“Because then you will not only be the savior of all Skald, but placed to take the Jarl’s seat.” My eyes widened as he went on. “The Jarl believes I long to replace him. He believes there are enemies lurking in the shadows all around him, believes that I want to be Jarl of Wolf Rein. But he’s wrong, Rothan. I don’t want to be Jarl.” He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I want you to be.”
8
The manor was sleeping, with only embers lingering at the hearth fire. I walked across the hall in near dark, knowing every corner, every stone crevice in the walls. Reaching my chamber, I entered and saw Bellabel seated on the floor in front of a single candle, hands folded as she finished her devotion to her god.
She turned and the candlelight glowed against the form of her cheek as it rose in a smile.
“There is my wolf,” she whispered as I neared and sat on the ground next to her.
“There... is my sorceress.”
She ran her hand along my forearm. “Your family is very kind to receive me.”
“They… they are good.” I thought now, of how I would explain all that was happening. “Bellabel, I must tell you something, for the longer I wait the more it will pain me. My father, he has arranged some things that I must do. You see, I am to marry another. I am to marry a noble woman. It is for the benefit of our house, for all our people. So for a time, we must not let it be known that you are my concubine. I must… say that you are only a servant. A new maid that I have brought to clean and cook in our manor.”
I looked to her and saw a glimmer of hurt in her eyes. Yet, still she smiled. “Rothan... that is what I am. Why should it hurt me to be called servant? Why should it hurt me to be said that you won me, for you truly have. You won my body that night you fought, and you have won my heart by your deeds since.”
“Bellabel,” I said, touching her face. “I do not want you to be my servant. Understand this. It will be only words. It is just that I… you will understand this better than anyone, the gods have taken a hand in my life. I have a duty to this land, to my people. Only I can carry this duty… so I must fulfill it. But once I fulfill it, I will be free. Not only that, but I will be a mighty warlord, a Jarl, and my word shall be as a command to thousands. So then, there will be no need to hide what we truly are. Believe in my word.”
“I know you speak true. I know this. Do not doubt my trust in you.”
“We can still tell those closest to me, those I trust, what we are. But only them.” I pulled her close to me. “Say that you wish to return to your lands, and I will find a way to get you there.”
“I wish… to serve you, and to be at your side.” Saying this, she leaned in and kissed me. My hands ran through her thick locks as our lips sank into one another.
“Your body truly is warm against the chill air,” I said, looking into her gold flecked eyes. “It’s just as we said it would be.”
“Yes, just as we said it would be.” She lay against me, and though most nights she would have gone on eagerly pleasuring me, this night she only curled into me, and lay silent as a cold iron.
I couldn’t sleep, but tossed in bed, visions of the black Orc and Gannon’s death flashing to me. The haunting sound of Eric’s bones breaking. Eating the flesh of the guards who stood over my cloth draped body. Marrying a noble woman. She’d be disgusted by the mere way that I ate and drank. The way I sat, the way I spoke. And gods knew what the Jarl would say. Death. Carnage. Blood. Secrets. They made me toss and grind my teeth.
I draped a cloak over my shoulders, then silently stepped out, being careful not to wake Bellabel. The day was just beginning to taint the sky like blood out of a wound. The cold air was calling to me.
Wolf Rein was still waking. Here and there a shop door was opening or small groups of peasants were loading wagons, milking cows, taking hot bread from ovens.
I pulled the cloak over my face, wanting to remain unknown, but even so I was twice recognized. I made courteous nods and carried on.
I walked until I reached the outskirts of town. Here the woodlands began encroaching on the human realm. My senses were more than alive now, and so I could take in the smells of sod, animals, a flurry of flowers and weeds. I reached a small wood house with a thatched roof and a single stone that lay before it, bearing the sigil of the family Bortuskein. Memories came flooding back to me, as I stood in front of that small house in a green field.
I knocked on the front door, and there was no answer. I knocked again. And still no answer. “Kyra! I called and looked around to see if I might spot her. “Kyra!”
The door swung open. It was Dagg, Kyra’s father. He was a giant coal oven in clothes, with a broad jaw, a flat broken nose. The blond curls that twisted down his head had now turned silver. The years had added a massive gut to him, and he moved now with less grace than I remembered. I quickly saw why. He had a wooden leg.
“Dagg, what happened to your leg?”
“Boar hunting, what else.”
“I’m sorry....”
“Sorry? You’re not the boar. I ate the bastard!” The smell of ale was heavy on him, and he slurred his words like he had an old shoe for a tongue. We northerners liked our drink, but this was strange at early dawn. He must have had the drinking sickness—who could blame him after losing a leg, proud man like that. “You’re not here about my leg—let’s say it like it is. You’re here about my daughter, so you can go on fucking her in her big arse.”
“Dagg! Watch how you speak of her. She’s your own daughter.”
“And have I said something that ain’t true?”
“It’s no like that. I care for her, I even—I care for her. You know this, Dagg. We haven’t seen each other in five years. And I just...”
“Hah! It’s alright, Rothan, the whole town wants to fuck her, and half have tried. Gods I hope less have succeeded, but just try getting her to talk to me about it.” He could barely stand as he headed inside and poured himself another drink at his small table. I followed him inside the dingy hovel. “Well I have to disappoint you, Rothan, but she’s spoken for. Five years is too long for any woman to wait, much less one like that. Two and twenty—she’s getting up in years. An unmarried girl that age, it’s a problem. Had to solve it! I had my reasons, Rothan. I can’t have her going on taking care of me forever—you think I like being like this?”
“She’s… married?”
“Almost. She’s promised. But maybe you can give her a few pokes before she ties the knot eh? I’m sure you’ll try. You’re not the worst of them, not by far! Ha!” He took a large swig from his giant’s mug. “Why don’t you go on ask her all this yourself and quit bothering me. Can’t you see, I’m calling on a lady of my own?” He sensually ran a finger along his frothy mug and laughed a rotten toothed guffaw. “Bahahahaha!”
I nodded slightly as I made for the door. “Things will get better for you, Dagg. You will see.”
“Eh, I don’t need your stinking…” he took a gurgling swig, “your stinking peasantries, or what’s the word? Haha!”
The woods grew thicker as I walked, and I found myself overwhelmed by all the smells, the sounds of life everywhere. If I knew Kyra at all, she would be out here, hunting or foraging, chopping firewood perhaps.
A scent came to me, a human one that stood out from the constant musk of squirrel, the pungent scent of mushrooms and humus mixed with the constant smell of pine needles and sap. I stalked forward, following the scent, careful where I stepped. It was as if my beast began taking over—my movements were fluid, my eyes piercing farther and farther through the maze of trees.
The scent became stronger—I could feel the vitality in it, and there was a distinct musk to it, that told me it must be female. Kyra…. The thought made me smile. I crouched by some saplings, and peered as far as I could with my vision. Up ahead I could see the bright blonde locks or her wild mane, moving ever so slowly. Her body was tensed, her back muscular, yet still covered in the soft skin of a woman, a tawny glow over her beige skin that brought out her a
lready leonine beauty. Her hips were ample and together with her thighs made her frame all sculpted curves. She had a bow in her hand, arrow notched though not drawn. She was hunting an elk whose scent came roaring to me now, and whose pelt I could just barely see farther past Kyra. I did not want to disrupt her kill, so I watched as her powerful legs flexed, carrying her ever so silently.
She drew. Aimed. I could see her breathing slow. She became as still as one of the trees around her, her brown garments blending into the maze of tree trunks. She fired.
The bow twanged and the arrow hissed. The elk brayed and thrashed among foliage.
I stood to congratulate her, when I saw her turn, a scowl of concentration on her face, an arrow notched. She loosed. My eyes widened and everything seemed to slow as I saw the arrow piercing the air toward me. My beast took over as with one swift movement I swiveled my body and snapped my arm in front of me. Before I knew it, the arrow was in my hand.
I looked between the arrow and Kyra, who was some fifty yards away. Our eyes locked for a long moment. I felt seventeen again, as if it were another day wandering the forest with her.
“Rothan….?” she said, dropping her bow in disbelief. “Rothan!” A smile bloomed all over her face.
“Your aim has gotten better! But I’m not an elk!”
“You, you’re here!” She ran to me, leaping over greenery and massive roots as easily as a spring deer. I hopped down a small embankment, over a fallen tree trunk and ran to meet her.
She threw herself into my arms and I squeezed her close. I felt her hands clench around my back.
“By Fenris, I knew I’d find you out here, Kyra.”
“Rothan….” Her voice seemed to change, and she freed herself of my embrace. “You pig-headed ass-faced turkey! I could have killed you just now!”
“It takes more than an arrow from a wee lass,” I teased. Just a step away from her, I could see the green of her eyes now under her wavy bangs, her figure that was muscular yet feminine, with wide hips, full breasts, and arms to rival a man’s. As our eyes locked this close, I was overwhelmed by memories and by desires. “Kyra… you don’t know how good it is to see you.” I reached my arms out to embrace her again, but she stepped back.
“Rothan, the elk. I have to finish it.”
“Aye… true enough. I’ll help you.”
The blood draining from the elk cow was sending shudders of hunger through me, and so was Kyra’s presence. The beast in me seemed agitated, overwhelmed by the call of primal urges, to kill and feed, to possess and breed.
Kyra drew out a hunting knife. Glanced at me with her emerald eyes. She was as beautiful as I remembered, with those eyes that were all concentration and leonine strength, a tapering jawline, long slightly upturned nose, and naturally rosy lips, the bottom of which was fuller and so seemed as though a resting place for the other. “I’ll cut into her. You can help me dispose as I go.”
I did not want more blood around me. “I’ll carry her back to your home. You can skin and clean her there…”
“Rothan, she’s 600 pounds at least.”
“What of it…” I began to say, only to realize I must hide my new found strength, this new… side of me, for father had counseled me so. “Aye, I meant… I was just japing.”
“Well rather than japing make yourself useful then and help me turn her.”
I gently nudged the elk, letting Kyra put some of her strength to it. She took the blade and cut into the stomach, letting blood flow. I clenched my teeth. How could raw meat be so desirable… My arms were shaking as I tried to control myself. As Kyra worked, I caught sight of her tawny breasts swaying under her small tunic. I clenched my teeth harder still, feeling my heart throb.
“It’s impressive, Kyra.” Human conversation seemed to help keep my beast from taking complete control. “You have become a real hunter.”
“Well, I’ve had to. A drunken father, a mother off with some rich prick and two brothers at constant call of war means I’ve had to learn to stand on my own.”
“You’ve always been on your own. Even when you were a girl.” I plucked a twig from the ground and chewed on it, hoping it would distract me. It worked for hounds, why not for me. “Your father says… you won’t have to stand on your own for long, that you’ll be married soon.” The thought brought more of the human side back to my mind. “I understand why you could not wait for me.”
“I did wait for you. Even when you were here. But while I waited you bedded half the girls in town.”
“I was barely a man grown. You had to know that you were different.”
“Then when you left, there was never a message. Not one.”
“I was at war. Then I was a prisoner. I… I am not one for letters.”
“I’m marrying Dak Ashhands, the smith.”
“I never took you to love… a smith twice your age.”
“Love,” she laughed. “Rothan, we’re not children anymore. Dak is a an old fat man, but his purse is just as fat. An uncle of his is passing his iron ore mine to him. So I’ll be a rich man’s wife soon, so I’m told.”
“You will make a terrible rich man’s wife.”
“I’d rather be fighting greenskins with my brothers or out sailing as a sellsword, but my father, the Jarl’s laws and Dak would rather make a lady out of me. So I’ll give them a lady. A lady from hell they’ll get.”
“You could be a shield maiden. My great grandmother was one, they tell me.”
“So was mine.”
“So there you are. Wolf Rein will need all the warriors it can find to fight the Orcs off. Take up a sword, and we can fight together. We’ll win glory, gold, have tales to tell over mead. There are plenty of songs about shield maidens. You’ll be just like our ancestors.”
She looked up at me for a moment as she cut through elk pelt. “Different times, different kings. Besides, if you think Dak will rule me as he did his dead wife, you should not bet on the Moot contests. I will do as I please, as long as I… fulfill some of my wifely duties. And if he ever seeks to try me, he will end up worse than this elk.”
She ripped its skin open and entrails poured out.
We walked with enormous slabs of meat hanging over our shoulders. The weight was some two hundred pounds on me alone, but it was not why I was sweating with exertion. I was blinking, feeling veins throb on my forehead. The smell of raw meat was driving my beast mad. I could barely grunt out words, and so I only told Kyra the barest form of my life for the past five years. When I came to telling her of Bellabel, I could see surprise on her face turn into resignation. Even while I lived here in Wolf Rein, she had not been the only woman I bedded, and why should that change while I was away warring and as a slave for five years? All I said of my escape was that One Eye and other northmen had helped me battle out of Kenessos, but did not mention that I had become half beast.
We made it back to her father’s house and I took all the meat and hung it on meat hooks she had set out. I slung the meat as easily as I would a dead rabbit.
She looked at me suspiciously for a moment. “You were always strong, but now, your strength is like a bull’s. And the way you caught that arrow—was quick as a mountain cat. What has happened to you?”
“Many years of fighting, in battles, in arenas—I suppose. When I left I was only twenty. I had not yet grown into full manhood.” She stared at me silently. “Kyra, I have not told you... but my father intends for me to marry the Jarl’s daughter.”
“Siv?”
“Aye, she’s his only daughter, is she not?”
“Aye… I just always imagined she would marry some noble from Goldwater, Alfheim, even Ironrise. Have you ever even met her?”
“Only glimpsed her now and then, when we were growing up. But her father sent her to Goldwater before I left for war. I hear that she lives here now.”
“She does. She’s tall and fair. You’ll be... happy, a big important man like your father.”
“Please, you must tell no one.”<
br />
She nodded. “I’m used to keeping secrets.”
I smiled, a bit crooked and began walking away, but paused and turned. “I’m glad to see you again, Kyra. That is the real truth.”
I rushed into my chambers like a mad man.
“Rothan, there you are,” Bellabel said as she paused brushing her hair and I walked to her. “Are you hungry? Eliette and I prepared a meal for you but you were gone in the morning. She’s teaching me how to prepare—”
Words did not come to me, but I only grabbed her by her tiny waist and began frantically kissing her. Her lips were slick with moisture. Her neck tasted of lilac perfume. My hands ran through her bouncy waves of hair.
“Oh!” She giggled as I hoisted her up into the air and carried her to my bed. “It is not Rothan who returns—it is my brute! It is my master!”
I threw her into bed. She landed with a soft bounce, and her eyes softened as she reclined back and began to rub her dexterous hands all along her belly. I worked the sensual fabrics from her body, for my brutish hands were eager to conquer her curves, curves shaped like the desert dunes she hailed from, each of them a hot smoothness of flesh. Silk ran over her slim thighs, lace fell away from her firm breasts. My tongue tasted her nipples. “Mmm…mmm... you are hungry, my master,” she sighed. “I’m a much better meal for you than one in the kitchen, aren’t I?”
I pried her dancer legs open, hoisted one over my shoulder and slid my cock into her without the usual delicate touch. It had been hard all the way here.
“Ah!” she gasped in surprised pleasure. “Rothan!” She made the effort to speak between gasps as I pushed one of her ankles back toward her face with my shoulder, holding her other one in my hand, watching the quiver of her breasts as I made the love god clap upon her hips. “What has… made you….mmmmh... so mad with desire?”
No answer came from me. I had had enough talk to last me the whole day. I only looked down at her copper hips, wide open for me, her slick pink folds enveloping my pulsing mast of a cock as I drove it in and out of her. Her firm breasts shook as I began grinding into her faster and faster. She turned her face aside, her eyes shut as she moaned. As my body arched over hers, I leaned into the fevering sweetness of taking her, of plunging inside her. I went faster and harder, and she only stared at me, her eyes nearly closed, her thick lashes fluttering with her staggered breathing. Her small pointed chin, her large eyes getting lost in pleasure made me mad with desire. She clenched fistfuls of bedsheet with both hands, her hair cascading over half her face as she turned it in a building climax.
Wolf Blade: A Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Harem Page 11
