Wolf Blade: A Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Harem

by Marco Frazetta

  I was impressed, but annoyed all the same. “I did not say that you are here only trying on dresses, but that is how the commoners see you.”

  “Let them. I have more important things to worry about.”

  “Siv, ruling is all about what people think of you. Especially now, with your father ill and his brother on his way to claim what’s his by rights.”

  “And you, are you here to claim what’s yours by rights? Now that you’ve slain the Orc and fulfilled your oath?”

  “...Yes. I am.” She was silent at my forthrightness. “But I say so only as the Hammer’s son, who gods willing will someday be Hammer of Wolf Rein himself. Siv, aside from me, there is your uncle. He has long lived in the traitor Jarldom of Skorrad, hundreds of miles from here. He knows little of Wolf Rein and is practically an Imperial. They say he is a hard, cruel man, fit more to be a jailer than a Jarl. If we married, the people would much rather see us than some haggard noble from far off rule them. Think of it, they see me as a hero now, who can break whole Orc hordes by the strength of arms. They see Fenris with them, through me. You would be a capable ruler. I would not interfere with your reforms, your projects, but would give the people what they want to see in a ruler.”

  “A cock?”

  “Strength on the battlefield. That is the Northern way. Siv, we could rule here, side by side. Say what you will about me, you know I would respect you as well as any man.”

  “And Rothan, this man that would respect me, what does he think? What does he have to say?”

  “What?”

  “You said you spoke as the Hammer’s Son, now speak to me as Rothan, the man, who only a few moons ago was a prisoner in Kenessos, the Gambling City. For once tell me truly, and do not hide behind words of duty and honor. Rothan the man. Does he want this too?” She ran her hand along a gold necklace which fell into her gentle cleavage. “A little pleasure to go along with a sense of duty?” There was a teasing smile on her face, but genuine curiosity sparkled in her eyes. She stepped closer to me, so that the perfumes upon her caressed my nose. Lilac, jasmine, sweet resins, all mixed together in her scent. She stood a head taller than Bellabel, her long dress draping behind her, covering most of her body, but revealing the inner curves of her long legs, hugging her long svelte waist. Her chestnut hair was thick, brushed to perfect waves and kept as brilliant as pearls.

  “Growing up I had hardly looked upon you at all.” I breathed in her scent, studied the statuesque curves of her body. “You were always away in Goldwater, learning how to be a noble woman. When you were here, Jarl Bardawulf kept you almost hidden.”

  “He was protective even then.” The powders upon her face, and lip paint, only accentuated her feminine features.

  “Aye. So I had hardly looked upon you, even less so as a man has looked upon a woman. But now having neared you, I see that you are strong-willed, intelligent, refined, well mannered… though you manage to insult me and still do so in a mannered way.” Her lips curved into a smile on her elegant jawline. “You are graceful… and by the gods… you are beautiful.” It was true. Desire stirred me. I took her hand in mine, felt how supple her fingers were, how soft her skin. “Siv, let us join together.” Her eyes were completely fixed on mine now, and it felt as if we were completely absorbed in one another. I wrapped an arm around her thin waist, and brought her closer still, so that I felt the warmth of her body through the cloth of our raiment. “Listen to them out there.” We were silent, and she turned her head, just enough toward the window so she could take in the sounds. They were chants and cheers, the packed crowd still boisterous in the castle courtyard. “They call for me, they call for me to rule. Rule Wolf Rein with me Siv.” I raised her chin with a finger, that our mouths neared one another. “Rule with me, Siv.”

  She looked at me for a long moment, a trembling conflict on her face. She closed her eyes. “No.”

  “What? Siv…”

  “No…. no!” Her eyes narrowed. She stepped out of my embrace. “You come offering me my own birthright.”

  “You know there must be a male heir.”

  “What does my own father do that I cannot? He is dying in bed, and yet he still rules.”

  “This is the way…”

  “I will not marry a man who comes to me for power, who seduces me with saccharin words. I will not be another one of the women you keep dangling on your belt. The foreign concubine, the drunkard’s daughter, why not the Jarl’s daughter too?”

  My beast stirred in me as I felt she insulted my two mates. I felt my chest tighten. “Watch how you speak of them.”

  “Or what?” I wisely did not answer. “Oh right, you fear to offend my father, an old man choking in bed, but you speak to me any which way you like.”

  “I have let you insult me plenty. But don’t insult them.”

  “Very well, I’ll insult you then. Be gone from my chamber you lecherous usurper, you ignorant brute, you glorified butcher—be gone now!” She pointed. “There’s the door, Dog Blade!”

  I made my way through the stone halls of the keep, the beast thrumming in me. It felt like a thousand rabid badgers trapped in a small cage.

  “What happened Rothan, what did she say? Will you be married soon?” Quistainn asked as he made to walk with me.

  “Let us not speak of it,” I snarled. “There are much more pressing things. My father is still locked in the tower.”

  As we reached the cell, two guards immediately became alert. One seemed almost glad to see me, as if I were a relative. The other could not hide the loathing on his face, though I also caught the smell of fear coming from him. My father was behind the iron bars, a bit wan but seemingly well. He seemed stoic to see me, but I did not blame him. Living in a cell drains a man, as I knew all too well.

  “Halt!” the fearful guard said. “We are on orders from the Jarl—”

  “The Jarl is on his deathbed. For now, I am the Hammer of Wolf Rein and you will do as I say.”

  “Of course, Hammer,” the friendlier guard said, but the fearful one interrupted him.

  “We have orders. And just because you say—”

  “I’ve crushed an Orc warlord’s off with my bare teeth,” I said as I stepped to him, eyes locked on his. “Imagine what I’ll do to your scrawny ass.”

  He blinked harder than a bee flutters its wings, and I snatched the keys from him and tossed them to the other guard. “Open it.”

  “Yes, Lord Hammer.”

  The iron gate screeched open. My father stood.

  “You’ve come. The Orc is dead?”

  “Aye, I tore his head off myself. I sent it to King Albrecht as a gift and offering to his glory. Took this is a trophy, as proof of my deeds. ” I gripped the Orc’s black sword. “I hand it to you now, father. You who have served Wolf Rein and Skald far more than these jarls and kings who stay locked in their towers, feasting and whoring.” My father, his hands rippled with snake-like veins, his skin beginning to wrinkle like worn leather, took the sword in his hands. He looked at it with awe as he removed its leather covering.

  “It looks ancient, unlike anything I’ve ever seen… I am proud of you.”

  We clasped each other’s forearms, and embraced. He did something I had not seen in years. He smiled. The lines around his eyes, the red apple cheeks above his massive beard were as rare as a falling star to me, and more precious. “And the woman? Bardawulf’s daughter. Your future wife now!”

  Mention of her made my beast stir again. It rankled at being caged inside my body. I glanced down, then met his eyes again. “No. She could not hear sense. She refuses the marriage. The people will be angry.”

  His brow furrowed. “You have completed your oath, Rothan. And as I am condemned by Jarl Bardawulf, that makes you the Hammer of Wolf Rein. You have final command over the military while the Jarl is unable to command. So command. Take the seat of the Jarl. The people want you to rule.” He gazed about, taking in the sounds of the crowd, still shouting out, audible even here in the tower
. “And so you will.”

  “But Siv… Jarl Bardawulf...”

  “What of them?”

  “They are the rightful family to rule.”

  “Rightful.” He nodded. “And what determined that? You know what determined that?” I stared back at him in silence, and he raised Ghazrak’s black blade. “Swords. Swords determined that. And you have them.”

  I stared at him, and the beast in me roused with the promise of power, the promise of feasting and mating, the promise of absolute domination. I was beginning to understand: it thirsted, it hungered, just as a beast thirsts and hungers.

  “Guards!” My father said, emerging from his cell. “Who are you loyal to, a dying, cruel Jarl with no male heir, or to my son, a Hammer who was defeated Orc hordes, outnumbered ten to one?”

  “I am loyal to Rothan! To the Wolf Blade!” the guard who had opened the cell immediately said, taking a knee.

  The other looked nervously between his fellow guard, my father and me, then took a knee himself. “I am loyal to you as well!”

  “You see,” my father said, nearing me, “most of the men are already loyal to you; once the rest see this, they will follow in turn. Even in this cell, I knew that if I called on them, at least half the armed men in Wolf Rein would have come to my aid. Imagine now, with the common folk behind you, and your victories in the field, the renown you’ve won, not just here but all over Skald.”

  My beast trembled with desire. For glory, for power. The thought of men kneeling, pledging their swords to me, the thought of conquering, of having throngs of women eager for me, a mere glance melting them with desire.

  “I—I should think on this,” I stuttered, trying to hold back my beast.

  “Think? Act, Rothan!” My father gripped me by the back of the neck. “Act now, the people are here now! Why wait, for who knows what tomorrow may bring. Delay and there may be complications, there may be more chaos, a bigger price to have what you want. You can do this now and avoid a civil war.”

  I looked away, a rush of thoughts in my mind, the beast thrumming away like a caged animal. I glanced at Quistainn, then back to my father.

  My eyes narrowed with hunger.

  21

  “People of Wolf Rein!” I called out to the throng in the castle courtyard. I stood at the top of the stairs, my father and Quistainn behind me, along with a handful of soldiers who had quickly pledged loyalty to the Wolf Blade above all else. I saw some of the warriors from our battles as well among the crowd, their expressions that of loyal soldiers at the ready for my orders. The beast in me stirred, recognizing that a pack was forming under it, a pack that would soon number in the hundreds, the thousands. “People of Wolf Rein! I come before you as there is none that truly rule in Wolf Rein. Jarl Bardawulf lingers between life and death. His brother Dren Klauser is on his way to make a claim for the seat. He has not stepped foot in Wolf Rein in half a life. He is more a southerner, with his embroidered silk robes. Do you want him ruling you?”

  The crowd responded with boos, with shouts of exasperation and defiance.

  “While the Jarl is unable to rule,” I went on, my voice resounding all around the stone spires, “it has always fallen on the Hammer to rule until he returns once more. And where Jarl Bardawulf is going, there is no return!” The crowd went wild with exultation, and for a moment I was taken aback by how quickly they were willing to discard him. “Gods have mercy on him. He shall soon rest. But the world, the world does not rest. Crops grow and need sowing, livestock need feed and tending, swords need forging, enemies need slaying—the world carries on and stops for none! So now, it is a time for change. Wolf Rein has always honored blood of the Jarl, the first born son of the Jarl. But times change, the ages turn, kings rise and they fall. Life changes, even among us who hold tradition as a way of life. Wolf Rein, it is time for a new Jarl! And a new way of choosing him!”

  The crowd roared. Shouts of, “Fenris has chosen you!” and “Rothan, the Wolf Blade! Jarl Rothan!” came ringing from every direction.” The crowd exulted. “Jarl Rothan! Jarl Rothan!”

  “Your new Jarl,” I shouted, extending my hand, reaching out to the crowd, “Your new Jarl shall be Siv, daughter of Bardawulf!”

  Anger. Bewilderment. Shock. The crowd muttered, shouted in confusion. They looked about to make sense of things.

  “Rothan, what in the hells are you doing?” my father whispered to me.

  “What is right.”

  “We follow you, Rothan!” One of my soldiers in the crowd shouted, “Not some noble woman! What has she done but be born? Every man woman and child here has done that too!”

  The crowd hollered its agreement, and some laughter and snickering broke out too.

  “Listen to me, all of you!” I gazed around to as many as I could. “You would have me as Jarl, but what do I know of it? I am a warrior, all I know is steel and blood. What do I know of levies and trade, of laws and alliances—I barely know how to read!”

  Some in the crowd laughed at that, some still shook their heads in defiance. “Soldiers, you have fought alongside me, pledged your loyalty to me. Now I ask for that loyalty. I shall defend Wolf Rein, always, as I defend Siv as Jarl. For this day, I am Hammer, and this is my command!”

  The crowd’s noise dwindled to near silence. I made my way down the stairs and they parted to let me through, they parted to let me go home.

  I emerged from the castle gate with Quistainn, my father, Bellabel and a multitude of soldiers and commoners still flocking after me, still calling for me to be Jarl.

  “Be gone.” I waved them away. “I have said all I have to say.”

  “You heard him,” I heard a soldier say, “off with ya!”

  My father walked beside me, took me by the shoulder. “What have you done? That was your moment. You could have taken the Jarl’s seat, and no one would have questioned it. Now, there might be chaos when Dren Klauser arrives and Siv refuses to give up the seat.”

  “As I said, I will defend Siv’s right to rule with my steel and with my blood. Should she prove a poor Jarl, I will be the first to ask her to step down, and seat another. Think on it, father, it makes little difference who rules. We will still hold loyalty from Wolf Rein’s warriors. You will still be Hammer. Siv has been studying to rule all her life. Once she sees that I have no ambitions to claim her or her seat, she will listen to our counsel in matters of war. She is reasonable beneath her mask of cold disdain.”

  “And what of King Albrecht, what will he have to say when he hears the lineage of Jarls has been broken?”

  “It hasn’t been broken. Siv is blood of the Jarl.”

  “But she is not a male heir.”

  “In time she will produce one. All shall be as it was. And I believe King Albrecht is far less concerned with custom than you would paint him. As long as Wolf Rein supplies swords and gold to the throne, it will matter little to him what’s between the Jarl’s legs.”

  “You asked for her hand, didn’t you? Not as a matter of rule, but of affection. You were coming to… love her.” My father’s eyes verged between pity and disgust.

  “What man wouldn’t want to have her? Even should she be a fisherman’s daughter, having seen her no man would not desire her. You would have to be a saint like Quistainn over there.” My father glanced at Quistainn, oblivious to our talk but standing guard over me rivaling a statue.

  “And you would take the insult of her throwing out your offer? You did not bristle at being denied like a common fool rather than the Fenrir that you are—the damn savior of this city!”

  “Aye, I did. It’s why I understood her. If I bristled at that, why should she not bristle at being forced to marry? She merely felt that her rights were being denied. That she should be able to rule based on her abilities.” I leapt straddled my horse. “Now, I won’t speak of it any longer. You see father, I tire of even talking of such matters, imagine what a terrible Jarl I would have made had I to always deal with such things.”

  He did not l
augh, but only stared back at me, his face even more grim than usual, both from his weeks of imprisonment and from the turmoil his foolish son was putting him through.

  I rode up beside Bellabel. “I will see you at my home. I should not be long.”

  “Of course, Rothan. But where are you going?”

  “I need some fresh pine air. I tire of the city already and I’ve barely been in it. Quistainn, will you escort Bellabel to my home?”

  “At once, Rothan.”

  Joker’s hooves trotted, and he seemed as eager to leave the noise, the human smells and commotion as I was.

  The smell of rich soil wafted up to me, as did the sounds of grasses bending under my horse’s gallop. We slowed together and I dismounted.

  My inner beast not only made me greater at slaying all manner of man and beast, it made the land more alive. Birds and flowers nearly glowed with how bright their colors were to my eyes. I could see bees and other insects darting through the sky that would have been mere specks to other wandering men. The rustle of thousands of leaves all around me was near music.

  I came to a stream, knelt and drank. The memory came to me. Seeing that golden face suddenly appear above the stream near the Osko river, hearing its strange message. Had it meant that I should not betray Siv, as perhaps in her eyes, I nearly did? But I would hardly call her my greatest friend. Perhaps in time she would be. Had it been a god that had spoken to me? It would seem so, as they were known not to speak plainly as ordinary men did. Perhaps that is why kings and nobles often spoke in riddles too, concealing their insults, threats and offers in masks of pleasantries and jests. Perhaps they imitated the gods in that feeble way.