by LJ Maas
“Now, this one here,” he laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “She’s the age you’re looking for and she’s all virgin.”
“And she’s going to stay that way for quite a while yet.” I growled.
When I pulled my blade from it’s scabbard, it made a metallic hissing noise, and I saw the six guards hesitate. They too seemed to be weighing their options of surrender or battle. Too slowly did they choose, as I plunged my sword into the closest man’s belly, kicking out and crushing another’s kneecap. I saw two more guards rush into the old wooden building, but my own palace guards had no clue yet that I was in danger, even with the wailing being done by the group of girls. I dispatched another, and then one more soldier, but I wanted Callius. He couldn’t run; he knew he had to kill me now.
Three more soldiers fell under my blade as I saw some of my own guards rush into the building and into the fray. Finally, it was Callius and I, circling one another. I spit out the blood that collected in my mouth from a backhanded blow that he slipped in and I cursed myself for leaving him an easy head shot like that. We parried back and forth and the long building was filled with the sound of metal against metal. I tried to slip my blade in, but he saw it coming and I received a painful gash across my left bicep for my carelessness.
“You’re getting old, Conqueror,” Callius spat.
I could see that he thought victory was within his grasp. I may have grown slower after a fortnight without visiting the practice field, but I was far from done with this man. I took a deep breath and loosened what little remaining hold I had on the beast, leaving it free to control me. When I saw myself, reflected in his eyes, my normally blue irises were as colorless as the ice that covered the northern mountains. What Callius saw, was the inevitability of his own death.
Three more parries and I left an opening as big as the Aegean for him to see. He fell into the trap and lunged at the opening that closed so quickly, he never saw the sword that slipped into his belly and drove into him up to the hilt. I grasped his shoulder, gave a half turn to the blade, and watched as blood gurgled noisily from between his lips. I whispered to him then and with his dying breath, he told me all I wanted to know. I held on to the man, not allowing him to fall until I watched the last of his life’s blood drain slowly away. I was conscious only of the dead weight that hung on the end of my blade, a warm, sticky wetness that covered my hands, and the pounding rush of adrenaline at my temple, but somewhere, I heard the crying of young girls and it seemed another voice that I recognized.
“Don’t touch her!” I thought I heard someone say, finally realizing it was Atrius, and that he stood there repeating my name.
“Lord Conqueror... Lord Conqueror... ”
It was a steady mantra and with what seemed like a great deal of effort I pulled my gaze from the dead man in my arms, and focused on the tall soldier at my side. I could see it in his face, even though we had known one another for twenty seasons, even Atrius feared the beast. Nevertheless, he was the bravest man I knew and a soldier, after all. He squared his shoulders, looked me full in the eye, calling my name until I could see relief slide across his features. In that weary, battle-hardened face, I thought I saw support and admiration, both emotions directed at me.
When at last I turned away from him, to see what I held in my grasp, I felt it. Like smoke crawling along the fringes of a wood fire, I felt the awful darkness dissipate somewhat and with a significant amount of effort; I was able to push the monster into a safe place again.
Atrius kicked Callius’ body off my blade and tossed a dry rag at me. The first thing I did was wipe my blade clean and replace it within its scabbard. My hands were covered in red and the white silk of my shirt drenched in the stuff. It usually didn’t take this long to put the beast back in its place, except for the times when I was involved in all out war. I could only assume that righteous indignation helped to increase the intensity of this dark episode. Atrius began examining my arm as I slowly became aware of everything happening around me.
“You do realize what an incredibly foolish thing that was to do,” he admonished.
“Guess you had to be here to realize that it seemed like the thing to do at the time.” I shot back.
We grinned at one another briefly; each realizing the other would never change. Some warrior ways were simply too ingrained over the passage of time, to alter.
It took a few more candlemarks to straighten everything else out, including returning the girls and helping the unfortunate young woman on the boat. With Delia’s help, the girls were taken into the palace, under her watchful and caring eyes. I told Atrius about Demetri’s part in the mess, but I also ordered him to hold back. I wanted to give my head man just a little more rope to hang himself with. If I could have known, at the time, what that decision almost cost me, I would have decided against it.
* * *
“Ow!” I cried out, as Kuros pulled the thin length of twine through my skin.
I glared at the small man, yet he paid little attention to me. Funny thing about my healer, he’d always been quite unimpressed with who I was. Even when my temper was a thing I lost on a routine basis, he generally told me exactly what he thought of me. I leaned against the edge of the heavy wooden table as the man worked over the injury I received from Callius’ sword. The front of my leather trousers were caked in dried blood and I already tossed my white silk shirt to the floor. The shirt was soaked through with Callius’ blood and even now, the skin of my chest was stained a light red. I was naked from the waist up, but Kuros didn’t seem to mind and modesty had never been much of a priority with me.
“I said, Ow!” I complained again as the healer tugged again on the stitches he was creating along the long gash on my upper arm. I tried to pull away and see what he was doing, but I stopped at his exasperated sigh.
“It would help if the Lord Conqueror could manage to keep still for a few moments.” Kuros said evenly.
“Well, it hurts, I tell you.” I answered, realizing I was coming close to sounding like a petulant child. “You’re doing something differently because it never used to hurt like this.”
“Well, the Lord Conqueror is at a certain age... ” My healer trailed off.
“Certain age?” My voice was getting louder and I think it may even have raised an octave.
“Shit!” The pain drew my attention back down to the neat row of tiny stitches Kuros was sewing. One thing I had to admit... his handiwork was good. The stitches were more painful with this method, but being so tiny, it would heal with barely a thin line left as a scar. The only reason my naked body still looked half as good as it did, was because of the skill in this foreign man’s hands.
“Perhaps I could do what I do for the youngsters, Lord Conqueror. Generally, I tell them that if they behave until I am done, they will receive a piece of sweet candy.” Kuros commented without cracking a smile.
I glared down at the smaller man. “Gods know you must have to bribe them with something if this is the best you can do.”
It was then that I saw a trace of a smile cross his face.
The loud gasp caused both of us to look up and I saw Gabrielle’s faced, frozen in fear, as she stared down at the blood soaked shirt I removed when I came into my chambers. The young women then looked at my skin, tinged red from the blood and she rushed toward me.
“My Lord!” she cried out and I stood there, rooted in place at the emotion my young slave was displaying. Her green eyes filled with tears as she rushed over to me.
“The blood is not mine.” I stammered, feeling Gabrielle’s arms wrap around my waist. I looked helplessly into Kuros' amused face.
She pressed her cheek against my chest and I could feel the slight body trembling all over. I held her tightly with my one good arm and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m all right, Gabrielle. I cut my arm, that’s all, see?” I tried to pull my arm forward to show her, but the twine Kuros still held in his hand kept the limb prisoner. “Ow, shit!” I e
xclaimed.
“Just one more, Lord Conqueror.” The healer pleaded.
Although Gabrielle stopped shivering she didn’t say another word, nor did she loose her grasp from around my waist. I felt a warm wetness on my chest and realized they were Gabrielle’s tears. Crying... for me, little one? I asked myself. I held her tightly around the shoulders, pressing her against me gently.
“Sssh, it’s all right, little one.” I murmured, kissing the top of her head.
Gabrielle felt so good pressed up against me and I felt my body begin to respond. Her head was turned, her cheek flattened against my skin, and I could feel her breath as she exhaled. The small puffs of air were falling across my breast and I could feel the skin there tightening in response to that innocent stimulation.
I saw Kuros grin out of the corner of my eye and I glared again at the skilled healer. “Are you done yet?” I prodded.
He sliced through the twine easily with a very tiny, very sharp miniature dagger.
“Keep it dry, I would suggest you see me later and I will wrap a bandage around it to keep it clean, Lord Conqueror.”
“Gabrielle can do that... can’t you?” I murmured against the golden crown of hair. I felt her nod, but there was no verbal answer.
“As you wish, Lord Conqueror.” Kuros said with a slight bow. “My lady.” He motioned his head to Gabrielle and he was gone before I could even comment on that last statement. How odd that he would show Gabrielle, a slave, the respect of that title. I’m not even sure if the young woman heard him.
“Gabrielle, I need to take a bath and clean this filth off of me. Will you help me?” I asked the woman.
Before I could say another word, she ran off through the door that opened into my private bathing room. I shook my head and simply followed the girl, stripping off my boots on the way. The staff sent up hot water earlier and the steam rose and weaved its way throughout the room. Gabrielle poured room temperature water into the tub to cool it down. She attempted to help me with the laces that tied my trousers, but they were encrusted with dried blood.
“Gabrielle, go to my chest and bring me my dagger.” I requested.
She looked up at me in dismay at the request. No slave was ever allowed to touch a weapon, and surely not the Conqueror’s own slave. Yet, here I was, requesting that she do this very thing. I turned from her and picked up a comb, trying to remove some bits of dried blood from my hair. I knew Gabrielle still stood there, I could hear her steady breathing. I was hoping that through this act, Gabrielle would come to know the amount of trust I placed in her.
Eventually she left and when she returned, the weapon lay across both her open palms. She raised her hands to me as if she were turning over some sort of sacrificial tool. Indeed, it could be construed as such, the act of me asking, and her retrieving meant much more than either of us realized. I took hold of the offered knife and began slicing through the leather laces, practically peeling the trousers from my body.
“Lets just burn these, they’re beyond repair.” I said to Gabrielle as I stepped into the tub and let my body slide under the surface of the water. I kept my arms draped along the rim of the large wooden tub, careful not to get my newly repaired arm wet.
Gabrielle bent down to retrieve the discarded clothing, but I held out a hand to stop her.
“Sylla can get that, Gabrielle. Right now I need you here with me.” I said softly.
Need? Did I actually use that word? Gods, it’s true though, isn’t it? At this very moment, I wanted nothing more than to hold Gabrielle against me. To feel her. Not out of sex or lust, or I don’t know what, but to simply feel her and know that there was one soul in this world who seemed to worry for me.
“Gabri--elle?” I had to clear my throat to cover the break in my voice. “Would you join me?” I asked, extending my hand in invitation.
I wondered if she thought I sounded weak when I spoke like that. I know it made me feel weak, but then again, I never told anyone how I felt before, never let anyone see so close into who I was. I watched as Gabrielle began to disrobe and in this circumstance, I suddenly felt as though it would be rude to continue watching her. I lowered my head and pretended to rub soap into a wet sponge, but not before, I took in the look of surprise and the small hint of a smile on Gabrielle’s face.
I expected her to lean her back against me, but without any shame or preamble, Gabrielle kneeled in front of me in the steamy water and gently took the sponge from my grasp. Rubbing more soap into the sponge, she started at my neck and shoulders, setting about the task of bathing the dried blood from my body. She was careful as she scrubbed my injured arm, moving down and taking my much larger hands in her own, each one in turn, and working the soapy lather into the lines of my skin, and under the nails. When she continued on, below the surface of the water, I could have leaned back and simply accepted the pleasure, but that wasn’t what this was about this time. I halted her hand’s progress, trapping it under my palm, against the flat of my belly.
“You’d better let me do that,” I said with a smirk, “otherwise I won’t get my back scrubbed.”
Gabrielle smiled and I think she enjoyed the small feeling of power she was beginning to understand that she had over me, and I... well, I simply enjoyed seeing that smile.
“Turn.” She requested with a word and I did as she bid.
I handed her the sponge once again and turned around. After Gabrielle scrubbed my back, I felt her powerful, yet sensitive hands begin to attend to the muscles in my neck and back. My head fell forward and I was in a state of bliss, soft moans coming from the back of my throat at the pleasurable sensations.
“Let me wash your hair.” I heard her say softly near my ear. Who was I to put an end to all these extremely satisfying feelings? I let her command me as I let her command the situation earlier that day.
Gabrielle washed my hair, rinsed it with a small pitcher, and then she repeated the action, this time scrubbing the bits of dried dirt and blood from the dark strands. I leaned back, tilting my head, one more time as she rinsed the soap away.
“Mmmm,” I hummed, “I feel much better.”
Gabrielle looked rather pleased with herself, but when she turned away, thinking we were leaving the tub, I caught her arm and pulled her back.
“Now it’s your turn.” I stated.
Her eyes went a little wide when she realized I was serious. I knew I was breaking every convention ever laid down between master and slave today, but that word kept repeating itself over and over again in my head... need. I needed to be close to Gabrielle in this way. I couldn’t answer as to why, but something compelled me.
I treated Gabrielle’s body to the same luxuries she bestowed upon mine and when I at last rinsed the soap away from the long golden hair, she looked as relaxed as I. It was then that I leaned back in the still warm water and pulled Gabrielle backward, to lean her back upon my chest. A sound of absolute contentment rumbled through my chest. My arm remained wrapped around the young woman’s waist and Gabrielle’s hand rested on my forearm. I closed my eyes and smiled, feeling a relaxed pleasure wash over me as Gabrielle began to lightly brush her fingers along the muscles in my arm and wrist. When I peeked open one eye I could see that Gabrielle’s eyes were closed also, her head turned to the side, resting on my chest. Her fingers seemed to be stroking my skin absently, as if she were not aware of it. I didn’t want to be the one to give her a reason to stop.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” I asked, closing my eyes again.
“Yes, My Lord, very good.” Gabrielle sighed in reply.
My hidden smile grew larger at the sound of complete wonder in Gabrielle’s voice.
CHAPTER 10
DEVOURING TIME, BLUNT THOU THE LION’S PAWS
WE BOTH SAT on my bed, Gabrielle behind me, combing the snarls out of my hair. A strange thing for her to enjoy, but she apparently did. She took her time and I endured the tender attentions, careful not to let my natural impatience come through.
“Gabrielle?”
“Yes, My Lord?”
“These stories you want to write down on parchment, do you also tell them aloud? I mean... are you a bard, Gabrielle?” I asked the young woman. Her hands stopped moving and I felt as if I offended her or caused her to stop and think.
“I have never been trained in the ways of the bard, My Lord.” She answered, resuming her previous activity.
“But... do you tell stories?” I prodded.
“Yes, My Lord, I do.”
I smiled. “Good.” I answered, folding my legs up and leaning my elbows on my knees. “Tell, me a story, Gabrielle.” There was a moment’s silence. “Please?” I added softly.
I couldn’t see it, but if Gabrielle was acting true to form, she was now looking at me with a confused smile. When she began to speak, it was as if the voice belonged to someone else. There was a power and a charisma in that voice, and I’ve spent most of my life inciting soldiers on the battlefield with rousing speeches, so I know good oratory skills when I hear them. I closed my eyes and I could have been in a tavern, listening to a traveling bard, or even at a banquet listening to Sappho or Euripides.
There once lived a great and strong Lion who ruled a certain forest, protecting his forest from all that would do it harm. One day, the mighty beast was hunting for his dinner and a small brown rabbit jumped up and raced across the Lion’s path. Once the tiny creature saw the massive beast, he could go no further. His fear froze him in place. Even the small bunny had heard of the Great Lion. He was known as the king of the beasts and he ruled over everything in this forest.
The Lion wondered why the small creature did not continue running. It was the first time the Lion ever thought of himself as being frightening to others. You see; the Lion wore a fierce scowl on his face most of the time, due to the constant pain he was in. The pain was from a large thorn embedded very deeply into his hind paw. It rested there for many seasons, but no matter what he tried, the beast could not remove the thorn. Therefore, he settled for a life, filled with a constant reminder of a foolish act committed when he was a much younger Lion.
