelter. We should start walking again as soon as there is light.¡±

    ¡°How do you feel, sleeping next to a murderer?¡± He said, half-jokingly. He hadn''t stopped to confirm that Gong''s man had actually expired but his survival seemed unlikely.

    ¡°You only did what was necessary. The man was drawing first. If he did pass, the great cycle will begin again, perhaps he will be more cautious in his next life.¡±

    Abe didn¡¯t express his puzzlement at Piro¡¯s religious beliefs. He¡¯d ask more about it some other day.

    They huddled together under the blanket. Abe threw a muffler on to cover his face while Piro secured her hood. They shared some cooked sweet potatoes she had bought from a stall. Piro had intended for one them to keep watch but neither of them were able to stay awake at all times. They dozed as the chill settled in during the darkness. Piro curled up, shoving her arms under Abe¡¯s coat to find his warmth. At one point, their faces ended up close together. Her nose was cold, pressed up against his cheek. He wanted to kiss her, but the timing didn¡¯t seem quite right so he just watched her doze. His cheeks were red, and it wasn''t just from the exposure.

    Groaning, Abe got up as the sky grew lighter at last. Piro moaned but managed to wake as well.

    ¡°Well, that was a terrible night¡¯s sleep,¡± he said, trying to warm himself up. ¡°Come on, time for a morning stretch.¡±

    Piro tried to rub life into her calves as Abe made running in place motions.

    There was no sign of pursuit that morning or the rest of the day.

    ¡°Probably not worth it for them,¡± Piro suggested. ¡°Mrs. Gong is wealthy but not the only authority in town. Her men probably will only go as far as her money and it doesn¡¯t stretch much farther than the lake area.¡±

    They walked downhill until the snow thinned and they soon found the south road. It was dirt and mud, rutted by wagon wheels, but it was better than the woods. They still planned on hiding if they met any travelers but the road was mostly empty.

    They only had to scramble a couple times to allow the passage of wagons. So far, they were the only ones on foot. Most travelers would prefer the river as it was fairly easy to navigate with only a few rough spots unless a storm caused it to overflow.

    On their occassional breaks, they would chat, with Piro trying to pry more information about him.

    ¡°How did you learn to shoot?¡±

    ¡°Something I picked up,¡± he said. ¡°You seem trained with a blade. Did you do a lot of fighting?¡±

    Each time she pressed, he would deflect, but she decided there was no rush. She answered, ¡°It is tradition, in my home, to learn the ways of the warrior arts. I¡¯m not an expert, but I can do the basics. I need that much if I am to be your bodyguard.¡±

    ¡°I thought you were my treasurer,¡± he laughed.

    ¡°Until we have more people, I have to take all the jobs. Including hunting, I assume. I will make a simple sling. The woods have small animals we can get for meat.¡±

    ¡°Ya, you got me. I can fish, if we can make a rod or buy one.¡±

    ¡°A spear or two would be more useful.¡±

    ¡°How much further to the city?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. There are more outposts and towns down river, so we can ask. On foot, I¡¯d guess at least a few days, if not more. If we can find a ride, the journey would be much faster.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s kind of nice, just the two of us,¡± he winked. She blushed.

    The second night, shehad a chance to build fire. Not far from the road, they found a ramblingshelter dug into the side of the hill that blocked much, but not all of the wind. It looked like it had been used often as a travelers waystation as there were old burnt stones that formed a good fire pit. She found a spot nearby for them to do their other business.

    ¡°This is nice,¡± he said, warming his hands around the fire. She showed him how to gather kindling from the surrounding brush and soon they had a decent supply, though not enough to go the entire night.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go find more fuel, try whittling a spear or two. A snare or trap would be useful as well, but I guess you don¡¯t know how to make those either,¡± she tossed some branches toward him. He used a knife to trim them as she¡¯d taught. If necessary, he¡¯d shoot a buck or something if he spotted one, but the animals were all small. Any large game hadn¡¯t made an appearance, not that Abe would have any idea how to track one.

    As the sun set, he became worried, but Piro returned with a stack of wood tied to her back, and a pair of some unnamed rodents on her belt. Looking pleased, she put the wood in their reserve pile and began preparing their dinner. Abe watched as she expertly skinned and gutted the prey, and used the sticks he¡¯d prepared to spit them and put the meat over the fire.

    ¡°It¡¯s was easier catching them without your big feet trampling about,¡± she said, salting the meat with some packets from their supplies. She¡¯d worried she¡¯d lost her old skills during the months of captivity and servitude, but she¡¯d easily gone back to her ways.

    Their second night together was much better than the first. With a fire and full bellies, they snuggled under the blanket once more. Once again, her nose was pressed up against his cheek. Abe couldn¡¯t help himself. When his mouth met hers, she responded hungrily.

    ¡°I was wondering how long it would take you,¡± she said, as their tongues danced with each other.

    He pulled away for a moment, asking, ¡°Are you sure this is all right? Taking advantage of an underling is frowned upon where I come from¡­¡±

    ¡°It is my duty, to serve, and your duty to take,¡± she replied, pulling open his blouse and nibbling on his chest before he could object further.

    ¡°Well, if you put it that way, I guess I won¡¯t argue the point.¡±

    Quickly, they were undressed under the fur blanket. He stretched his large coat over it, but during their lovemaking it got tossed aside. They made enough heat together under the blanket as their loins were finally joined. If she noticed the smell from their unwashed bodies, she didn¡¯t mention it. He certainly wasn¡¯t going to complain.

    He noticed her grimace at first, but there was less blood than he expected. If she was uncomfortable, she was more practical about it than he was.

    At one point, he warned, ¡°Hey, we don¡¯t have any protection.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I have my sword nearby, but it is a risk.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean from babies. Though that sounds wrong put like that,¡± he giggled.

    ¡°Ah, this time should be safe, though having a child of a king should be an honor,¡± she replied, her arms around his head as he suckled on her bosom. During the night, she put on his coat to replenish the fire. Between the time she took it off and returned to him, he admired the flash of her skin in the fire¡¯s light. Her breasts were small but bounced cheerfully as she squirmed back under the covers with him. He pulled her on top of him and she let him slide into her once more.

    ¡°You are my first, and only, mistress of the new world,¡± he said, looking into her almond eyes. She looked at him, puzzled. He brushed her raven hair, longer now, though not as long as they would become, or had been long ago.

    She said, ¡°It would be selfish of me to keep a king all to myself, but I am glad to be first.¡±

    ¡°And I am glad I was yours. Shall I make you a queen?¡±

    Piro dug her head into his chest, shaking her head, ¡°Let¡¯s not make titles just yet. For now, I am happy as things are, my liege.¡±

    She, of course, never told him she was already a princess, and by rights a queen, in a far off land. It didn¡¯t matter anymore, and it never did later.

 Chapter 3: On the Run

    When a sudden squall drenched her exposed face with sleety rain, Senua Gong tried not to let her irritation show. At least her oilcloth duster kept most of the moisture away from her body. Her grandmother had insisted she lead the search to capture the two fugitives who had seriously wounded one of their captains and murdered a valuable tenant, albeit a frightening one, if the rumors were true.

    Worse than that, a search of the manor had determined that any valuables held by the witchy woman had been pilfered. By rights, Mrs. Gong considered any assets of the deceased to have ceded to her, so removal of such was considered theft.

    Captain Jan had apologized profusely for his failure despite being in his deathbed, as he was not expected to survive much longer from the gunshot that had felled him. His men had went on ahead down the river trail, while Senua, who had never picked up any fondness for horses, led a team of twigs on foot to track the miscreants down.

    Being half-twig herself did not stop her from despising the cretinous demi-humans. She¡¯d inherited their thin frame, slender height, and more of their nature than she wished to admit. Her squad consisted of herself, a lead tracker, and three bowmen for additional security.

    They moved swiftly, like wraiths, through the forest with Senua managing to keep up, hiding her fatigue and discomfort. She hated the way they seemed to be able to communicate with just their eyes or subtle hand-gestures. She knew the lead tracker, a male named Leaves, coveted her flesh. Senua swore she¡¯d cut him if he laid eyes on her chest one more time. Her ample bosom was a gift from her human mother, or a curse, depending on how one looked at it. Currently, she had them bound so they would not interfere with her movements.

    Leaves grunted, ¡°From the signs, we are already close upon them. The man is slow.¡± Even Senua, who was not a tracker, could see the fresh footprint from a man¡¯s boot in the soft ground.

    They had lost much time gathering the twigs together as they had been deep in the high country in various occupations (they tended to be quite solitary as a rule), but the outriders would be well ahead by now. If Senua¡¯s team did not capture the two miscreants first, the men would lie in wait further down the trail, as there were few outposts until the city of Hopken downriver. The high peaks on both sides of the river were nearly impassible without expertise. If they somehow doubled back upriver, the region around the lakes was Mrs. Gong¡¯s web with her in the middle. Word would quickly spread in that case.

    Senua smiled angrily: they would not escape. The slave girl was not considered important, so she¡¯d enjoy applying justice to her slowly. It was the least that Senua deserved for having to leave her cozy cottage for this miserable forest with these miserable shifty eyed twigs for company. Her ears perked¡ªthe bastards were probably whispering about her to each other.

    Their kind was almost extinct out in these territories, as the humans and other demi-human tribes had outcompeted them for several generations. Their blood would live on, she supposed, though she cursed her late mother for having laid with one of them. If it meant she cursed her own existence, so be it.

    <hr>

    Piro checked their supplies with a worried frown on her face. The mountains were harsh and they were not properly provisioned or equipped for a long trek. Still, Abe assumed that he would remember these times as the happiest of his life, although Piro would superstitiously shush him if he happened to mention it aloud.

    A cold snap brought more harsh weather to the mountains and they sat huddled around a meager fire, hungry and exhausted. Piro sat staring at nothing as Abe tried to keep things light. The sky was grey, letting loose an occasional sleety drizzle.

    Ignoring whatever he had been bantering about, she announced suddenly as if something had added up in her brain, ¡°We need to go back to the main trail.¡±

    ¡°Eh?¡± Abe sputtered, immediately forgetting what he had been saying moments ago.

    At one point, they had decided to go higher up into the forest to avoid detection on the road. Piro was now having second thoughts about this plan.

    ¡°Despite the risk we need to find help from other travelers. The game I can find is just not enough. Or we can resort to banditry if necessary. It will be for the cause.¡±

    ¡°Cause? Oh, the kingdom, sure,¡± he replied. By this time, she was talking more about it than he was. He¡¯d try to switch the conversation away from it to lighter things, but time and again she brought it up, almost as if she had a religious fervor. ¡°I never thought of myself as some cult leader or anything, but I guess I have my first true believer.¡±

    Piro stood up suddenly, gathering their gear and stamping out the fire. He hurriedly slung his own pack over his shoulder. At least it was lighter now. As she walked ahead, he watched her, absently admiring the swish of her raven hair. She¡¯d tied it back, and kept her hood down so she could see and hear better, but it always seemed anxious to spring loose and fly away in the wind.

    They trekked in silence, too tired to talk much now, feet crackling in the underbrush though he was much louder than she was as she somehow managed to step lightly. At one point, she stopped, head turning as if on a swivel.

    She said, ¡°I think there is someone out there. We¡¯re being shadowed.¡±

    Abe, of course, had sensed nothing. He looked around, ¡°Do you think they are friend or foe?¡±

    She put a hand to the hilt of her sword, ¡°Be ready, just in case, but I have a feeling if they had wanted to surprise us they could have so I think they are not out there to kill us. If they were, I think we¡¯d be dead already.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    This remark did little to comfort Abe but they could nothing to push on down the slope toward the river. At least it was mostly downhill for now, he thought. They found the riverside road not too long after Piro had noticed the mysterious presence. She no longer sensed that anyone was stalking them. For now, they pressed on down the rutted old trail. Sooner than expected, they met a traveler on a mule driven wagon. He had a young boy with him and while both were armed with blunderbusses (the kind that looked somewhat cartoonish), they showed no sign of hostility.

    Piro spoke to them, offering coin for food. Even if this was unnecessary, Piro had some amount of pride in her, left over from childhood lessons about debts and how the family preferred not to incur them, if possible, and strove to repay them promptly and fully if unavoidably incurred. Their eyes brightened when they saw the flash of coin and they readily shared their rations, which included some smoked meats, hard bread and even a jug of wine as well as a sack of mixed dried food that included nuts and fruits. It was basic traveler¡¯s fare but Piro accepted the items eagerly. Abe was already chewing on a hunk of cured venison. The wagon was hauling tools and sundries to the villages up in the mountains as well as Bowl Lake. The older man spoke mostly to Abe, though his eyes glanced at the girl with questions that he kept to himself.

    Feeling better, Abe thanked the old mule-skinner who tipped his hat and continued on his way. The boy stared back at them for a smirk on his face, as if he knew something.

    Abe popped the trail mix into his mouth and talked with his mouth open, energized by the food, ¡°Didn¡¯t think stale pine nuts would be so tasty. Wish they had something for the bread though, like a jam. Some cheese would have been great too.¡±

    Piro was glad that his spirits were up. She climbed down the bank to the river to fill up a water skin. Instead of taking the heavy jug, Abe had filled his spare skin with the wine. He sipped from the full bag happily.

    He said, ¡°According to the old man, we¡¯re only another day or so from the next town, though it¡¯s not the big city. Maybe we can get a bed and some hot food, plus I¡¯d like a bath. You¡¯ll scrub my back, right?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± she sighed. ¡°Master.¡± Ever since she had expressed her fealty to him, Abe had made light of it. She wondered if he realized that her vow was a solemn one.

    Later, Piro would blame herself for being caught off guard. The horsemen, about a half-dozen of them, were much closer than they should have been before she had noticed them as they turned the bend of the river gorge.

    Cursing, she pushed Abe who had been in one of his thoughtful dazes, and yelled, ¡°Run! Back to the trees!¡± They had been complacent from their full bellies.

    The men shouted, kicking their horses into a gallop to give chase.

    Gasping for breath as they climbed back up through the underbrush into the thick woods, they lost sight of the pursuers; however they could hear shouts behind them. Abe panted, ¡°That kid knew and didn¡¯t warn us. I guess you can¡¯t trust anyone these days.¡±

    Piro nodded. She assumed that the mule-skinner and his boy had encountered the riders, probably hired by old lady Gong, as they searched the trail.

    They had to stop for a moment to catch their breath due to the difficulty of the terrain. They heard the crack of the round before the sound of the gun firing. It was not accurate but close enough for them to duck before continuing their climb. Abe thought of firing back at them but Piro shook her head, motioning for him to hurry.

    There were more crackles of gunfire but few of the shots had any effect though one splintered a tree trunk several yards from them as they scrambled madly.

    ¡°Ha,¡± Abe grunted, throat dry and sore from the effort. ¡°At least they are terrible shots. Wish I had gotten a long gun though, they¡¯re still too far away for my babies to be much use.¡± He patted his holster. Still, he felt reassured by the weight of the weapons at his side.

    Piro assumed they were coming at them on foot as the ground was very steep and broken up with large boulders. They kept going higher, practically climbing with hands and feet on nearly vertical stretches. The bones of the mountain seemed to be poking out by this point and the trees had thinned out and grew stubbier now that they were above the bulk of the woods. It also meant they were more exposed. Fortunately, they turned into a fold on the mountainside that partially blocked line of sight. They stumbled back downhill for a while as it was impossible to go higher up the steep, exposed side.

    Abe called for a break, exhausted. They huddled in some brush, protected by jagged outcroppings of rock. After catching his breath, Abe couldn¡¯t help but take a peek.

    ¡°Gods be damned, they¡¯re still coming. They¡¯re on the ridge we just passed. We can¡¯t stay here,¡± he tugged her along. This time it was Piro was slow to react. Her muscles ached and she wished she was somewhere warm and flat.

    ¡°Now, I know why I hate the mountains,¡± she said, remembering better times in her long-lost valley of home. Abe hadn¡¯t delved too deeply into her past, and she had not offered. They both left things hidden or unspoken. The crumbling mountainside forced them to continue back downhill which made progress easier but it also meant that their pursuers had a clear path for tracking them. Somehow, they got switched around and Piro realized that their enemy was now above them and they had been working back underneath them.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Master, but I am doing a terrible job as your bodyguard and scout,¡± she said bitterly, at her own failure.

    He grinned despite their desperate situation, ¡°That¡¯s fine, you¡¯ve been doing excellent as the royal bed warmer.¡± She punched him in the arm, but the moment did not last as they heard the voices of their pursuers, loud and sharp as if they were practically on top of them. Only the heavy underbrush kept them from being spotted immediately.

    Abe pulled out a pistol, cocking the hammer back. He tried to keep it from getting hung up on branches as they tried to move quickly but silently back into the heart of the woods. He felt a bit better back under the canopy but their luck ran out as they heard crashing behind them and a volley of fire. They found a stony bulge, thick with brush, and hid behind it for cover as metal slugs danced around them. Abe fired back, trying to keep the enemies heads down.

    Piro pulled her sword out but it would do little good in an open gun battle. Perhaps when they paused for reload, she¡¯d have a chance to ambush one of them.

    ¡°They¡¯re going to pincer us soon enough,¡± Abe said grimly. He couldn¡¯t cover both sides of the rock on his own. He had both guns out now, aiming in two directions at once. He wasn¡¯t trying for a kill shot at this point, just making the enemy stay honest by firing wherever he sensed movement. The two probably had moments before they¡¯d be flanked on both sides, and he guessed he might be able to get one or two but they were severely outnumbered.

    He heard a scream. Had he gotten a lucky hit? But he hadn¡¯t fired in several moments. More gunfire erupted and terrible screaming followed. Someone burst through, running, past him. Instinctively, he fired, hitting the fleeing man in the back. The unlucky soul fell in a heap. Abe must have hit him in a vital, perhaps his spine. He lay face down and didn¡¯t move again.

    The screams stopped after a few moments, except for some sobbing which turned into the sounds of a man begging for his life, a short cough or perhaps a yelp, then nothing. Piro scrambled up the rock to peer over the other side. Her eyes widened. Curious, Abe peered over to see as well. He exclaimed, ¡°Holy Rivendell, elves.¡±

 Chapter 4: Blood on the Mountain

    Of course, they did not call themselves twigsbut simply the ¡°People¡± in their own language. This meant that others who were not of the people did not really have any status. Half-breeds such as Senua lived in a twilit existence made even more complicated by the face that she was in command. Thus, the squad followed her orders but did so without the any form of deference or respect. This feeling was mutual.

    The mood of the three bowmen gradually turned more sour as they had closed upon their prey. Finally, Senua snapped, ¡°What is the problem now? Once we¡¯re done with this business they can return to their coven or whatever it is they do up in the deep wood.¡±

    Leaves gave her a baleful stare, ¡°If you had been properly raised, you would know from the signs that this territory belongs to the Mountain Clan.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I am here, as I have a writ of passage they treated with my grandmother.¡±

    He shook his head, as an elder admonishing a child, ¡°Such things have little worth out here in the wilds. They will gut us and take you for a prize if they had the chance. We must do this quickly. The men will abandon the hunt this night. This place stinks of the clan.¡±

    They had followed the trail of the two fugitives to the river road which was the boundary of the clan territory. Senua noted that the tension did ease the closer they got to the river, which was considered neutral territory. They kept to the fringes of the forest with the bowmen climbing high in order to give watch whenever they paused. Light of feet, the twigscarried the traditional long bows of the People who eschewed iron and the technology of the humans. Senua herself did not like the smell of metal either, but she kept a pistol for self-defense. Both Senua and Leaves primary weapons were long knives made from the tusks of the great boar including a set of poisoned barbs for throwing.

    One of the bowmen signed a message down to them. Leaves translated, ¡°Men on horse. At least six.¡±

    Senua smiled, ¡°It must be Jan¡¯s men.¡± When she moved to step out of the trees, Leaves held her back. She brushed off his hand, angered by his touch.

    He shook his head, ¡°We must be wary. Do not assume anything.¡± Senua was wise enough to listen despite her impatience. Nodding despite her frustration, she waited until she could see the men clearly. Her vision wasn¡¯t as good as the others, but she could see much farther than a normal human.

    One of the men were indeed from Jan¡¯s crew but the rest wore the colors of the Company. She hissed, ¡°Traitors. They sold out to the mercenaries.¡± Leaves spat. With the odds not in their favor, they would have to retreat, but when he moved to wave his men back he was surprised by Senua¡¯s command, ¡°We follow.¡±

    When she saw the objection in his eyes, she continued, ¡°Or are the menfolk of the People only cowards now?¡±

    A direct challenge like this would not always work, but Leaves eyes hardened. He responded, with coldness in his voice, ¡°Then we go.¡±

    They lurked behind the other pursuers who were completely oblivious that they were also being hunted. The horses were kept in the care of one man who was quickly relieved of his duty by Leaves who cut his throat as soon as the rest had rushed ahead.

    Senua didn¡¯t need the tracker to follow the noise of gunfire and men crashing through the underbrush. With the odds being better, the bowmen gained some confidence as they shadowed the five Company men, including the turncoat.

    When Leaves had caught up, the Company men had the two fugitives cornered. Brimming with confidence, the men toyed with their prey who had taken shelter behind a large boulder. Their amusement would only last for a short while. The bowmen took three down in an instant, although one managed to fire wildly warning the other two who quickly realized that they faced a new threat.

    Despite their skill, the bowmen could not face bullets directly, so they faded back as the two remaining men fired volleys after them. One man held two revolvers, shooting rapidly in succession. The twigs were not hit although the rounds thudded dangerously close, hitting the tree trunks, sending splinters everywhere.

    The thick smoke from the gunpowder did not help the Company men who peered about trying to find the source of the threat.

    As they were distracted, Leaves jumped up from cover to throw one of his slim poisoned knives into the side of one of the survivors. Eyes white in fear, the wounded man turned and ran from the field, crashing through an elderberry bush. Senua heard another shot. Either way, the man was not long for this world.

    Desperately focused on reloading, the final man did not immediately notice Senua as she made her appearance, holding her own pistol at the ready.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Casually, she shot him in the leg. Shrieking, he fell to one knee,dropping his weapons in order to clutch at the crushing wound that had probably smashed bone. She hadn¡¯t been trying for that, but it worked to make him surrender immediately. He recognized her, ¡°Please, I¡¯ll give up my share. We just wanted to split the coin. You know how cheap your grandmother is.¡±

    She nodded, ¡°She is, the old shrew.¡± Leaves came up, holding his long knife, white bone gleaming in the shattered light. ¡°Norbor, was your name?¡±

    He nodded, ¡°Yes, missy. I worked with Jan, even gave you lessons with that gun.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason to bring justice to oath-breakers,¡± she growled, nodding to Leaves who quickly finished the quivering man off with a swift stroke. He grabbed at the gaping wound in his throat with horror, and perhaps acceptance, as he collapsed. With that, what few hopes he had in this life were extinguished.

    Senua had never killed anyone before, but giving the order was close enough, she supposed. Leaves made sure the rest were finished off. The bowmen cut out their arrows from the corpses. They could carve new shafts but the special enchanted tips were quite valuable. Senua felt the eyes of their two prey upon them. She turned to return their gazes, and smiled.

    <hr>

    From the memoirs of L.C. Sydney, Historian:

    I know little of what happened toour fair Rose after the fall of the Spring Palace and the scourge of the Sage Protectorateexcept from hearsay and reports from travelers as only scraps of writing ever escapes the borders of the Demon Empirethese days. They may have not officially changed the name, but I cannot call it by any other than what it has become: an empire of devils, for devils. As for the stories, I can only imagine certain things, and wonder if the truth is even worse than what I have heard¡­My dear princess, I pray that the rumors are exaggerations, false stories by heated, puerile imaginations. Such an excerpt follows, read at your own peril and dismay. I weep once more...

    She finally opened her eyes. She¡¯d had a terrible dream but it was over now. Yes, this was much better than the images in her head. The hall was vast and vaulted. She didn¡¯t recognize it at first, but she knew it to be the main atrium of the ancient temple of the capital. The stones were older than the Empire itself, founded thousands of years in the past, but the sigils that hung on the walls were all new. They were the banners of the Prophet Emperor, disparagingly called the Black Lord by those who opposed him, who had led the great reformation. It all started coming back to her now. But something was odd.

    Why was she hanging so high? Startled, she looked around herself. She was tied onto some odd wheeled contraption hung from the dome overhead. Lamps flickered, making it hard to see but she became aware of her own nakedness, spread eagle on the frame of iron. Another odd thing, there were metal things sticking out of her flesh. Her heart beat as she realized what they were: spikes. Dried blood had left trails around her wounds but the pain seemed dull and far away. Otherwise, she seemed whole. She almost laughed at herself.

    She¡¯d known something like this fate was possible when she had surrendered, but¡­she shook the terrible images from her head. She¡¯s imagined far worse during the long trek to the capital, escorted by the Emperors soldiers most of the way. The terrible things had come after they had knelt before the Emperor.

    Yes, the Emperor! She thought. Where was he? Her eyes darted furtively. Across from her, hanging from a mirror iron wheel was the corpse of someone she recognized: the fair Princess Darlene of the Valentine Fields, a noble estate of the Five Matriarchs, and her cousin. Her heart sank in despair as she realized that she would most likely be joining the poor wretch. At least it would be over soon. For now, Rosa was the last of the line that stretched back to the original Matriarch and Demi-Goddess of the Waters, Daafene Laurelie. She sighed. Hundreds of generations of continuous reign and she was all that was left of that noble blood. She almost wept.

    Ah, she thought. There he was. In the gloom, sitting cross legged on a raised dais in the very center of the atrium below her, she could see the new august ruler. He was a thin man, almost hairless from head to foot, of undiscernible provenance, certainly not one of the hill peoples he had first been associated with during his quick rise. His skin was olive colored and rippled with cordlike muscles that seemed ready to strike, like snakes. She could not see his eyes but she could feel his gaze upon her. He wore only a thin pair of silk pantaloons. Otherwise, there was nothing regal or unusual about the man, except his presence filled her with a deep discomfort. She would have soiled herself if she wasn¡¯t already empty from doing that much earlier. Hunger was the least of her worries, though she licked her parched lips.

    After a long silence, the Emperor spoke, ¡°So, what do you have to offer me?¡±

    Sheknew that he could only be speaking to her. Her throat raw from previous screaming, she sputtered, ¡°My body¡­¡±

    ¡°I already have that woman, and all your wealth. What do you offer me?¡±

    ¡°I can bear children. Royal children that could cement your claim¨C¡°

    He laughed, harshly, ¡°Bitch, I own all that I wish to claim all ready. All rights now begin with me, as I am the First of my new line. I have a thousand wives already, each who can bear a potential sovereign, if I so choose. Your loins serve me no purpose except for an occasional pleasure, if that.¡±

    ¡°Then you have everything, great ruler,¡± she choked back tears.

    ¡°Bah!¡± He stood up, clapping his hands. ¡°You waste my time. Hang there and really think of what you can offer me. The answer is obvious.¡±

    ¡°But, you have my life, what else can I give?¡±

    He ignored her as a livery arrived, carried by six stunning Amazonian women who wore nothing except some paintings on their slick bodies. Their forms looked like they had been carved by the god¡¯s themselves from some perfect mold. Their muscles rippled as they set down the golden litter. He climbed aboard and settled himself as the women kneeled and lifted the litter onto their shoulders in one clean motion. Eventhe last princess of the old order could not help but admire their athleticism as their oiled buttocks worked in silent unison.

    She was left to her own thoughts once again, and terrible memories.

 Chapter 5: Captives Again

    ¡°We¡¯re in a tight spot,¡± Abe said, glibly. This was one time Piro¡¯s patience ran thin. She gave him a cold glare before turning her eyes to the ground. Their arms were tied behind them while another rope around each of their necks allowed their captors to pull them along as they wound their way back north.

    She¡¯d heard of the sharp eared folk of the deep wood, mythical sprites who were to be avoided. At least she no longer had any chastity to be stolen, but she shivered whenever they looked at her. She especially didn¡¯t like the attitude of the female who seemed to be sizing her up for some nasty business.

    Piro had considered suicide but had been surprised when Abe surrendered immediately. She had to follow despite her reservations. The strange folk had taken all their weapons, rifled through their meager supplies, and confiscated most of their wealth although they had missed some of the gems sewn into her clothes.

    Despite clearly not liking the metallic items, they wrapped up the valuables for carriage. Items could still be exchanged, Piro assumed. The corpses were similarly stripped for anything worth carrying. They spoke in short bursts but mostly did not converse with the prisoners. When they spoke the common tongue, they seemed to despise it, like they were chewing worms.

    Once it was clear they weren¡¯t going to be tortured or killed immediately, Piro began assessing their captors. Physically, they seemed weak, with thin arms and legs that Piro thought could be snapped easily, yet they moved with a confident grace and lifted the heavy packs without sign of strain. All of them were taller than either Piro or Abe, or even the average human of the territory. The woman was the shortest, yet still had a couple inches on Abe. Their strange eyes were the most unusual feature, as well as their slightly elongated ears, but otherwise their features were human enough.

    One of the males was clearly the most dangerous. His wide eyes, strangely luminescent, had a piercing shine that disturbed her, as he always seemed to be aware whenever she turned his attention to him. He had a wicked looking long knife that was as white as bone, and probably was. They were mostly dressed in dull colors of the earth and plants which reminded her of the camouflage uniforms of the elite warriors of her people. The clothes seemed finely woven but much lighter than the items Abe and Piro were wearing. The chill did not seem to bother them.

    Piro envied the bows carried by the scouts who were rarely visible as they ran ahead or stayed hidden in the trees even when they stopped to rest. The weapons were master crafted, she presumed, wishing she had been able to see them in action. It was clear that they were silent and deadly. If they ran, she doubted they¡¯d make it far before an arrow found its way into their backs. Although the three took orders, from what she could discern, they kept to themselves. Perhaps they were from a different tribe, she wondered.

    Finally, the woman was the apparent leader. She had an arrogant curl to her lips that Piro disliked immediately. However, the female ¡°elf¡± as Abe called them was clearly a beauty. Piro could tell that her companion was reacting to it. In contrast to Piro¡¯s deep black locks, the other woman¡¯s hair was like that of spun white gold. Her clothes were more traditionally human but quite expensive, made of tanned leather and fur in multiple layers including a tight bodice that failed to hide her ample chest. Unlike the males, she was full bodied with only her wrists sharing the willowy characteristic of the others. Piro suspected that she was of mixed heritage, as her eyes, while wide, were not the almost alienating ones of the menfolk. The woman¡¯s outfit was completed by a full cloak with a fur-lined hood and a pair of tall boots.

    The men¡¯s feet were shod in some delicate moccasin, further illuminating the difference between them and the woman. From their behavior, it was clear there was no love lost either.

    After a few hours, there was an opportunity for a break, as the trio went ahead, leaving just the two captors. The woman excused herself to take care of her business while the male stood guard. He didn¡¯t seem to care when Abe and Piro decided to talk although it was clear he could hear them. He kept his head turned in the direction of where the woman had gone.

    Piro hissed, ¡°They must have been the presence I felt earlier.¡±

    Abe nodded, ¡°I guess they have the equivalent of the East India Company out here, and the natives aren¡¯t happy about it.¡± When he realized that was just puzzling her, he said, ¡°Basically, hired goons: mercenaries, privatized soldiers. And the elves are Mohicans in this picture though she¡¯s a lot easier on the eyes than Daniel Day Lewis.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± she nodded, although not to the last part. ¡°In my country, those without lords do the same. They work for coin protecting merchants from bandits and such.¡±

    ¡°That reminds me, we never discussed your rates,¡± he joked despite their predicament.

    Piro replied with all candor, ¡°You are my liege, I am bound to you and you to me. My future is under your protection, and grace, if you should give it.¡±

    He sobered a bit, realizing that she was deadly serious.

    Being a captive again, of sorts, meant she had more time to contemplate the past few days. She had been focused on survival too much to think much into things. The fact was, she had been feeling quite lonely and being with Abe had been a great solace: she was using him as much as he was using her. There were a lot of things they did not know about each other. He seemed inordinately playful, even childish, at times, yet at others, she could see his inherent calm, and self-assurance. She didn¡¯t know exactly the moment she had fully vested her entire future, indeed her life, to him, but it had happened.

    The recent bloodshed did not appear to phase him, although, neither did he seem to revel in it. She¡¯d known people who did, and did not trust their type. All in all, she realized that his innate confidence had rubbed off onto her, and this present circumstance did not fill her with dread, at least not as much as it might have under different circumstances.

    When the woman returned, she announced in common, ¡°We will make camp soon before we lose daylight.¡±

    The other shook his head, not pleased, ¡°This is still clan territory, as I warned. It is too dangerous to stop in the mountains, we should find a fort near the river to take shelter for the night.¡± This speech was intended for more than one audience, as his eyes darted to the prisoners.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡°If you are frightened, you may leave,¡± she chuckled at her own joke. Piro and Abe looked at each other, confused and alarmed. This could be an opportunity, or some kind of trap.

    ¡°I made a oath with Mrs. Gong, and you know I cannot break it,¡± he spat.

    She sighed, like a petulant teenager, ¡°Why does everyone listen to my grandmother, but treat me like shit? We¡¯re camping. I am tired of all this and I can¡¯t sleep in trees with one eye open like you owlish lot.¡±

    This was news to the captives. Abe¡¯s eyes widened.

    When they met up with the trio there was an argument in their tongue that lasted for a few moments. As this was longer than any previous conversation, Abe assumed it was their version of a heated diatribe. With sour expressions, the three disappeared once more to take watch from the trees as the others made camp in a rocky grotto that was familiar to Abe and Piro.

    Piro blushed as she realized it was one of the places they had made love during their excursion. She hadn¡¯t expected that they¡¯d ever return to the spot.

    A fire was started. The male elf hobbled them but cut their hands loose so they could eat and rest. They took the hint that if they made any attempts to escape that death would be swift. Abe rubbed his wrists as he watched Mrs. Gong¡¯s granddaughter head for the spring to gather water and freshen herself. She paused to stare at Piro with a contemplative expression on her face. She pulled up the smaller woman by grabbing her collar, saying, ¡°You stink. Come with me. If you cause trouble, they will kill your so-called lord. They don¡¯t care about my life, so if I die it will only mean you and your man will join me, very painfully.¡±

    Loosened from her restraints, Piro meekly followed the woman to the interior of the grotto. There was a small pool carved into the rock, and during the summer it would probably be comfortable, but the spring water was freezing at this time of year. As if daring her to try anything, the woman set her long knife aside (her pistol having been secured at the campsite) and motioned for Piro to assist her in disrobing. Humiliated, Piro helped tug loose the various strings tying the woman¡¯s clothes together until the tall woman was naked in the fading light.

    Even Piro had to gasp at her beauty. Ignoring her, Senua put her feet into the shallow water, suppressing the shock from the cold. She splashed water carefully without drenching herself but the stunning cold was almost invigorating. She unrolled a precious bar of soap from her pack, and beckoned to the captive.

    Sighing, Piro took off her own stinking clothes, relieved to have an opportunity to clean herself as well despite the circumstances. Once again, she played the role of the slave girl.

    At the fire, Abe thankfully bit into a slice of meat as the male elf watched. He said, ¡°Sure you don¡¯t want to sneak a peek? You like the boss lady, I can tell.¡±

    The male just stared at him with the same stony expression.

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem the talkative sort, I get it. But all due respects, I think I am your long lost king. Oberon? Ring any bells.¡±

    Leaves pulled out his long knife, ¡°No human is a king of ours. You¡¯re a pitiful lord, with only one follower.¡±

    ¡°I aim to expand. I¡¯m hiring, if you¡¯re interested.¡±

    This managed to generate a small laugh from the captor. He said, ¡°I¡¯ll follow you if you manage to protect your slave from what¡¯s coming to her. Mrs. Gong is interested in you, but the girl will be sold to make back some of the losses you have cost her.¡±

    ¡°Damn, is she some kind of Don Corleone of this world? To be fair, none of this really belongs to her in the first place. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. What does the old hag have on you that you have to follow her orders?¡±

    There was a long pause before there was an answer to this. The male leaned forward, ¡°It¡¯s not her, but her son-in-law, and the father of the crazy one. He married outside of the People, breaking a lot of tradition but he was our appointed king. The real king, not some shaggy human with a big mouth. Once he made a compact with the old bitch, we had no choice.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s keeping you from breaking those compacts? Just get a new king.¡±

    ¡°The law is what keeps you alive, fool. Humans have no honor. They lie and they keep no compacts, but we¡¯re not like that. The People only live by the law so, no matter how much we hate it, we must follow. The fool has cursed us and we don¡¯t expect to survive much longer. Our People will be the last in these territories soon enough.¡±

    ¡°Sad story. Honestly, I think that sucks. I¡¯m not kidding because I know what it is like to have to follow an obligation I don¡¯t even believe in,¡± Abe replied bitterly. ¡°Call me Abraham, leader of no one.¡±

    The eery eyes bored into Abe for another long spell. Finally, he responded, ¡°That is fair, and I sense that you speak true enough for a human. I am called Leaves in your tongue, and do not pester me with your puns, for I have heard them all.¡±

    The mood was more cordial, at least until the two women returned, warming themselves next to the fire.

    Piro was a bit red-faced while the tall female, now known to Abe as Senua Gong, had a look of satisfaction. Piro did not elaborate at what had happened during the break, allowing her feet to be tied once again without a word.

    Abe noted the scent of some kind of soap,and wished he¡¯d get a turn as he scratched himself. He was probably pretty ripe by this time. If Senua could look any better than before, somehow she did. She positively glowed and she¡¯d left her top much looser than earlier. Abe had to struggle not to stare. Piro¡¯s hostile glare of her own helped as motivation.

    Senua unpacked a selection of preserved food that she shared with belated generosity. Languidly, she leaned back after filling herself, ¡°Your slave girl is well trained. It¡¯s too bad her fate is sealed otherwise I¡¯d keep her for myself.¡±

    Abe offered, ¡°I hear that you are royal blood. You¡¯d be welcome to join my household.¡±

    She guffawed, amused rather than offended by the foolish human, ¡°You are an interesting one. Abraham? A strange name that I do not recognize. Yes, my father is considered a king of the People, but it is a weak nation with no territory.¡±

    ¡°My situation is somewhat similar, so I¡¯d say that is a perfect match.¡±

    She looked him over with appraisal, ¡°You would have to take my name, such is the tradition. Also, only the head of the family can form an engagement, so my grandmother will have to make the arrangements. But I may not have any objections, if you survive that long.¡±

    Abe didn¡¯t have to look around to note the objection on the faces of both Piro and Leaves who did not like this turn of conversation.

    Senua laughed, ¡°I¡¯m not being serious of course.¡± Somehow, the others did not seem appeased by this. Abe forced himself not to appear disappointed. Piro appeared ready to kick him if she could by this point.

    He tendered, ¡°So, why is Mrs. Gong interested in a stranger with no land nor possessions? You¡¯ve taken back everything else.¡±

    ¡°That is a good question. It may have something to do with her arrangement with that witchy woman you murdered.¡±

    Piro burst out, ¡°We didn¡¯t kill her. She did that to herself.¡±

    Senua shrugged, disinterested, ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter to me. Your flight makes you guilty. Of course, if you had stayed to plead your case, you most likely would have been found guilty. I do not fault your attempt, it just wrecked my plans of relaxing. I am planning on having your slave girl recompense me in full before she is sold off.¡±

    Piro reddened. Abe finally began to lose some of his detachment. He said slowly, ¡°If you hurt her, I¡¯ll do everything in my power to destroy you.¡±

    ¡°At last, the little lord bares his fangs,¡± Senua raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m shaking in my boots. I was going to have her warm my bedding tonight, but I¡¯ll let you keep her for now.¡±

    As darkness fell, Leaves stayed on watch as the rest prepared for sleep. The three bowmen didn¡¯t make a reappearance, presumably resting in their own perches as they secured the perimeter out of sight.

    Abe managed to fall into a fitful sleep while Piro curled up next to him. Senua was snoring as soon as she slipped into her bedroll. Once again, Piro didn¡¯t know what the future held for her. She must have slept, because she vaguely recalled terrible dreams later on but she wasn¡¯t sure she hadn¡¯t just confused them with memories.

    When the attack came, it didn¡¯t matter much what the source of her terror was.

 Chapter 6: Survival

    They appeared to be like feral beasts, smeared with mud all over their nearly nude bodies, clad with the skins of animals for loincloths but not much else. Their weapons were crude, carved from bone or hewn from wood without much care. Yet, they had moved with a preternatural swiftness, and silence, when they had set upon the camp. Leaves had cursed, assuming the bowmen had abandoned them without warning, as he had whipped out his blade to fend off the attackers.

    He was much stronger than he appeared, holding his own for a few moments but he was quickly overwhelmed. At least a dozen of the attackers had overrun them. Senua had managed to come awake only in time to be captured immediately. She had shouted something but everyone had ignored her as she had uselessly struggled against the brutes grasping her. In the melee, Abe had come free from his bindings in order to struggle with the man-beast who was going for Piro.

    Abe had seen stars in his eyes from a blow across his head. In the scuffle, he was thrown down the embankment which may have saved him from being finished off by the burly man with the bone axe who had struck him.

    In the flickering campfire light, moments before he had fallen, Abe had the visage of the attacker etched into his memory: a thick, square skull with flat features and a lantern jaw; a mouth, twisted in glee, with a hint of fang-like teeth; small, piggish eyes under thick brows; and a wide neck adorned with finger-bones and trinkets. His oily hair had been tied back, missing only a bone in his topknot to complete the stereotypical image of a primitive savage.

    One word had come to Abe¡¯s mind: troll.

    Dazed, Abe had struggled in the thick brush, attempting to climb back up but the blow had disoriented him. Blood dripping from the wound, he had blindly crashed through the darkness until consciousness had escaped him.

    The next morning he managed to wake, somehow still alive despite the chill and the head wound. He had vomited at some point. He probably had a concussion but Abe considered himself lucky that his skull hadn¡¯t been split open like a melon. It must have been a glancing strike, he guessed.

    He half-crawled, stumbled, back to the campsite, or what was left of it. The firewood was scattered and their possessions looted. He saw no signs of any corpses, which gave him some small hope.

    The attackers had carried off their prizes, dead or alive.

    Abe wasn¡¯t surprised that they had not considered him worth taking. He wondered if these trolls were the type to eat people, but he shook the thought from his head.

    Abe had no illusions of being able to track them in the mountains. This was their territory, and he presumed he would have a slim chance of following them if they did not wish to be followed. The suddenness of the attack meant that their skills were even sharper than the scout, Leaves, not that an earlier warning might have helped much against such a force.

    Abe also presumed that, per Leaves exclamation, the three bowmen had saved their own skins instead of defending the hopeless position. They were probably long gone by now, he thought. They clearly did not get along with the other two, and presumably, would have no interest in rescuing them against such odds.

    Abe did not dwell on the complacency of Senua Gong despite the warnings from the others that had predicted this turn of events. He presumed that the various allegiances of the region were fickle, and he hoped, that there still remained some form of leverage he could use to save Piro, assuming she still lived. Perhaps play off one faction against another, although he had no idea how.

    Through gritted teeth, Abe breathed, ¡°I ain¡¯t a quitter, at least.¡± Abe washed the matted blood from his head in the grotto, cursing at the freezing temperature. He had no idea if he needed stitches over the lump in his cranium but the bleeding seemed to have slowed to a slow ooze. Otherwise, he was actually no worse for wear, in terms of bodily contusions or broken bones, despite his tumble.

    ¡°Well, I still got my clothes at least, so I won¡¯t freeze to death outright, but I have no supplies or weapons,¡± Abe spoke into the air. ¡°I¡¯m pretty much fucked.¡±

    He took a long draught of water, as he had no means of carrying more and he had a feeling he should stay hydrated despite the loss of heat. His fingers and toes felt numb but he had no idea how close, or far, he was from actual hypothermia. Either way, he felt pretty miserable.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Damn it. Why didn¡¯t I study wilderness survival?¡±

    Abe picked a direction and began walking.

    It did not take long for him to get lost. Downhill should have lead him to the river, he supposed, but the furrows of the hills confused him and when he thought that he had been losing elevation he saw that he was even deeper into the wood. Abe could not conceive how this was possible since he recalled that they had easily climbed above it during their earlier flight from the Company men.

    Abe stopped to rub his head. Above should be the spires of the mountains, exposed and rocky while below should be the river. The whole valley wound north to south and was fairly narrow from what he recalled.

    ¡°Why the fuck is this hard?¡± He wondered aloud. Looking around, he recognized nothing, although some of the trees seemed to resemble ones he had passed before. ¡°Shit, I should have marked the trunks with a rock or something.¡±

    Thirsty again, he sat down to take a break. It must have been midday by that point, as the sun was high in the sky. He could figure that out at least.

    The wind rushed through the branches of the trees as he sat for a long moment. A sound gave him a flash of hope: water. When he found the source of the noise, Abe was disappointed that it wasn¡¯t a river, only a tiny creek trickling down from some higher point. He had no clue, as usual, if it was potable but he drank anyway. It seemed clear enough, and quite refreshing.

    It should also lead him down to the main river, he hoped.

    The creek meandered until it met a bigger tributary, one big enough to wade in. Abe wondered how they had missed this before as it was a significant flow. Wouldn¡¯t they have crossed it going south? Or perhaps he had ended up in a different valley somehow? But that seemed unlikely as well. They couldn¡¯t have travelled that far, could they?

    His meandering thoughts were forgotten as soon as he saw the women.

    <hr>

    Excerpt from the Trials of Margret Beatrice of the First Ward by her second, Warren Viro Quantelle.

    I remember the jeers, the hot sun on our backs, the smell of fear in the air in those days of our despair. My commander never changed expression. She stood tall throughout, of that I promise.

    Oh, this is bitter to recall, and worse to write, but for they say history is written by victors. For this instance, the loser puts to record for some small future to read. Curse me, if you think I am a liar. I do not care. My sisters, lost to all. In memory, I write, for them.

    They tried to diminish us the entire ride to the capital, the walls of the city strung with the bodies of our fallen, but when we stood in formation on that hard packed earth of the old plaza we showed them all what we of the Sacred Regiment of the Mystic Order were made of. All we had was our pride in the end, and even that could not save us. But it did not matter, for with Margret we all stood.

    It is true that the so called Virgin Guard was to protect the honor of the high Princess Rosaline, but in reality, we had pledged to the First Ward. Offal was thrown at us, but she stood tall. She joined us as we were stripped of our armor and raiment. Our dignity was in her approval of us.

    The Princess herself, we could see little, but we heard her torment as she was put to the whip. She took it well, for that we were proud.

    To further humiliate us, these events unfolded in the grand plaza of the Matriarchs where dignitaries of old once held court in that amphitheater with the old order. Now, the hated one, the Black Lord, came to oversee our fate, sitting under an awning with his court of vipers, fanned by his slave attendants. He was too far away to note any detail, but his voice still echoes in my ears.

    I could see the eyes of the troopers pressed to guard us. We could have overtaken them easily, but we stood firm to our own promise. We had surrendered in full, and had to accept any torment and punishment, no matter how foul. Such was our honor, our duty.

    Still, the horror of it still shakes me to my bones.

    ¡°I am pleased. Your offering is a good one,¡± the Emperor spoke at last. ¡°The Royal Overseer shall assess the prize.¡±

    The Overseer was a giant man, full of rolls of fat, and sporting a comical codpiece as offensive as his countenance. He examined the Princess as she stood shivering in her stocks. He assessed, ¡°She is worth a small sum of silver on the market. Perhaps to be used as a toilet scrubber.¡±

    The audience that had gathered for our humiliation laughed. Already, barkers were selling food and drink as their entertainment unfolded.

    ¡°Surely,¡± the Emperor mused. ¡°A Princess Matriarch would raise much more in a special auction, with proper training, of course.¡±

    The Overseer bowed, ¡°Of course, My Lord.¡±

    The Emperor waved the fat man away, saying, ¡°Now, for more serious business. I am hard, but just. As promised, you have surrendered yourselves, sparing your provinces from the sword. However, justice requires punishment for rebellious factions such as yourselves. Once, long ago in a foreign land, there were a people called Romans who punished their soldiers with a concept called decimation. It means the summary execution of a tenth of a military unit.¡±

    Rosaline¡¯s reply was difficult to hear, but firm, ¡°I do no know of such cruel people, or how such a cruelty could ever be called just. But we are at your mercy, great lord.¡±

    ¡°Regardless, my judgement is final. You will choose one out of every ten in your regiment for immediate execution. Be grateful that the rest shall be spared, for the moment.¡±

    Margret stepped forward, ¡°I volunteer.¡± All of us followed, of course.

    ¡°No,¡± the Emperor had rebuked. ¡°Choose a tenth, by lot if you must. Out of graciousness, you may choose the method of disposal. My patience grows thin. Decide.¡±

    And so we chose lots. To my misfortune, and Margrets, we were not elected.

 Chapter 7: The Three Maidens

    Abe rubbed the knot on his skull, wondering if he was hallucinating. There were three beautiful maidens wading in a still part of the waters. Their skirts were hitched up, revealing their calves. The women wore fine dresses with their top coats and cloaks stretched on a blanket beside the river. He saw a handcart with the rest of their belonging next to a campsite.

    Abe¡¯s eyes couldn¡¯t help but wander to their full bosoms, pushed up like costume players would at a Renaissance faire. For a moment he expected them to be scandalized but their eyes lit up with hope instead of anxiety or rancor. They waved, so he approached, puzzled. He would assume three women in the frontier to be much warier of strangers.

    They all appeared somewhat related with the same shade of lightly russet braided hair tucked under finely laced hoods. His head throbbed suddenly, making him go to one knee. Abe realized that he was still exhausted. The first maiden reached him, clucking like a mother in some foreign language, realizing his distress. He must look like a mess, with bedraggled clothes and hair matted with blood, yet as his eyes fluttered Abe let himself relax.

    Abe didn¡¯t notice the gap in time but he found himself on the stretched blanket, head nestled on the lap of a maiden as another brought him something to drink in a small jug. It was fermented and strong, with spices. They cleaned his wound, applying some kind of poultice to the cut and wiping his brow with a wet cloth. Abe stared happily up at the chest swelling above him. His head spun from the drink, so he closed his eyes to stop it for a moment.

    ¡°My lord,¡± a voice spoke. His eyes snapped open. Abe had fallen asleep again without realizing it. They¡¯d put a blanket over him, and his head rested on a different maiden¡¯s lap this time. Their eyes peered at him with the same hopeful expectation.

    ¡°Yes?¡± he croaked.

    With a heavy accent, one of them asked, ¡°Are you to be our betrothed?¡±

    Abe¡¯s mouth hung open.

    He managed to cough out, "This must be a case of mistaken identity. My name is Abraham, but everyone calls me Abe.¡±

    They cocked their heads, confused. The one who appeared to the default leader asked, ¡°You are not the King of the Mountain? We were told this region was of the Great Mountain Clan, ruled by the Troll King, Omgar. We have waited the allotted time in the promised place. We worried some trouble may have come to you, or him, as it may be.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯ve never heard of Omgar. Of the Mountain Clan, I saw a few not long ago, but let¡¯s say they were not on the best of terms.¡±

    One of the maidens wailed, ¡°See, I knew it. The Troll King would not be such a man. He must be a beast, as the stories say.¡±

    If this Omgar looked anything like the other trolls, Abe wasn¡¯t about to give them the bad news just yet.

    The lead maiden tried to calm them down, ¡°If this man says he has seen the Clan, we are close. We have made our peace, do not falter now. Let us rest and eat, and tomorrow we will plan how to find our future husband as it appears he will not come to us.¡±

    The women adeptly prepared a shelter for the night near the shore of the river. A pot was hung over the fire and Abe made to rest on makeshift bedding that appeared to be intended to be shared by all of them under a wide lean-to they erected. If this prospect troubled him, he did not say as the smell of food made his stomach grumble. Introductions were finally made once things had settled down. The eldest, and the de facto leader, was Mariken who was tall with a slender neck and, as Abe had guessed, was the first cousin of the two younger maidens, sisters, Aril and Karil. Their appearance and names were similar to European and Scandinavian ones, but with odd differences such as tan skin, compared to the generally pale ones of the locals. Abe guessed they had traveled far, perhaps from a sunnier clime, but they were vague about their origins.

    This was all right by Abe, as he didn¡¯t want too many questions about his either. He felt a pang, but avoided thoughts about Piro¡¯s fate. There was nothing he could do until he found where the Clan had taken her. Abe guessed that the quest of the three maidens would coincide with his own, but he was not sure how as of yet.

    Karil stirred the pot, adding ingredients until she deemed it ready. The traveler¡¯s stew was hearty and spicy, and Abe thought it was the best thing ever. ¡°Sorry, Piro,¡± he muttered to himself as he blew on his portion, ladled onto a porcelain plate. He admired it.

    Mariken noticed his appraisal, ¡°A wedding gift from my parents.¡±

    ¡°They must be quite wealthy.¡±

    ¡°Of course, he is a baron, while my cousins are sixth in line to the throne of our land. They wouldn¡¯t sacrifice the true heirs, of course,¡± she said bitterly.

    ¡°Blue bloods seem to be coming out of the woodwork around here. More chiefs than Indians,¡± he joked. By this time, the three maidens had become accustomed to Abe¡¯s typical outbursts so they didn¡¯t question his bizarre soliloquys. Abe did wonder how often normal people would encounter nobility on the road. ¡°At least Piro is just a regular gal,¡± he said without irony.

    Abe finished his plate, slaking his thirst with more of the heady spiced mead or whatever it was. His ears were red from the alcohol as he asked, ¡°So, why are you off in the wilderness to marry some fellow you¡¯ve never met, if I may ask?¡±

    After the main course, Karil had set up a blanket with various cut fruits, meats, and sweets from their stores and more of the alcoholic beverage was brought out. Aril cleaned the dishes at the river as Mariken hosted their guest, refusing when he offered to help. ¡°Try this,¡± she said as she put spread onto some kind of hard cracker.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°It¡¯s delicious,¡± he said. ¡°Fit for a king, I¡¯d say. Shouldn¡¯t you be saving this for your real lord?¡±

    ¡°I think we will be prizes enough,¡± she replied, haughtily. She summarized their reasons for searching for the Troll King: ¡°Our land has suffered under a long drought and the men are poor or already married. We have come to offer ourselves to the Troll King, for good winds, and favor, as our people have for generations. Or so the soothsayers promised us. No one ever returns, so we do not know our fate, but then again, who does?¡±

    A bit drunk, Abe said, ¡°That¡¯s shitty. This troll clan is a rough bunch. They snatched my friends in the dark of night and are the ones who gave me this knock on the noggin¡¯.¡±

    Karil wrapped her arms around him, her chest pushing against him, ¡°They must be beasts! Cousin, must we go through with this mad adventure?¡±

    ¡°We made a vow. Shall we betray our ancestors? We know of the trolls and their harshness but we must endure it,¡± her voice wavered, betraying her own doubts.

    Abe tried not to alarm them further, ¡°They seem human enough. A little toothy, I guess. I¡¯m sure their mother¡¯s love them. They could have finished me off, but they didn¡¯t though that may have been practicality rather than mercy.¡±

    Aril had come back by this point, ¡°Can¡¯t be worse than the Kude boy, Haben. I was promised to him for a while. He never bathed.¡±

    Abe¡¯s tongue had loosened up a bit from the alcohol, prompting him to brag, ¡°Well, I¡¯m technically a king of sorts. You can join me, if you want. I already have a first wife lined up though.¡±

    Karil seemed to be delighted by this, ¡°Cousin! Perhaps this is the good fortune we were waiting for. He could buy out the Troll King, I¡¯m sure he¡¯d accept the dowry fee! How many serve in your fief, lord? Are your granaries full, and the animals fat where you hold land? I just ask for a small plot of my own, perhaps a vineyard and some ponies plus the usual stipend for expenses.¡±

    ¡°Well, about that, I don¡¯t have any holdings yet. Been planning on that though,¡± he said, slightly abashed.

    Karil seemed crestfallen but allowed him to keep his head on her bosom. Mariken said, collegially, ¡°Not all fortune is in land. I am sure our friend has many prospects. However, we¡¯d have to decline as we have already been pledged.¡±

    Aril shook her head with a wry expression. She said, ¡°I suggest we find the Troll King and help Abe get back his friends.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not afraid?¡± Abe asked as Karil squeezed him harder.

    Aril continued, ¡°Of course we are, but we know our duty. Our people are strong. Do not worry, we will speak to the King.¡±

    She took a long swig from the liquor jug before pulling out what appeared to be a lyre. A bit drunk, she began singing a pleasing tune in her home tongue.

    Karil grew flushed and threw a berry at her sister, ¡°That¡¯s disgusting. Stop that.¡±

    Mariken chuckled as Aril began singing even louder. Abe sat puzzled until the first cousin told him, ¡°It¡¯s an old brothel song. Much you know...¡± She winked at Abe and made a lewd gesture with her hands. He was bemused by her candor. In some places, he assumed a woman expressing such things was scandalous, but not where he was from, and, apparently, not in their world either. Even Karil settled down and hummed along despite her short-lived objections.

    Aril stood up to do a jig as she played the lyre. Mariken was totally into her cups by this point, dancing saucily to the tune as Karil snuggled with Abe. Taking another swig, he said, ¡°Maybe I did die and go to heaven.¡± Mariken was apparently doing a brothel number, as she squatted luridly, simulating a particular sex act. Her cheeks were blazing red as Karil and Abe clapped along.

    Abe was about to ask how such noble girls had learned such entertainments, but he held his tongue. He wasn¡¯t an idiot. Mariken twirled until she collapsed, laughing onto Karil and Abe. Her face was pushed up, pink and alluring, into Abe¡¯s as she nuzzled him. Karil giggled underneath both of them. There was a brief moment when Mariken¡¯s heavy lidded eyes seemed to signal total abandonment yet Abe held back. Aril spun around them, jamming on her lyre as if daring them to go over the brink.

    The precarious moment lapsed, culminating with Abe falling face first into Karil¡¯s chest, already snoring. Mariken rolled over to lose consciousness herself. It was left to Aril to bank the fire and arrange the blankets over them. She hummed the ribald tune as she found a spot to share the limited space.

    Abe had a tough time hiding his case of blue balls the next morning, but somehow he managed. His dreams did not help. Not surprisingly they involved naked nymphs playing in a vast underground grotto. Abe found himself swimming in a blood warm pool that seemed to go on forever. A gentle thrum of a heartbeat enveloped him. The rational part of his mind told him this was some kind of metaphor for the womb but he was distracted by the flash of skin ahead of him. Hungrily, he found what he was looking for, a mysterious female that he grasped but she kept slipping away like an eel. Her dark hair floated in the water, and her eyes were deep like voids. He shivered but kept pursuing her as he burned with desire. A great thirst made him search for the female¡¯s womanhood, but the erotic dream eluded a satisfying conclusion.

    He awoke with only a mild headache but a sense of missed opportunity. The maidens had already been up for quite a while, completing their morning ablutions and breaking down much of the camp. They had bundled much of their supplies into packs, as the journey up the mountain was unsuitable for the handcart. When he argued to help carry, they stoically shook their heads and would brook no further discussion on the matter.

    Mariken handed him a skin of fresh water after he had washed himself, ¡°You will need this. Show us where you saw the Mountain Clan, perhaps we can find their trail from there.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure you really want to do this?¡±

    ¡°Yes, even without you, we would continue our quest. We are pledged to marry the Troll King and it is our only goal.¡± It was apparent that nothing he said or did could dissuade them of this.

    A thought came to him as he took a sip of the cold water to clear his throat. He asked, ¡°So, how exactly were you supposed to meet this Troll King whom you¡¯ve never seen nor never met?¡±

    ¡°Why, as the stories say, when the spring equinox has passed and the days grow longer, the valley where the rivers meet is where the Troll King shall find his betrothed who burns the incense for three days,¡± Mariken repeated, as if by rote. ¡°We burned incense for seven days in two different valleys like this one before you showed up.¡±

    Abe just stared for a moment, befuddled, ¡°And that¡¯s supposed to work?¡± He wondered but didn''t speak aloud his thought that the other sacrifices must have just run away or been lost to bandits or the elements.

    Aril said, ¡°Well it didn¡¯t, so we need you to lead the way now, minor Lord.¡± She¡¯d given him that knick-name after he had admitted he held no land. He didn¡¯t want to also admit that he had gotten lost, so he picked the most likely direction. ¡°Okay, that ridge over there. I think I crossed that the other day.¡±

    They set off with Abe in the lead, hoping he wasn¡¯t sending them all into a hopeless situation. Perhaps it was the bump in the head, but it seemed rational to accept that three beautiful maidens would give themselves to some monstrous troll and not run screaming the other way. If somehow he could see Piro again, he hoped there would be a way to recover his weapons and rescue her, as well as the three maidens from their fate.

    This was sheer madness of course.

 Chapter 8: The Mountain Clan

    Captain Piercer held up the message that had just been handed to him. With a disgusted look, he tossed it aside as his second, Jerome ¡°Blind Eye¡± Cornelius, waited impatiently.

    Blind Eye asked, ¡°So, we going?¡±

    Piercer rubbed the scruff on his chin, ¡°You know we¡¯re short-handed as it is.¡±

    ¡°So, we get more like we always do.¡±

    ¡°I miss the old squad,¡± Piercer sighed. ¡°You think the Mountain Clan would do what this note says?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t know, but whether they killed our guys or not, we have to respond. Something ate the horses too, and it wasn¡¯t wild boars that did it. Blood¡¯s been spilled, and there needs to be a reckoning.¡±

    Piercer leaned back, kicking his boots up onto the scruffy surface of the old desk. His tall frame barely fit on the chair as he rocked back on its back two legs. The room was strewn about with empty liquor bottles and trash but the tiny office¡¯s cabinets that held the accounts of the Breaker Boys Company, a fine old mercenary troop founded by the late Breaker brothers before being taken over by Captain T.F. Piercer, were in good order. Piercer grabbed one of the ledgers and flipped through the pages.

    He said, ¡°I guess these things won¡¯t balance themselves. We¡¯ll get our profit from this deal one way or another. After the payout to the relatives of the men we lost, we¡¯re officially in arrears for this month so we need to make sure to collect. Get the crew ready.¡±

    Blind Eye gave him a salute, relieved that a decision had been made, ¡°You got it. About the¡­¡±

    Piercer sighed, ¡°Sure, break out the good stuff, including the repeater rifles. We¡¯ll need all the firepower we got to take on the Mountain Clan. Send a message out to gather up everyone, and I mean everyone no matter where they¡¯re holed up.¡±

    Grinning, Blind Eye excused himself to run down the stairs to the other building where Rob Bailey, their armorer and supply master, was billeted. He roused the man from his mattress, announcing, ¡°Cap¡¯s orders to muster up our best kit. We¡¯re going troll hunting.¡±

    Bailey rubbed his bleary eyes as he got up, rolling over the moll who was still sleeping next to him. She was sawing a hefty log with her snoring. As he pulled on a shirt, Bailey said, ¡°About time we cleaned out that trash on the mountain.¡±

    From his window, Piercer observed as the men began making preparations, gathering rations, ammunition, pack horses, and collecting the gear allocated by Bailey as he checked off a list. Only a few of Piercer¡¯s original squad, including Bailey and Cornelius from the same regiment were still alive, but the men were loyal enough as long as the cash kept flowing and some of them were even decent soldiers. He looked over their compound out at Hopken, a grimy port full of opportunists and itinerant humanity who had dragged themselves to this particular frontier, as people always have, for second or third chances in a hard life that offered little elsewhere. Some of the men scurrying below wouldn¡¯t be making it back, of course, but Piercer wasn¡¯t one for sentiment. It bothered him that he was reacting instead of acting on his own plans. Being prepared was what had kept him living longer than the typical mercenary in this region, however, the instructions from his patron had been clear: use this opportunity to finish the job of pushing out the troublesome demi-humans in this territory.

    The place wasn¡¯t going to remain neutral for long, so at some point, Piercer knew the people living here would have to choose a side. He aimed to be on the most profitable one.

    <hr>

    Piro recalled little from the night of the attack except confusion and darkness. The only thing keeping her going was hope that Abraham was still alive out there somewhere. She couldn¡¯t give up if there was a chance of escape. For now, the trolls had kept her alive though she did not know why.

    She¡¯d been bundled up and carried with the other two from their camp in the dead of night. The barbaric men had needed no torches to find their way along treacherous mountain passes until daylight revealed that they were now quite high above the forest. If she wasn¡¯t tightly bound and being carried by a giant, beastly man to an unknown future, Piro might have enjoyed the spectacular view. She could make out the river far below, meandering down the valley that sprawled out into a hazy distance where more purple peaks thrust into the sky on the opposite side. She could only glimpse the other captives for a few moments at a time. The man was unconscious most of the journey as he had been severely beaten during the struggle, to the point that Piro was surprised he still lived. Unlike Piro, the other woman had a hood tied over her head, and if she had anything to say or ask, Piro did not know. Regardless, she gave no apparent struggle over her ignominious position, being carried like a sack across the back of a troll man. Seemingly tireless, the men trudged on with their prizes for much of the day until they had reached their hidden enclave. Unseen watchers whistled passphrases to confirm their entry through a narrow gap of rock.

    Piro wasn¡¯t sure of the fate of the sharp-eared woman but she saw the tracker being tossed into a large cage where he lay strewn like a ragdoll. That was the extent of the medical care given to the wretch. The modest village was made up of crude domiciles and stank of offal. The men were greeted warmly by their compatriots, including women and children, hooting in their own tongue. The women shared the same features as their menfolk, other than the sagging breasts which they did not bother covering. The spoils were divided up, based on some incomprehensible pecking order. She had no idea where Abe¡¯s guns were taken or the rest of their supplies. There was meat being roasted over a fire, but before Piro¡¯s imagination could run wild she saw that it was some kind of animal though she did not recognize the species.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Eventually, the troll carrying her parted company with the others, entering a structure much bigger than most of the others. With an earthen floor, the home was mostly one big, shared, room with a couple side areas that appeared to be for storage or some other utility. A large hearth was built in the middle with an opening in the roof for the smoke to escape. There were no chairs, so the residents sat on the floor with mats made of some fiber or fur as the only comforts.

    Piro was released, apparently expected to sit and make herself at home. If the large man, apparently some kind of chieftain, thought she was dangerous, he gave no sign. Piro sat down as directed, anxious about what might happen next.

    A woman, presumably the leader¡¯s wife, handed out some kind of hot drink ladled into earthenware bowls. They were decorated, and surprisingly, of fairly fine quality. Piro bowed, accepting them in what she hoped was proper etiquette.

    Since the wife seemed strong enough to crush her head in, she forced down the mystery fluid without a complaint. A pair of children peered at her curiously, but otherwise, they were actually well mannered. They played on the opposite side of the room, glancing over once in a while but speaking in lowered voices as the wife tended the fire and did various chores. Piro offered to help, but it was rebuffed with stern motions from the wife, who did not seem to speak the common tongue.

    It became apparent that Piro was to share supper with them. Placed on a communal mat on various ceramic plates and bowls, the food was quite good. There was fried fish which was delicious. Sides were seasoned whole eggs of some small bird, some kind of starchy tuber, a thin stew of unknown origin, various local greens that Piro thought were as good as any she¡¯d had at home, and some kind of clear liquor, quite pure. She guessed the drink was probably taken or traded from some other town or province, as there was no sign that a distillery could or would be established near the village.

    All the dishes were shared with fingers or communal bowls, which was the only thing really barbaric in her eyes. At least no one was blowing their snot into the drink bowl as they passed it around. Even the children drank from it, but they took dainty sips of the strong stuff, washed down with water.

    Piro felt her face get flushed from the alcohol. She wasn¡¯t much of a drinker and Noma had been a teetotaler, keeping only some pure ethanol for medicinal purposes and dusty old bottles of wine in the cellar that were probaly from a previous tenant. The time with the sorceress seemed like an age ago. Despite herself she relaxed. Once the meal was done, the chieftain sat back, picking his teeth with a small knife as the wife cleared the dishes. The children played with the father, apparently asking him to recount some tale which he did with enthusiasm. Piro had no idea what he was saying, but his voice was not as beastly or guttural as she had first thought. Despite their features which included the thick bony ridge over their eyes and the jutting teeth with two canines that mildly resembled a boar¡¯s tusks, they acted like any human children would. In the flickering light, a deep homesickness washed over Piro, her eyes misting over. Her own home was not so different, except there had been hardwood floors, wide pavilions with silk curtains waving in the summer wind, and a fire pit laid with stone where she and her sisters would roast nuts. Piro ducked her head before the others could see her tears fall.

    That night Piro fell into a fitful sleep in her corner of the room. She had decided to bide her time. She couldn¡¯t work up the nerve to kill a man in his own home next to his family. Piro also doubted that a regular knife would cut through the man¡¯s thick neck hide very easily. Without the proper weapons, it would be as useful as wrestling a bear, she realized.

    Sometime in the night, a noise woke her. It took her a moment to realize what was happening: the chieftain was having sex with his wife. The children were fast asleep and oblivious, as this was probably a normal occurrence. They rutted for quite a long time, causing Piro to compare his stamina to Abraham. She was embarrassed as the memory came back to her. Finally, they finished and fell asleep in a heap. Piro sighed in relief. At least for now, she had two fewer items to worry about. They hadn¡¯t used her for the two obvious things as told in the old stories about barbarian trolls: being raped and eaten not necessarily in that order.

    <hr>

    The guards stepped aside to let in the big chief who rolled back the large rock with his own hands. They¡¯d kept the special prisoner in one of the spaces carved out of the mountain. She sat there, legs crossed, as if she had been expecting him. He took the hood off of Senua¡¯s head and untied her bindings. She glared at him, ¡°Gint, what do you think you are doing?¡±

    The troll chieftain looked as if he was barely keeping in his temper, ¡°I¡¯m not the one who spilled blood and broke the treaty on my mountain. If your grandmother wants you back, she¡¯ll have to pay the ransom. There will be a fight. The Company men won¡¯t accept that it was you acting alone. To them, we¡¯re all the same.¡±

    ¡°She won¡¯t pay,¡± she replied bitterly.

    ¡°She¡¯ll have to or I¡¯ll send you back in pieces.¡±

    ¡°Oh, does that excite you?¡± She leaned forward, the top of her chest pale in the light streaming in from behind him.

    ¡°Bah, your kind don¡¯t last long enough to be satisfying. You tricked me with your tits last time, but no more. If it comes to it, we¡¯ll cook you in the pot. Our hunting grounds have been reduced, trade scuttled or raided, and there¡¯s no farmland up here even if we were the type to take that shit up. Another winter and my people will be starving. Things won¡¯t last.¡±

    She settled down, appearing a bit uncomfortable for once, ¡°It will be war, then.¡±

    ¡°I just need to know where you and your grandmother will stand. No more bullshit.¡±

    Senua laughed, ¡°Ask our mad king. Is yours any better?¡±

    ¡°Keep this up and I¡¯ll send you to the Mountain King, instead of the other girl.¡±

    Senua¡¯s eyes twinkled at the empty threat, ¡°Ah, too bad, I wanted to keep her myself, but if she¡¯s to be one of his wives, you have my blessing. Does he ever turn an offering down?¡±

    The big man ignored her, still on the last topic, ¡°Just write the letter. We need the men and supplies your grandmother can bring. It won¡¯t be long before this last bit of territory gets snatched up by one of the empires. The Ritan¡¯s have increased that garrison on the border, so the Company men will come to collect their share before it all belongs to some governor or foreign conqueror. What you did will push the matter to the fore. I expect them to attack at any moment.¡±

    ¡°Or we could just run away from this place.¡±

    ¡°You know I can¡¯t do that. This has been my clan¡¯s home since the first dawn. We¡¯ll fight and die here, if need be,¡± he finished before turning to leave.

    At his back, Senua said, ¡°All right, I¡¯ll write your letter.¡± She got up to grab him around the waist. ¡°It¡¯s not fair, you know.¡±

    He pulled away, ¡°I have my duty to my family. Step back before the guards see you or I can¡¯t guarantee what might happen after that. To you or to me.¡± He left without looking back.

 Chapter 9: King of the Mountain

    Only partly due to his condition, they had to stop frequently for breaks. The three maidens simply had more stamina than Abe did even though they were carrying much more. During these rest periods, there were opportunities to discuss things, although some topics were more sensitive than others.

    Aril gave him a short summary of the various demi-humans that populated the land. To his ears, they resembled ones he had heard before, though once again with some variations. They called the demi-human races the ¡°Fay¡± or something with that pronunciation. Apparently this word crossed into more than one language although the accents were different. The people he considered elves were called the ¡°Shay¡± which matched up with his recollections of similar bestiaries of the fantastic. And the trolls were also known as the lesser Shay, for they are all related despite the range of appearance, although Aril¡¯s people called them Hobs. Humans could interbreed with them, but men were not considered native to this land but interlopers. In the Confederation of Akkan, from which the maidens hailed, they worshiped the Fay as elder gods, and gave sacrifices to them although few remained in their lands. The marriage pilgrimage was a tradition going back into antiquity, as the totem of their particular people was the Troll King. An effigy of the personage was apparently kept in the home of most of the Akkan people.

    Abe rested on a rock, legs aching, as Aril imparted this information to him.

    ¡°Where I am from, they are but creatures of myth, usually told to children in tales. We also no longer sacrifice people to the gods. It¡¯s considered somewhat backward at least, and an actual crime by most.¡±

    Mariken had been listening. She cut into the conversation, ¡°That makes no sense. How do the people treat with their gods? Do they not grow angry and not share their favor of rain and good crops? Or have the gods grown so weak, being abandoned? In which case, are those people not lost to wander alone without guidance or mercy? If so, the danger our elders have warned about is indeed real, the people of this world are doomed, as man has emboldened himself to the detriment of all. It is good we are on this journey, as the power of the Troll King has waned. We must replenish him.¡±

    ¡°Obviously, monotheism hasn¡¯t taken root in these lands. I¡¯m not Moses, and I¡¯m tired so you¡¯ll have to ask someone else to bring the tablets down from the mountain,¡± Abe said obliquely.

    Mariken pressed, ¡°What is this monotheism?¡±

    Abe hesitated, not wanting to muddy the waters further, but he always had a loose tongue. He explained, ¡°It is the belief that there is only one, higher, god amongst all gods. Usually a male one, though I am not sure why, honestly. I skipped sociology class.¡±

    Karil blurted, ¡°But that sounds like the Black Lord, or at least that is what his followers say.¡±

    Mariken paled, ¡°Do not speak of that!¡± Aril had a pained look on her face as well. Karil blithely continued, ¡°But it sounds like what they say about¡­him, that he is their one and only king, and that all others are false.¡±

    Mariken shouted, ¡°Quiet!¡± She looked around, as if the mere mention of this personage was enough to summon him, like some kind of demon.

    Abe realized that he was not going to overcome their ingrained superstition, so he did not press the matter. They continued on, however, it was clear that he had no idea where to go. He pretended that their current direction was the correct one. Either way, he wished he¡¯d picked a downward sloping path, but it was too late to turn back now. Afraid that they would call him out, he kept up the ruse, wondering what story he¡¯d make up once it was obvious that he had led them astray.

    Aril sidled up to him as the other two went up ahead in the direction he had pointed. She whispered, ¡°I will tell you more of the demon emperor. Mariken is more fearful than I.¡± Her tone was firm, but cautious, as if she too worried that even discussing the matter cast an ill spell. She said, quickly and softly as she could, ¡°There was once a kingdom called Artemisia, ruled by their female matriarchs for thousands of years. It lies far to the west of here on another continent, but it was conquered by a vicious warlord not long ago. He killed the matriarchs and put their heads on pikes to adorn the walls of his palace. I don¡¯t know much else, but stories. His evil has spurred the movement of many men, many of whom have come to our shores to make their fortunes. It is said that the influence of his supporters are behind the troubles that have increased in our lands.¡±

    ¡°Sounds familiar enough,¡± Abe whistled. ¡°So he¡¯s purging the Fay?¡±

    She shook her head, ¡°No, the ones in his land have joined him. They consider him their new ruler, the one that was promised to take over the whole world. His followers believe that he is destined to rule both man and Fay, and any who stand in his way will be crushed. The men on this continent fear him, but hate the Fay more for now. The conflict here has gone on for much longer than the demon Lord has ruled, but his reign of terror only has made things worse. There have been rumors of war, and our kingdom, Akkan, is too weak to stand in opposition to any of them. Some wish to band together, while others use the opportunity to make their own gains here.¡±

    When Mariken looked back suspiciously, Aril stepped away, trying to look innocent. Abe would have to leave his questions for later. He was curious about this Black Lord. Perhaps he was another man like himself? He grumbled, ¡°This guy sounds like he¡¯s not one for sharing the title of a chosen one.¡± It may have been unhealthily foolish to brag about possibly being a lord himself, even if he had been doing so in jest, to the wrong people.

    They stopped for a quick meal. Mariken noted, ¡°These are the last of the cakes. Hopefully, we will reach the home of the Hob King soon.¡± Abe didn¡¯t remark that the area seemed trackless. He remembered the desperate flight and the hunger since they had been much less prepared than the traveling maidens. The cakes were robust and quite filling. They were more like dry cornbread mixed with a protein bar.

    After washing down some of the crumbly cake with water, he asked, ¡°How long have you been traveling again? Must have been a tough road.¡±

    Mariken answered, ¡°It¡¯s been more than thirty days since we left our home. We resupplied at a lodge a few days ago, and we have been trapping game. It is much harder at home. There is much hunger there.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Karil wiped her eyes, sniffling. Aril put her arm around her sister. Abe realized they probably felt guilty, for they had been well fed on the journey while their relatives may have been starving. They weren¡¯t the types to complain about their circumstance. Still, they were essentially religious fanatics from his perspective. If this Troll King had been a dragon, would they have as happily thrown themselves into its maw? Was it that far removed from praying to a sky fairy?

    Abe looked at his hands, wishing he had some greater power. He wondered about what he was trying to achieve. So far, he had just been living day by day, pretending to be something he knew he was not. He was about to confess that he was merely a pretender when Abe noticed something.

    He stood up and walked to the stone marker. It was worn and inscribed with some ancient lettering but it was clearly pointing out a trail head, ancient and weathered but still clearly visible through the underbrush. Dumbly, he said, ¡°I think this is the way we should be going. We picked a perfect spot to take our break.¡±

    The women gathered up their belongings, hopeful, but also full of trepidation about the end of their journey.

    Before stepping onto the trail, he asked, ¡°So, what exactly happens when you meet your king?

    Karil replied quickly, as if reciting an old story, ¡°Why, we hold court with the Fae, in the great hidden palace, and feast on magical delights as we attend to our lord, the great King who will shower us with his affections once we are wed, and the guests will bring fabulous gifts, too many to recount. I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t want the details of how the wedding will be consummated, but I hear the endowment of the King is held in great regard.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I don¡¯t need to hear that, you are right,¡± Abe laughed at the whimsy of the fable. He just hoped it wasn¡¯t describing the afterlife. His hopes were partially dashed when Karil added, ¡°Oh, and in the other stories, the Fae court feeds on the brides after the consummation, but one will always be spared to bear progeny.¡±

    Aril joked, ¡°It definitely won¡¯t be you, Karil. You¡¯re too plump and tender.¡±

    Abe almost stopped, but for some reason his feet kept moving on the trail despite the feeling of horror seeping up into his gut. It was as if something ahead was magnetically pulling him, and the three young women, toward some lair. Perhaps, like life itself, he thought, we must toil our way to our own eventual doom.

    It was a steep trail with many, many switchbacks. If it had been hard before, the trek was even more arduous as they rapidly climbed in elevation. Once again, Abe saw that they had left the tree-line below them. Abe stopped, panting, in order to catch his breath.

    Aril offered to carry him, half-jokingly.

    Abe gulped down more water, hoping they had enough to last until they found another spring. He wondered where the trolls he had seen had gone. The trail looked barely touched in an age. Surely, they had not come this way. It was the only clear route left, so he¡¯d have to follow it to wherever it led.

    They stopped to make camp for the night in a crook in the mountain. There were only a few thin plants and the air was much cooler, frost was on some of the rocks, and Abe could see that there was snow on the crags not too far above them. Supper was a cold meal, as they did not have enough fuel to last the night while the moss scraped from the rocks made for a poor fire. The maidens didn¡¯t seem worried, and Abe saw why when Mariken took out a little stove. He didn¡¯t know what type of oil it ran on but it provided some heat and light as they huddled against the rapidly declining temperature. Aril warmed up some cubes of broth with a small metal pan on the stove, and they shared a warming drink before settling in to sleep. Once again, Abe found himself in a cozy nest.

    He said, ¡°I really could make this a habit.¡± If they felt any impropriety with him, they did not show it. The people of this world were far too practical for such worries. He also realized that their implicit trust in him motivated him to not despoil their current comradery. He dreamt of Piro again, remembering the look in her eyes when he had put his hands on her. She had accepted him readily then, but he had wondered what it had meant in this strange place, and if it would mean anything more in the future. He shook his head, half-wakening, driving the doubt from his mind. What did it matter?

    If the night wind answered, it did not speak to him

    Abe¡¯s aches didn¡¯t improve the next morning. Blearily, he stepped back on the trail without any enthusiasm. He said, ¡°Every day is leg day, now.¡±

    The trail ended abruptly on a narrow flat space above the snow line. The last section had been precarious, especially since they did not have the correct winter gear. Going further up without mountaineering equipment was not practical. Abe realized that it seemed to be a dead end. Disappointed, he wearily poked around the flattened area. It was not natural, so there must have been a purpose for the spot. Someone had gone to great effort to carve the ledge out of the mountain, which in his world would have probably meant explosives of some sort. Yet, the far end just stopped into empty space. He peered over the precipice to see that it was a sheer fall to rocks below. His legs trembled from the sudden vertigo.

    Mariken furrowed her brow, ¡°Is this the place where you made camp? I see no signs. It looks like it has been abandoned for many years. There are no marks of a fire, or even droppings of any animals or people.¡±

    ¡°Well, our camp was way down there somewhere,¡± he waved a finger to one of the crags downslope. ¡°But I could have sworn, they came from up here.¡± His lying was terrible but the Mariken didn¡¯t press him.

    She said, ¡°We will burn incense here, perhaps it will call down the Troll King from his abode.¡± The women began setting up again as Abe scratched his head. He kept looking around for a clue, as they circled a small burner, chanting in their home tongue. It seemed like superstitious claptrap, but he noticed something on the rock face after all.

    ¡°Well, I hope it doesn¡¯t require a secret rune to unlock, but I think this is a door,¡± he announced. Abe wondered if he had just not noticed the seams or if they were new. He pushed the stone door, and it swung open, as if on oiled hinges.

    Delighted, the women packed up again. Mariken seemed pleased as she handed him an oil lamp. Inside, away from the wind, she lit the wick for him with a spark tool. He held it up, revealing a passageway that led into the interior of the mountain. As if on cue, the door swung closed by itself. Abe hid his feeling of dread, not wanting to alarm the maidens. Their eyes glinted in the flickering lamp light.

    After only a short walk, they found themselves in some kind of antechamber carved out of rock. There were unlit lamps on the walls, and the interior was strewn with what appeared to be ancient junk. None of it gave any clues of anything useful, so they continued on.

    Aril said, ¡°There is a light, ahead.¡±

    Nervous, and wishing he had a weapon, Abe pushed forward into the spectral light being given off from the ceiling of the passageway. The next room had signs of habitation, including comfortable looking chairs that almost seemed modern to Abe¡¯s eyes. There was a table, with utensils, and the remains of a dinner, still relatively fresh. Someone was living here.

    Out of the shadows, an old troll, wearing tattered robes, with long, grey hair walked out. He said, ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve arrived. Have a seat, I will boil some tea for you.¡± He leered at the maidens, saying, ¡°And tasty treats too, very nice.¡± He smacked his lips as if he was happily imagining the moment he sucked the flesh from their bones. Abe tensed, curling a fist. Surely, there was something he could use as a weapon, but the old troll shuffled like someone who could be pushed over by a feather.

    Karil asked, meekly, ¡°Are you the Troll King?¡±

    The old man looked surprised, opening his mouth with a gapped tooth grin, ¡°Oh, gods, no. He¡¯s down the hall. Have some tea first. No need to rush, he¡¯s been waiting there quite a while.¡±

    With that the old troll turned away to head to, presumably, the kitchen of the underground haven.

 Chapter 10: Irresistable Grace

    His name was Borog. He claimed to be the high steward of the hidden keep which appeared to be mostly abandoned. The maidens went to work immediately, organizing the kitchen and the small dining chamber. They shooed away Abraham and the steward, who seemed flustered at first but easily acquiesced. He ended up giving Abe a short tour of that corner of the underground fortress. Apparently this section was the servant¡¯s private nook, while there was a great hall for formal guests. It was in no condition to be used, although Abraham briefly noted the large, echoing, space. With only a bit of that dim, spectral, light, there was not much to be seen through the gloom except that the space was majestically appointed. There were glints of jewels and fine embroidery. As for the King, his chambers were sealed. Two guards, wearing ancient plate armor and armed with spiked clubs, stood at each side of the heavy wooden door leading to the royal quarters.

    The steward coughed, ¡°The King has been in an ill humor for quite a while. It is best if we wait patiently. You can take these rooms.¡± Abe was shown to a guest apartment which could rival a modern luxury suite in size but the amenities were strictly medieval at best. Smoke from the hearths appeared to be sent up via shafts cut into the rock. There was a communal toilet, essentially wooden boards with round openings that sat over penetrations that apparently fell to some abyss, as Abe could hear the eerie howls of wind rushing up from far below. It didn¡¯t smell as much as he¡¯d have expected, but he didn¡¯t look forward to having a cold ass when it came time to use the facility. The place, overall, was not to his taste, and he already wished to leave it as a sense of claustrophobia oppressed him despite the high ceilings.

    When they returned to the servant¡¯s area, the dining chamber had the air of a home, and the smell of fresh food gave Abraham a sense of nostalgia. The steward seemed to agree, as his eyes moistened, ¡°These past few years have been hard.¡±

    What had been promised as a simple tea turned into nearly a full meal, as the maidens had decided to celebrate. They must have found some usable materials from the larder, as there was meat, hot cakes, and even eggs, although probably not from a chicken. The clutter had been cleared, and a fresh cloth placed on the main table. Borog cupped his hands around his steaming mug of tea, enjoying the aroma. Candles had been lit, giving the room a cheerier air than the spectral light. Abe had wondered about it: it came from strips of some kind of luminescent stone. Other than the guns, it was the only indication of technology much beyond the medieval that he had noticed, although he assumed some of the fabrics people wore may have been produced industrially.

    When the steward seemed relaxed after finishing his meal, Abraham asked, ¡°How did you know we were coming?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± he laughed. ¡°Old habits. Also, when you walked past the first marker, my bell rang. Can¡¯t have a secret fortress without being able to know when people are nosing about, can we? Also, the entrance cannot be found by mortal means. I will guess that these three are offerings, as they seem to know the old ways.¡±

    Mariken nodded, ¡°Yes, we are here to marry the Great King of the mountain.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I have a pot big enough for all three of you,¡± he chuckled. Karil moaned, face going pale. The steward changed his tone, ¡°Bah, you think we¡¯re barbarians? It¡¯s been a long time since we ate people. Not that you wouldn¡¯t taste good, but it¡¯s considered ill-mannered these days. Seems like a waste to me, when you have foreign armies rolling across the plains killing for loot and glory. Why not eat the meat? Oh, we hear things even in this place. Times are going to get worse. It used to be people just kept to themselves, but now you have empire builders who want to put their name everywhere.¡±

    Mariken pointedly changed the subject, ¡°When will the Lord be pleased to meet us?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s resting. Knowing his temper, it is best to wait till he calls for my attendance, so you may reside in the guest apartment. I will have the pantry restocked. You may draw water as needed from the cisterns, and there is ample bedding although their condition has diminished. Not enough help, these days.¡±

    Abraham wondered who this help was, since he¡¯d only seen the two guards and the elderly steward. He asked, ¡°What happened to everyone? This place could house a hundred or more, easily.¡±

    ¡°It was a full hall, long ago. You must be new to these lands, young man. It is well known that the Shay folk have been dying off or fleeing. Hunting has been poor, and the humans are well armed now with their cannons so all the good land has been taken by their settlements. They even take our people for slaves, to mine for coal and gold. Soon enough, they¡¯ll be coming for this place too.¡± He stared into his cup, clearly not happy to recount such things. He laughed bitterly, ¡°Most of the treasure room has been spent, years gone by, although I guess there is still a king¡¯s ransom worth in just the furnishings. Do you still wish to marry into a failing house?¡±

    Mariken nodded without hesitation, ¡°It is our duty.¡±

    The steward leaned forward, ¡°And who is this man to you? To whose duty does he belong?¡±

    Karil leaned over protectively, ¡°He¡¯s our chaperone, though he was lost and we adopted him.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a noble in his own right. Someone of a fine lineage, but from a faraway place,¡± Mariken added.

    The old troll¡¯s eyes lit up, and he pressed, ¡°I¡¯d like to hear what he has to say.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to treat with your King, for my friend. She was snatched up, rather crudely, by the Mountain Clan. I also had other companions, although they weren¡¯t friends, to be exact.¡±

    ¡°Interesting. The King does not involve himself with such matters, but I will make inquiries,¡± he got up. ¡°If you will excuse me, I must tend to some business.¡±

    Abraham felt nervous. For all he knew, the old troll was planning something unpleasant, but Abe had no better ideas. If he was to find and free Piro, there was no higher authority in this place, and they had been treated well so far. As the maidens prepared the apartment, he decided to look for some kind of armory and the quickest escape route, just in case. Quickly, he discovered that the place was a maze. He held the oil lamp in front of him, preferring its light to the dim strips. There were stairs that led deeper into the mountain. Abe used a piece of chalky stone to mark the turns, hoping for forgiveness for his mild vandalism. The existing scuffs and cracks helped to mitigate his guilt.

    Abe had gone down a couple levels when he found the armory. Unfortunately, the metal gates were locked. They weren¡¯t sophisticated, but he assumed that breaking in would void any hospitality.

    ¡°That was fruitless,¡± he sighed. Before giving up, he found another passage. It led to a series of chambers that were clearly the dungeons of the place. Arranged under a vaulted space, rows of metal cages lined the stone floor which also had hooks and eye loop rings for attaching chains. He imagined the forlorn prisoners who had been held here. To his relief, they were all empty, although one or two had suspicious bundles in the middle of the cages that he did not examine carefully. Something glinted, making him stop to investigate: one of the cages was open. In the middle there were some discarded items, including a short dagger with a jeweled grip. It was clearly ceremonial, but still had a sharp edge. He slipped it back into its holder, tucking the item into his belt. There was an old piece of paper, but it was crumbling and illegible. The other item was a rotting cloak. If whoever owned these items had died here, they left no bones to haunt him.

    It wasn¡¯t a handgun, but Abe felt better having a backup option. When he got back to the apartment, he hid the knife in the room he had picked for himself. There were three different bedchambers, the smallest clearly for servants, plus a common room, its own kitchen, storage, and a full bath room with its own hearth for heating water. Lamps had been lit, brightening up the area considerably.

    Mariken, diligent as ever, was itemizing their belongings as they setup in one of the main bedchambers. She waved to Abe, ¡°Good, you are back. You can make yourself useful by tending to the fire.¡± By the fire, she meant the one heating up the water for their bath. The room was well crafted, with drainage built into the floor. The actual bath was a large wooden tub placed into a stone cubby andwas large enough for two or even three people. Aril and Karil had already partially filledit up and were preparing to wash. Abe hesitated but they were unfazed as he entered. Mariken showed him where to draw water and the big metal pot used to heat it. He became engrossed in the labor, pumping water from a tap, carrying the heavy bucket to the bath, loading up the pot, stoking up the fire, and then ladling the steaming water over the two women as they washed, being careful not to skald them. It was quite inefficient and time-consuming, but steam soon filled the chamber.

    If their nudity distracted him, he managed to keep it to himself. Clearly, they did not have the same social inhibitions. Abe wondered, ¡°Is all right to be using his lordship, myself in other words, as a servant boy?¡±

    Mariken stepped into the room, already undressed, ¡°We shall take turns, my lord.¡±

    Aril sighed, reluctant to get out of the bath. She noticed the odd look on Abe¡¯s face, ¡°Perhaps you are not used to the ways of our people. We bathe communally, and nobles and servants share the duties, it is an old tradition meant to keep bonds strong.¡± With that, he undressed and in a fresh tub, shared a bath with Mariken as the two others kept fresh, hot, water coming to them.

    Abe washed her back, explaining, ¡°Where I come from, public baths and toilets are separated for male and female.¡±

    Mariken replied, ¡°Some do, but isn¡¯t it more practical to share?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s also a chastity thing,¡± he explained. ¡°And in my culture, virgin brides generally do not mix with the other sex.¡±

    Mariken turned around, surprised, as she asked, ¡°Were you under the impression that we were virgins?¡±

    Aril and Karil laughed.

    ¡°I guess that explains the brothel songs,¡± he said sheepishly. As it turned out, Karil had been engaged, but her groom had run off with another woman. Abe couldn¡¯t understand how this could happen to someone so attractive, but it turned out the other woman¡¯s family was far wealthier. Evidently, gold-digging went both ways in their society. In any case, neither Aril nor Karil were the eldest, who held the inheritance rights, so the dowries of the two sisters were relatively modest. Aril had served as a minstrel in a brothel, but her turns in the hay had been for entertainment, not profit. Her last fling had run off with a prostitute he favored more.

    As for Mariken, she was a widow, as her husband had been executed in disgrace for crimes against the crown. Her face darkened as she vented, ¡°It was the work of our rivals in the family. But I have no vengeance left for him, as he was a cheat and a drunk. He chose the wrong mistress, and it got him killed.¡± It was apparent that she didn¡¯t mind the fact that he had cheated, rather that he had gotten caught.

    Abe realized that they weren¡¯t innocent at all, but fairly world weary. They had come upon this path because other avenues in society had become closed to them. He said, ¡°I guess you don¡¯t marry for love in this world.¡±

    Mariken stared blankly at him, as if a toad has spoken.

    Aril helped dry him off, attempting to grab his crotch which he narrowly avoided, she smirked, ¡°Marriage for love? What madness. A man loves his mistresses or finds a partner in the brothel. I¡¯ve heard them tell stories they never tell their wives. This is what rules a man.¡±

    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s sexual harassment, lady,¡± Abe joked, pulling back, though he half meant it. He did realize that sex obviously meant something totally different in this world. It was both more honest and brutally transactional. Karil dragged him back to the common room. She said, ¡°Have a drink, my lord. Pay my sister no heed¨Cher lusts have carried her off into degeneracy.¡± She shrugged into a nightgown, pouring spiced wine into four goblets. Drying her hair, Aril joined them, soon followed by Mariken. They got drunker as they took turns venting about the unfairness of their lives. Abe had a blanket wrapped around him. Aril kept glancing at him, making no bones that he could have her that night if he so wished.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    A strange sense of ease settled onto Abraham as he realized that he was genuinely happy in that moment. They were speaking to him openly because they trusted him, and the moment felt like something from childhood: pure, unadulterated by pretense or shame, or hidden agendas. It was something he hadn¡¯t even realized he had been looking for, especially later when Karil crawled into bed with him. There was nothing that needed to happen, just the comfort of intimacy without any strings attached. Aril drunkenly stood by the door, once again the last one awake. She said, ¡°Foo, maybe next time.¡± She dragged Mariken from the table where she had fallen asleep, head on her arms.

    Once again, Abraham¡¯s dreams were strange and riddled with desire. He imagined himself back in the dungeon with the open cage, except this time there was someone in it. Of course, it was a woman, wearing a green outfit that barely covered her curves. Her stunning beauty captivated him although he could not quite make out her face. Each time he tried to focus on it, the image slipped from his mind. Lust overcame any sense of reason, as he pulled her out from the cage.

    ¡°Why should I follow you?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I am a king,¡± he said confidently. ¡°You will become my bride.¡±

    ¡°You only want me for my dowry.¡±

    He shook his head adamantly, ¡°No, you are fine beyond imagining. I will love you, as a man should.¡±

    ¡°Then, I have only one request of you,¡± she whispered.

    Abraham put his arms around her, pulling her closer, ¡°Anything within my power.¡±

    ¡°You must take care of me.¡±

    He nodded, his nostrils filled with her scent, ¡°I promise, I swear.¡± There was truth to this, although he had no idea what he was promising.

    Once again, he swam in that dark, deep, sea, but the throbbing heartbeat was louder now.

    The world shook and he opened his eyes.

    Karil looked down at him with a worried expression, ¡°You were yelling in your sleep.¡±

    ¡°Whoa, really? I was having a good dream, I think,¡± he said, rubbing his eyelids. There was no telling what time of day it was. On the second day, it was clear that underground life was not suitable for the average human for any extended period of time, or at least not Abraham, as he missed daylight. The steward gave little information about when they would have an audience with the king. The primary measure of time was a water clock that chimed every hour in the great hall. At some point, although no one saw them work, the pantry had been stocked with fresh food, including slabs of meat kept cool in the darkest recess, vegetables and fruit brought in from the outside, and various preserves.

    Abraham¡¯s patience grew thin, so he finally gathered up the nerve to confront the steward. On the third day, he found him in one of the studies, reading from some old tome under a greasy lamp. Abraham was about to launch into a tirade when the steward spoke up first, ¡°It is time. Follow me.¡±

    Caught aback, Abe probed, ¡°What about the others?¡±

    ¡°Just you for now,¡± the steward said, beckoning for him to follow.

    They walked past the guards who stood at ease as the steward pushed open the big door. It creaked but opened easily. The interior was darker than the hallway. Abraham¡¯s eyes adjusted to the dim antechamber that led into a master bedroom of palatial size. On one side there was a fireplace with two giant wingback chairs set on an embroidered rug. The fire was low, and was the main source of light, so the shadows flickered on the walls. Trying not to trip, Abraham headed toward the chairs as the steward shuffled behind him.

    Abe stared for a moment, before blurting, ¡°Is this a joke?¡±

    Borog scratched his beard, before he lifted a finger, saying, ¡°Ah, I will need to translate.¡± He leaned forward, as if listening intently.

    ¡°That man is dead,¡± Abraham pronounced.

    The steward stared back at him as if he was mad, ¡°Apologies, my liege, the guest does not understand. Yes, I will ask him. Ah, understood. The Great King asks: What are your intents on my daughter?¡±

    Abraham gaped. It was clearly a corpse, long dead, sitting in the chair. The skeletal frame was clothed in a robe that hung open, exposing ribs and desiccated remains. The skull wore a crown over dried patches of flesh, what little remained on the withered face that had been attacked by insects or small animals. At least, it must have rotted long ago, as there was no longer a foul stench, though Abraham avoided breathing deeply. The air in the room smelled ancient, and nothing of life.

    ¡°Daughter?¡± asked Abraham.

    The steward nodded, continuing his translation of the dead man¡¯s speech, ¡°Yes, you met her last night. You made promises.¡±

    Shocked, Abraham understood, ¡°But that was just a dream.¡±

    The steward frowned, consulting the dead man once more, for what seemed like several minutes. He repeated, ¡°The King says you accepted the promise, and possess the token that was given.¡±

    Abraham¡¯s face flushed. Did he mean the dagger?

    Borog continued, ¡°The marriage will take place in the Great Hall as soon as the bride is prepared. I will show you to the wardrobe, where we keep the proper outfit. Come, we must make preparations.¡±

    Abraham backed away, holding up his hands, ¡°I think this is a mistake. I wasn¡¯t planning on marrying so soon, especially to someone I only met in a dream. She was beautiful, so that¡¯s not why I have to take a raincheck¡­¡±

    The two guards hovered over him. He couldn¡¯t see their expressions through their helmets, but their clubs convinced him that he should follow the steward. The corpse remained sitting, staring into nothingness just as it had when they had entered.

    As they walked, the steward kept talking, ¡°It is a good thing. The King has been looking for an heir for a long time. Once you are married, there will be much to do to return this place to its former glory.¡±

    ¡°Just where is the bride?¡± Abraham asked without much hope. He fully expected another corpse.

    ¡°She is arriving quite soon, in full raiment, as promised,¡± Borog stated. They arrived in a room that Abe hadn¡¯t seen before during his exploration. It was a deep, vaulted, chamber filled with chests, shelves, and standing wardrobes overflowing with dusty old clothes. Some were ruined by neglect, but Borog headed straight to a particular wardrobe that appeared more ornate than the others. He unsealed its lock, opening it to reveal an array of finery that would have impressed a modern follower of the haute couture. Borog took measurements before selecting what he considered the most appropriate items: fine hose, underclothes, a gilded jacket, matching tunic, belt, and accessories.

    ¡°I will have these fitted for your frame,¡± the steward said. ¡°For now, you may return to the apartment and rest.¡±

    When he returned, somewhat dazed, he noticed a large bag in the common room. Before he could ask about it, Aril came in to take it back into their bed chamber. Karil tumbled in, eager to ask about his meeting, ¡°Did you see him? Is he handsome and regal?¡±

    ¡°You might want to sit down. Get the others in here,¡± he said. ¡°And more wine. You¡¯re going to need it.¡±

    He avoided talking about the state of the King, instead letting them know about his imminent wedding.

    Mariken took it in stride, ¡°I assume we will act as the bridesmaids. It will be an honor, my lord. We will need to make preparations. Who is cooking the feast? What entertainments are planned?¡±

    Abraham shrugged, ¡°I am not sure. All the details were vague. I only know that it will happen in two days. A shotgun wedding, so to speak.¡±

    Karil looked thoughtful, ¡°Cousin, does that mean our friend would become our son-in-law?¡±

    ¡°We need an audience with the King ourselves first,¡± Mariken chided. ¡°We must prepare, come.¡± The three retired to their chamber in order to make plans. Abraham felt a little left out, as they¡¯d spoken freely before this. Dinner was short and perfunctory, and this time he slept alone.

    The next day he spent in restless anticipation, wondering if he should make a break for it. When the clock told him it was late afternoon, he should have suspected something when he¡¯d bumped into Aril carrying another large sack. She¡¯d rushed off without much explanation. He assumed it was laundry but his assessment changed when later he wandered back into Great Hall. It took him a moment, but he realized what had changed: items had been moved or were missing, including a set of jeweled tumblers that had been set on one of the side tables. The gilded edges of the hanging tapestries had been cut away, holes left where precious gems had been pried out of the furnishings. Gold accessories were missing from the wall sconces.

    A cold realization hit Abraham: the maidens had come as thieves. Or perhaps, upon seeing the destitute state of the keep, they had changed their minds. In either case, they were opportunists who were intent on taking what they could. He didn¡¯t mind this¨Che just wished they had trusted him enough to include him in their plans. When he returned to the apartment, it was obvious that they had fled.

    ¡°Shit,¡± he said to himself. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me here to marry a rotting corpse!¡± He grabbed a sack of supplies, a spare lamp, and the dagger in order to make his own escape. Abraham only managed to make it down one hallway before he saw that his path was blocked by a guard. It was clear that he wasn¡¯t going that way. Whistling nonchalantly, he turned heel to find an alternate path. In the end it didn¡¯t matter, there was a guard on every passageway. He could have sworn that there were only two, and each time he saw a guard, it seemed to be the same fellow, or at least the rust pattern on his armor seemed the same.

    Finally, feeling abandoned and hopeless, he returned to the apartment. He uncorked a fresh jar of wine from the pantry, found a wheel of cheese, and walked back to the common room table where he got drunk and stuffed himself on moldy cheese. It made him gassy, so he was farting by the time the steward returned.

    Borog said, ¡°Rest well, the wedding will occur as scheduled. As for the maids, well, this is not the first time we have been visited by common thieves. They will be dealt with accordingly.¡±

    Abraham shuddered, his mind imagining what that might entail. He gripped the dagger, but it would be of no use against armor. That night, he barely slept, as his mind was full of churning thoughts. They probably weren¡¯t noble girls at all and the expensive items they had were probably stolen as well. With a sense of hopelessness, he let the steward dress him in the elaborate finery. Unlike the rest of the things in the place, the suit seemed freshly minted.

    Looking at himself in a floor standing mirror, Abe thought he looked pretty smashing in the outfit. He proclaimed, ¡°Henry Tudor would look on me and weep.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve come around to it, I knew you would,¡± Borog approved.

    ¡°I guess someone wants me to be a King of this joint, who am I to refuse?¡± Abraham said with only a hint of sarcasm. ¡°It means I inherit this dump, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, but as I mentioned, the mountain is no longer safe. Our enemies already make their moves, there has been blood spilled and much more to come. Even now, Shay blood is being shed on the slopes. Once you have taken the bride, you will be escorted to the place that was promised.¡±

    ¡°That sounds familiar. I thought I heard someone else mention something like that,¡± Abraham mused. Was this all fated, then? Some machination of an unknown power. If so, who?

    The Great Hall was fully lit now by torches on the wall that emitted a bright glow that resembled daylight. He could now see the full splendor of the place, undiminished by time and the looting, as it stretched behind him. Abe waited patiently at the altar, standing under resplendent tapestries that still glittered although their bottoms had been stripped. There were rows of seats, enough for a hundred or more guests. The steward waited patiently like a priest at the steps.

    Abe asked once more, ¡°So, why me? I¡¯m just a man, not one of you.¡±

    ¡°Let me ask you instead, what is the difference between man and troll?¡±

    As soon as he was about to mention their greed, sexual appetites, violence, and cannibalism, he realized that humanity had nothing to be proud of in its history as well. He laughed, ¡°Good point.¡±

    A strange music seemed to play in the air, and Abraham imagined, for a brief moment, that he could see the Fay court spread out in front of him as he had a momentary glimpse into another universe. The hair on his neck crawled as he finally heard the beat of a distant drum, and footsteps. At the far end of the hall, the doors swung open, in stepped the guards, followed by a giant troll. Abraham instantly recognized him as the one who had struck him in the head. Beside the giant demi-human, a small figure wearing a green wedding gown complete with a veil stood.

    The steward beckoned them, but the big man was already striding forward, a glare on his face. He stared down at Abraham, ¡°What manner of foolishness is this?¡± His hands clenched a box, apparently a wedding gift. He looked like he wanted to beat Abraham to death with it.

    ¡°The King has made his wishes known. This is the appointed time, as promised. Give me the items,¡± the steward put his hand out. Reluctantly, the troll chieftain gave it over.

    ¡°My people are holding out in the caves, but we¡¯re bottled up above the snow line now. They have the passes covered with their marksmen and they are using explosives to seal off the high village. This will be our last winter here,¡± the chief growled, clenching his fists. ¡°If we try to go down, they will slaughter us, if we stay up here, we will eventually be starved out. This keep can save a few for a while.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, bring as many as you can, but this will not be the final stop. There is a passage, an old one, but it is still open. It will take you to the far valley. When you are strong enough, come back, and take this place back. There is some gold left in the treasure house. Take as much as you can carry, plus anything else. But first, the wedding.¡±

    ¡°Why not that first, and the wedding later? Why must we waste our time with this nonsense? By rights, I should take the throne, although I share no blood with the old King, I am still of the Clan!¡±

    The steward roared, ¡°Exactly, you share no blood with the Great King! His line is dead and gone, so his lineage is now by his will alone. It is his grace to give, not yours.¡± Whatever power the old troll held, it was enough to seal the lips of the chieftain who stood at the ready. Borog said, ¡°Now, young lady, step forth to complete this ceremony.¡± The lights seemed to brighten as the woman, apparently wholly alive and not some ghost, stepped forth. Abraham peered at his bride to be, a great suspicion forming in his mind. He felt dizzy. The ceremonial dagger at his side seemed to hum in anticipation.

    He managed to speak despite the circumstances, ¡°Really? So that''s the way this will go. I''m good with it, then.¡± He said this to no one in particular. In the end, it didn¡¯t matter, as soon as she lifted the veil, Abraham swept her up into his arms.

    Piro looked up at him, tears in her eyes, as she said, ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡±

 Chapter 11: Siege

    Bailey wasn¡¯t just their armorer but also their best sharp shooter. Blind Eye came up to check on his position on the overlook. Bailey had set up a nice shade for himself as he sat with his long rifle in hand on a rock he¡¯d covered with a blanket for comfort. The heavy barrel of the rifle was propped up on a monopod so he could steady it without much strain. Blind Eye handed him and his assistant, a youth named Jaymon, warm flasks of mildly alcoholic brew.

    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± Bailey said, pleased. Jaymon maintained the lookout for the moment, trading positions with the rifle, as Bailey stretched, uncorking the flask to take a swig. ¡°Been quiet. They got smart after I popped a couple of their melons. It¡¯s nice not having to worry about counter-fire. They don¡¯t have anyone who can shoot on their side.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re trolls, what do you want? Sneaky bastards though. Caught a few trying to come up on the other side.¡±

    Bailey nodded, ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m glad you have my back.¡± Blind Eye tipped his own flask against Bailey¡¯s.

    Blind Eye noted, ¡°Made yourself a nice nest I see.¡± He nodded to where Bailey¡¯s servant woman was preparing ingredients for luncheon. It wasn¡¯t unusual to bring womenfolk along, but they usually stayed further behind, especially in this territory. If she was afraid, she didn¡¯t show it. She was a weary looking hill woman who seemed jaded by hardship.

    Bailey was aware of Blind Eye¡¯s consideration, remarking, ¡°I promised Tanila a cut of my danger pay.¡±

    The Company had rolled up the trolls easily enough so far. The advantage in firepower was just too much to counter. One on one, the trolls could tear a man apart withtheir bare hands, but only if they were allowed to get that close in the first place. The riskiest for them was to face the trolls in the thick of the forest so they had used light cannon to prepare the way as much as they could, flushing out any resistance with concentrated force though much of the blasting probably just scared off the wild life. After that, the cannons and mortars had to be taken apart and carried up to positions, a real chore. They had enough conscripts for that purpose. They were just fodder to keep the trolls distracted while the real squads took the important trailheads and forced the trolls to either fight to defend their scattered homesteads or flee. Once they had pushed up above the tree line, there wasn¡¯t much cover for the big demi-humans to try to sneak up on the advancing mercenaries who took full advantage wherever they could of their longer reach. Resistance had been light, as if the trolls had no stomach to fight them head on. Bailey knew that was too good to hold true for too long.

    Bailey had found a nice spot that covered one of the main access trails to the troll stronghold. Other squads had blocked off the other access points, essentially setting up a siege. It was too risky to actually storm the troll¡¯s mountain hidden redoubt, as the narrow passages made it suicidal for the point men. Right now, it was a stalemate.

    Bailey suddenly cursed, ¡°Hey, boy, and keep your grubby fingers off the trigger. If you see something, let me know.¡± Turning to Blind Eye, he gave a wry smile, ¡°Kid¡¯s still learning. He¡¯s got better eyes than I do, but no discipline. So, how long we camping up here? It gets cold at night, and I want to get back to my warm bed.¡±

    ¡°Cap¡¯s working on something,¡± Blind Eye responded. He nodded downslope where the main contingent was bivouacked. ¡°We got enough spare powder to blow the top of the mountain off, if necessary.¡±

    Bailey snorted, almost spitting out his brew, ¡°Damn straight. I accounted for it. Glad I didn¡¯t have to haul it up here myself. Well, enough chit-chat, back to work for me.¡± He finished off his flask, tossed it aside, gave a loose salute, and returned to his position. Blind Eye gave him a nod and trundled off. All the old formalities from their original regiment had given way to an easy comradery which was fine in Blind Eye¡¯s mind.

    In the troll camp, Piro knew something was happening but she only had the vaguest notions. It was comfortable enough living in the chieftain¡¯s household. The other trolls gave her a wide berth, respecting the authority of the giant man. He was gone most of the time on his business which she suspected was also martial in nature, as she could peek outside and see that the village was alive with activity. Men were busy honing their weapons while the other village members prepared bandages, poultices, and litters. She knew enough from her childhood that they were preparing for battle, although against whom she had no idea.

    They did not seem concerned that she could escape so after the first day she was allowed to roam somewhat freely but whenever she wandered too far there was always a minder who would corral her back. She ended up giving some comfort to the other prisoner, the battered scout, Leaves. He seemed much better now compared to the first night when she had thought he would expire. His captors also seemed to have a change of mood although he remained shackled. Piro checked the man¡¯s bandages at the same time she brought him some food.

    ¡°What is this slop?¡± he complained, but he ate all that was offered, leaving nothing to waste.

    She sat down to begin her own form of interrogation, ¡°Do you know what is going on?¡±

    He shook his head, ¡°Not exactly, but I think some sort of arrangement will be made with Mrs. Gong. I don¡¯t know what kind of game her granddaughter has been playing but if they meant to kill us, they would have already.¡±

    ¡°Where is she?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see, but I am sure she is alive,¡± he said. Piro could not tell if he was hopeful or disappointed by this knowledge. As if answering a different question, he continued, ¡°Our people have a certain, troubled, relationship with our fellows. We do not recognize the Troll King, except as a minor lord, so this has caused a long dispute between us that has led to several blood feuds.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t expect to be alive this time,¡± she added, rhetorically.

    ¡°No, but now I see that the Clan chieftain plans something else, perhaps to arrange for a truce so we can join against the forces who would take what little is left of this land.¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t agree?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I would love for it to happen, if it would succeed,¡± he spat. His expression changed to one of exhausted despair, one formed over years of disappointment. ¡°The Clan is almost as diminished as ours. This small camp is all that is left, it seems. It wouldn¡¯t be enough even if we had ten or twenty times more.¡±

    Something from her old past rose up in her gullet. She said, sharply, ¡°Isn¡¯t it better to die fighting, than to give up without hope?¡± However, she wasn¡¯t sure if that was directed at him, or to herself.

    The next day, signs of conflict began appearing, as the mood of the camp turned darker. There was some wailing that she heard during the night but she was not allowed to see the source of the commotion, but the grim expressions was enough to tell her that the news was not good. As the week passed, the village filled up with more people, swelling to almost twice its original size in population.. Piro knew enough to be able to discern that many were refugees: she recognized the dazed look. However, they must have known this would happen well in advance, as they brought supplies with them. It appeared that they were preparing for a siege.

    It was the charm that saved Bailey¡¯s life, he was sure of it. He¡¯d bought it from some witchy woman in town, although it was considered a sacrilege to some. Old Rob had never been one for religion, so any would do in a pinch in his eyes. The arrow, imbued with its own magic, had flown much faster and further than any that could be sent by mere human means. It missed his jugular by mere inches and had enough strength despite its long flight to run him through except it had struck the stock of the rifle, shattering it like a bullet would have. He immediately leapt down from his perch shouting for his assistant and woman to join him amongst the crags.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Tanila wiped the blood from the cuts on his face as he babbled, ¡°Fuck me. That was a twig arrow. I swear by my own gear, but it would be nice to have something so quiet and true.¡± While picking pieces of arrow off, he put down the broken rifle down as Jaymon readied to give him the alternate, primed and ready. He debated sticking his head out to scan for where the arrow had come from, but it had been totally silent. Bailey only knew that it probably hadn¡¯t come from the direction of their own camp downslope, but he¡¯d have to risk it going down to find out. ¡°Screw it,¡± he said. ¡°Load me up a flash charge on big bossy.¡± He stood up, shot off a quick round in a random direction and scooted back down immediately. Nothing happened, but he wasn¡¯t a fool. They had made him good, and if it was him, he¡¯d be waiting for the right time to finish him off if he even had a hair sticking out for too long.

    Jaymon had the blunderbuss loaded up with the special round as he handed off the rifle for a reload. Bailey fired it off into the sky as Tanila covered her ears. The camp would see and hear it, and know his position was compromised. He expected the camp to start firing off their mortars at any time to keep the enemy honest. Hopefully, they¡¯d be able to send some troops out to cut off whoever had him pinned, but there would be precious time for the trolls, and their allies, to make a move on the trail. He didn¡¯t think they¡¯d try to take out his spot which was quite a distance afield but he had Jaymon get the pistols and grenades ready, just in case. In the distance, he could hear the pop from the rifles of other shooters, so something was happening all around. Tanila looked at him accusingly, as if blaming him for signing up for this expedition. It had been cake so far, so Bailey, after years of experience, hadn¡¯t expected it to last as long as it had. He rubbed the charm in his pocket, giving it thanks.

    He gave Tanila a wry smirk, ¡°Either way, I guess I¡¯m not getting a blowie tonight, am I?¡±

    Mrs. Gong¡¯s promised reinforcements managed to make a brief break in the lines, bringing in much needed supplies and extra fighters, including a small clutch of Shay warriors. Piro could see that the villagers were ambivalent toward the newcomers. Leaves was unceremoniously released from his cage. If he was displeased by the bargain, he did not show any overt resentment although he spoke little to his comrades. The three bowmen from their original scout party, quite hale, were part of the contingent. They studiously avoided their former lead. Senua Gong finally made her appearance, beside the Clan Chieftain, declaring the new alliance between the two factions against all enemies. The commander of the new force was Millon Gong, one of Senua Gong¡¯s uncles. An advisor from the Shay council of elders, one named Frost, stood alongside. He was wiry and appeared to be quite frail.

    There was a celebration thrown to seal the deal, but the bleakness of their situation even with the fresh aide dampened the proceedings. Caution prevailed for the most part, meaning that they ate sparingly, not knowing how long the rations would be forced to last. Despite their arrival, there was no guarantee of regular supplies in such a fashion.

    Later, the leadership, including Senua Gong, gathered in the big man¡¯s house. Piro was allowed to assist in serving the group with the chieftain¡¯s wife. The big chieftain dominated the circle as Millon Gong sat to his right and Frost opposite. Senua sat to his left, closer than appropriate. The children were sent off to stay with extended family. Senua Gong pulled Piro aside when she leaned over to refill her drink bowl, ¡°Ah, our tasty treat is still alive and well I see. Join me later for a bath.¡±

    Piro looked nervously at the chieftain, who said, ¡°That is fine. However, do not spoil her.¡±

    If her uncle noticed Senua¡¯s expression of annoyance, he did not say, remarking to the chieftain, ¡°How is your lord doing, if I may inquire?¡± He was a middle-aged man with a regal bearing of his own although, technically, the Gong¡¯s bore no titles. The family¡¯s power was a combination of their monetary influence as well as their association by marriage to the Shay royalty; however, this did not confer any official titles to them in any capacity. Certainly, none recognized by any other elites of the world.

    The chieftain¡¯s eyes turned cold, ¡°He¡¯s the Great King, not a mere lordling. The time for his ascendency will come again.¡±

    Senua patted Piro on the head, ¡°And a fresh bride for his house. He has a famous appetite does he not?¡±

    Piro¡¯s face turned pale. Almost dropping the serving pitcher, she continued to top off the drinks. The men continued their dialogue in the tongue of the Shay. Although not fluent, Millon Gong kept up with the conversation easily enough.

    The chieftain said, ¡°And what of the mad king? Any news?¡±

    Frost, holding a cup to his thin mouth, shook his head, ignoring the slight, ¡°His entourage was last heard to be on the road to Timol. In his stead, the council runs the territory as you know. Their word, and of Jantilla Gong, hold true.¡± Jantilla being Mrs. Gong¡¯s name. Everyone knew that the council was a sham, as Mrs. Gong actually ran the whole thing as a de facto ruler.

    Gint, the chieftain, gave him a look of pure disgust, ¡°And so the high Shay fall to the dust.¡±

    ¡°We are not the ones hiding on a mountain!¡± Frost sputtered.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll be next, you know it. That¡¯s why you¡¯re helping us now.¡±

    The argument was circular, and to Senua, pointless. She retired, pulling Piro along. There was a private bath built up for Senua with the water heated up with rocks brought by attendants. Once again, Piro served as her wash girl.

    ¡°Relax,¡± Senua snapped after a while. ¡°Don¡¯t sit there like that, lean back.¡± Above them, the night stars glittered, coldly. ¡°Life is short, so you might as well enjoy it. A hot bath is the perfect thing, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Piro shivered despite herself, ¡°Why do they fight for this place? I understand why the trolls do, to protect their homes, but the rest.¡±

    ¡°As for the Company,¡± Senua explained, apparently feeling loquacious. ¡°They are under the illusion that there is a wealth of gold and treasure up here. Of course, the coffers of the Troll King were depleted long ago, as well as of my own house. My father spends what is left whoring and gambling. Timol is one of those places, although not as prestigious as the great whore capital of Artemisia in the far west, where they say the silver and gold coins used to fall like leaves and the prostitutes, both men and women, would trade any sin for coin, as it was known. At least until the dark one came and slaughtered them all, and took what was left for his own pleasure.¡±

    Piro stiffened, ¡°The dark one?¡±

    ¡°Better not to speak too much of him,¡± Senua changed the subject. ¡°I guess you heard, you are to be offered to the Troll King. It is a great honor.¡±

    Piro clutched at herself, too numb to respond. She seemed lost in some bitter memory.

    Senua kept talking, settling back so that the steaming water hit her chin, ¡°Ah. I¡¯m almost curious as to what it would be like. Very few are allowed into the secret Hall where he lives. I¡¯ve begged Gint to take me there but he refuses. Well, things will change.¡±

    Piro stared at nothing as she bit her lip, causing a bud of scarlet blood to form.

    <hr>

    Excerpt from the Trials of Margret Beatrice of the First Ward by her second, Warren Viro Quantelle.

    I still remember that day. The smell of the blood¨Cand the color of it¨Cas it spilled from the throats of my sisters. There was so much of it. Margret¡¯s expression never wavered, even as she stood as second for the decimation. We had chosen by lot, those of us to die. The ones who drew the straws paired up in the old way. The emperor had allowed us that tradition at least. How brave! They had held the knives up to each other¡¯s throats in the ancient ceremonial stance passed down to us from our ancestors.

    Margret led the count, and each of the resplendent warriors struck at her sister without hesitation. It was almost perfection, as the blades cross their necks at the same moment. Only one flaw: a blond Therungian girl had clutched at her throat, as her partner had just missed the critical veins as she died. Calmly, Margret had ordered me to lift up the poor warrior¡¯s braids, so she could give the final blow with the heavy executioner¡¯s sword.

    We had all given our word, so the weapons were handed back without argument and the remains of our sisters were gathered up to be taken to the pits for disposal. As was tradition, we, the living, had turned our backs to our fallen, for their bodies did not hold their spirits any longer. We gave the chant, promising them that we would see them again at the head waters of sweet Daphne, our goddess. The crowd had spit on the corpses, hooting and cheering, but we did not curse them for it. The flesh was just flesh, and as such meaningless. Unlike others, we did not idolize the flesh, so why should we rebuke those who would mean to desecrate them? Our spirits were beyond such things, pure.

    Still, when Margret stood by my side once more, her eyes bore down on the emperor¡¯s cadre with a fire I had never seen from her before, or since. She said to me, ¡°There is a way. Listen. We will endure the darkest of our days to become one of his harem.¡± She pointed her chin to the attendants at his feet. They were chosen from the best of the land, carefully anointed and indoctrinated. Margret meant for those of us who survived to infiltrate those ranks, and to assassinate the black lord in his den.

    ¡°Surely, we are not the first to attempt this,¡± I said.

    ¡°Still, we must try. Promise me you will join me in this, even if all of our honor shall be spoiled for eternity and our souls banished from the high waters for it.¡±

    Of course, what else could I do but agree?