Freedom Pt. 01: Wanderer

Author's Note: "Freedom" takes place months after the events of "Elan", and is Part 4 of 4 of the Talos of Evora series. The storyline goes Luck -> Custom -> Elan -> Freedom. I've tried to reintroduce returning characters, but read the other parts if you're interested in learning more.

For a story called "Freedom", this story contains a lot of non-consent. I will also promise it's not the "oh, but it turns out she likes it" sort of non-con you might have read elsewhere. This is a far darker story than my other works.

To tame expectations, Alanna (who appears to be the favorite character judging from my inbox) doesn't appear until the Epilogue. Sorry!

Wanderer

~~~~

The fear was palpable on the air. Three thousand armored men stood in formation just beyond the gates of a small port town, rolling hills of grass before them. Their armor was tattered, bloodied by battle, and completely haphazard; an odd collection of mail, plate, or leather, their weapons similarly random. The only pattern identifiable on the forms of these veterans were one of a red crescent, symbol of the Blood Moons mercenary company.

Talos, a young noble of nineteen, sat atop his black horse at the front and center of the band, flanked by the few noble-born riders of his who yet lived. He stared into the distance with anticipation, his face unreadable to all but one other.

Three times their number awaited them on the nearest hilltop. The polished, clean armors of the Santarian knights were all too evident at its peak, glimmering in the morning sunlight as if in testament of their natural superiority. A hundred flags flapped eagerly above the knights, displaying the many colors of Santarian nobility. Duke Enrico had called all his banners to account for the treachery of Talos and his Blood Moons, and all had accepted their obligations. Yet they stood, waiting, and had not descended the hill.

Surrounding hills were occupied as well, the forms of many men and women unarmored visible upon them. Tales of the Blood Moon mercenaries had spread quickly throughout Santaria, and hundreds had appeared this day to see the result of combat between the mercenary-turned-revolutionary Talos and the Duke of Santaria.

A tap on Talos' shoulder. He shifted his gaze, finding a Sigismund with only thirty-some years tilting his head behind him. Talos guided his stallion about, finding a dark-skinned man in rags wanting to speak to him. Talos dismounted and made his way towards the beggar with three-thousand and two eyes on him.

"It's done, Talos. The final ship will depart as soon as I return," the beggar said, extending his hand for the young mercenary captain.

Talos, and by extension his mercenary company, had been paid a pretty sum to bring this particular beggar to justice. He was a slave, or at least had been not six months ago; his defiance to his situation had given others the same spark, until he had found himself in command of a throng of fifty-thousand slaves in revolt soon later. The Blood Moons had been hired to put down the revolt, and had been making good progress up until two weeks ago.

Rather than gut the slave here and now, Talos shook his hand. "Good. Hope, uh, everything goes well out there, Bertrum."

Bertrum smiled, crossing his arms when his hand returned to him. "You still haven't told me why you're doing all of this," he said warmly.

Talos shrugged, his gaze falling away from the ex-slave's sight. "I'm tired of the bloodshed. Let's just... leave it at that," Talos replied reticently. The man in rags only chuckled.

"And what will you do now?" Bertrum asked. "No lord will dare hire the Blood Moons again. You've ruined your livelihoods just to save ours."

Talos didn't have to ponder a response, having come up with one days ago. He had been on edge the entire time, and had to convince three-thousand men with steel that his call had been the right one.

"I'm going to walk out of Santaria with my friends," Talos replied. "Those cowards on the hill will never attack the Moons, especially when you all have already fled."

He sighed, finding his eyes wandering over the transports loaded with precious cargo at the port. Only thirty-five thousand slaves remained from the original fifty-thousand, and the guilt tore at Talos each waking moment of his life.

"Then... I guess I'll just keep walking," the mercenary said reticently. "Get away from it all, for a time."

"You'll always be welcome in Hesperia with us, Talos. Your name is already uttered with reverence on my people's lips. And I hope, one day, we can repay the kindness that you have showed us. We're all... very grateful, Talos. Truly."

Talos turned around, refusing to meet the man's sight anymore. Yet, three-thousand regulars had their eyes trained on their captain anyway. There they saw Talos' grief, and perhaps they may have shared it.

The Blood Moons had assaulted Bertrum's host of ragged slaves four times already, many souls perishing for an undeniable cause; a simple hope of securing their own freedom, and to not wake up another day in fettered service to another. Talos had personally slain many, their helpless wails on the wind haunting his dreams in the weeks thereafter. He would have to atone for several lifetimes to make up for it.

Yet, for all Talos' horrid deeds, all Bertrum displayed in return was love, gratitude, and forgiveness. Talos would never deserve it from anyone, and especially not from him. He couldn't look Bertrum in the eye as he replied with heavy heart.

"Thanks, Bertrum. It's best you get going."

~~

Talos awoke suddenly under a pile of white bear furs within a familiar tent, saved from his memories of fourteen long years ago. A lithe, beautiful elf lay curled beside him in his arm, her soft breath whispering nothings as she slept contentedly.

The pair had returned to the white snows of Isbrygga, this time on the western coast of the region rather than in the far north. Winter had set in, and the entire area was covered in a thick layer of snow. Yet, within their tent and under a massive pile of furs, Talos and Casiama remained in lighter garb. The elf beside him only wore her white sheer nightgown, quite possibly her favorite piece of clothing. Had she not been hidden under blankets, her willowy, toned form would be readily visible underneath her dress. Her hand was contentedly draped atop Talos' chest, her thin fingers several shades darker than the skin they laid upon.

Talos smiled at the sight of her perfection, reminded that he was not lost any longer, as he was in his dream. those years of wandering alone were far behind him, now, and had instead been merely transformed into countless stories he could share over a meal between friends. Talos wondered why he ever let those days last so long.

Problem was, when you're out on the road alone, facing dangers day in and day out while purely reliant on your own skill... you forget about that need for long-term companionship. Wanderlust surges through you, like a tidal wave of distraction and interference. Your adrenaline builds and builds until nothing matters but the next spike, the next dose of wonder. Sure, there's always a calm between storms; calms which only made a wanderer restless. Made Talos eager to find his next adventure.

Yet, Talos had been grateful to find true strength in the past year. After being lost for so long, all it took was the companionship of one immature sorceress to make him realize how wrong he had been. How wretched his life had become. And, so far, things had been improving.

For one, he'd found the love of his life in an enchanting form that he'd least expected. The elf that was currently squished against him in a loving slumber was none other than a princess of Tor Valliya, an elven kingdom to the east. She had been banished from her home by her father, the king of Tor Valliya, just as Talos had by his own - albeit human - father a decade and a half ago. The elven beauty had only twenty-nine years of age, an incredibly young age for an elf. She would appear no older than nineteen to a human's eyes. Talos himself held thirty-three years, years which contained enough stories to last a hundred lifetimes.

Secondly, Talos had a son on the way. Supposedly, anyway. Princess Casiama could never bear a son for the man, as it was forbidden by nature for man and elf to produce together. Instead, that duty had fallen to a young enchantress far away in the port city of Catriona, a city which lay six-hundred miles to the south and in the opposite direction of the pair's current journey. The auburn-haired and voluptuous sorceress Alanna now had eight months of pregnancy with his child, a child she said she would name after him.

It's not that Talos was running from his imminent obligations by traveling in the exact opposite direction, per say; the elf laying beside him would not allow any such thing. Alanna and Casiama had reconciled last month in the Imperial capital of humanity, and had apparently promised to share Talos between the two of them. Obviously, this originally made a man delighted when he heard. To have two of the world's most eminent beauties all to yourself? What's not to like?

Yet, the more he thought of it... the more he realized how unlikely it was to work. It would be impossible for Casiama to live with him in Catriona for the long term; elves were barred by Imperial law to enter the Empire at all, and the city of mages followed those laws to the letter. He'd eventually be forced to flee again, or lose her for good.

Not to mention the fact that the two powerful sorceresses would likely tear each other to shreds once they learned the reality of sharing a man. Both Alanna and Casiama had cool exteriors to those that did not know them, and were capable of taking slights or inconveniences with nary a word of disagreement. Yet...

Yet, Talos knew them better than that. They weren't exactly unstable, per say; excitable would be the better term. He feared that they would go off on each other within a week of meeting once more. Or, perhaps they'd merely bind together to lash out at him instead. It's not that he didn't deserve it.

And what of the child? Talos had just been reunited with his - albeit unrelated by blood - daughter not two months ago, only to find the young woman had grown up to become a genuine psychopath. This on its own gave the man quite a lot to be concerned of, yet the worst part of all was the fact that he seemingly hadn't learned one truth from the entire endeavor. One reason for her downfall.

Talos sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead. Before meeting Alanna last year, he would have never worried of events which hadn't yet transpired. True love was an enabler for all things foolish, he now knew; and how foolish he had been as of late. Talos knew he would eventually grow weak living like this.

Okay, perhaps he was running from his obligations. Just a bit. He at least told himself he had a good reason.

"Mmm," Casiama mumbled with a smile beside him. Talos chided himself silently for accidentally shifting her when he brought his hand to his forehead. He kissed her softly on the lips, a simple show of love and apology as the elf stirred to the chill day. Her breaths became irregular, but she did not open her eyes quite yet.

"Is it morning already?" she whimpered with brow furrowed, her adorable pointed ears swiveling just a pinch in her early fog. Talos peered from the furs and through the tent opening, spying a soft splash of orange just barely peeking over the horizon.

"Not quite, Cass. You can go back to sleep. I'll lie here," he assured warmly.

The elf yawned then squished closer against him, pressing her reasonable-yet-perfect breasts against his side. She pushed her soft, thin lips to his cheek, then allowed her beautiful green eyes to flutter open to meet his.

"Sounds awfully boring for you," she said dreamily.

Truth be told, Talos could watch her sleep all day. Doing so would not bother him in the slightest, and he'd still feel fulfilled at the end of it all. Yet...

"You're right. Rise and shine, Cass," Talos proposed impatiently with a grin, kissing her pouting lips once again. Casiama did, to her credit, make a half-effort to do so before shifting atop him and wrapping her lithe arms around his neck. Her hips rocked against him, searching for a morning pleasure from the man on instinct.

"Hmm..." she moaned with tired eyes, biting her lower lip as she slid slowly down his ready manhood. Talos gripped her thighs ever so gently, admiring Casiama's slender form before she shivered once from the chill morning air.

"Ooh! I'll be so happy when we're away from here," Casiama declared, squinting her eyes in displeasure. Talos bucked against her once she had fallen to the hilt of his sword, bringing his hands to her hardened nipples.

Talos pinched them playfully. "Two more days, I think. At least, that's what Vex said last night," he said with a grin. Casiama squirmed to his touch, but continued to slowly rock above him with pleasure.

"She said that two days... mmm... two days ago, Talos," Casiama replied between whimpers.

Talos thrust against her impatiently, finding her cervix on accident. Casiama yelped, then brought her face to his with a simulated glare.

"She could be right this time," Talos reassured before pecking her lips with a grin. The elf retaliated, kissing his nose as she rode his cock at her own sensual pace.

"You're not very encouraging, honey," she said with a smile.

-

Talos and Casiama left their tent an hour later, immediately greeted by the harsh air of western Isbrygga. Spring had already begun to their south in the Empire, unfortunately having not yet told the lands to the north of the changing season.

The pair both wore white bear furs over their thick armor and cloaks, Casiama even having a cloth wrapped around her lips and nose in hopes of keeping warm.

"Morning, Sigi. What's the word?" Talos asked the imposing, scarred veteran by the shared campfire. Three other tents ringed the campfire, significantly smaller than Casiama's furred fortress. Sigismund was eating his morning oats with not one sign of discomfort in response to the weather. The fifty-year-old man had seen worse winters in his years, and treated the cold as if it were penance for past sins.

"They trudged off not half an hour ago to search another cavern. I, naturally, offered to return to camp and wait for the lovebirds to rise so they wouldn't feel left out," Sigismund replied.

"Aw, Sigi!" Casiama exclaimed, her glee muffled through her facemask. The elf extended a gloved hand, summoning a shortsword from thin air in a flash of white light. She equipped it on her belt before summoning Talos' gear similarly; his crossbow, boot knives, and backpack appearing on the snow beside him in an instant and a flash of light.

Casiama - with the use of her conjuration magic - now held all of the party's gear in an etheral plane, far off-world. Her magic made travel simple, allowing six adventurers to journey hundreds of miles carrying nothing besides the urge to explore. Talos had found Casiama's conuration magic positively awe-inspiring when he first encountered it last year, and had quickly been trained to see it as a necessity to accompany his own wanderlust.

"This better be the last cave," Casiama said with a hint of aggravation, her eyes darting between Talos and Sigismund. Sigismund shrugged his shoulders.

"What's wrong, princess? The cold too much for you?" he asked with an uncomfortable half-smile. Regardless of how warmly the fifty-year-old man spoke, his scarred face was always a difficult sight to behold for conversational partners.

Casiama's hand flew to her hip, as if in defiance of his statement. "Of course it isn't! I appreciate all of nature's gifts," she replied with a snow-white lie. "It's only that I promised I'd get him," she pointed at Talos, bent over retrieving his gear, "to Catriona in but a couple weeks, yet I find the sun continues to set over my left shoulder."

Sigismund sighed, shaking his head at Talos. "Do I really have to explain this to her, Talos?"

"Explain what?" Talos shot back, not bothering to look in his friend's direction.

"Explain what?" Casiama repeated with a squint towards Sigismund. He sighed once again, exasperatedly.

"Catriona is... two months away from here, Cass. At least," the veteran explained softly.

"What?!" Casiama exclaimed, spinning on her heel towards Talos. He glanced over his shoulder to see her reaction, and shrugged.

"What?" Talos replied innocently. Casiama strode towards him with a finger raised, her lithe legs covering the distance in three graceful steps.

"You told me we could be there in a fortnight," she scowled. Talos slung his backpack over his shoulder, rising to his feet and to meet Casiama's glare at eye-level.

"When did I say that?" he shrugged with a smirk.

"We're leaving today, Talos. What is wrong with you?" Casiama asked, shaking her head. Talos extended his arms and stepped towards her in embrace, one which was immediately rejected with a huff and the crossing of arms.

"C'mon Cass. At least wait until we find the second farcaster. Could you imagine how awesome it would be, to converse with another person hundreds of miles away?"

"Why would you care of something so... ridiculous, when Alanna expects you now? We're leaving, Talos. Today," Casiama told him sternly. Talos frowned, letting his arms drop to his sides.

"Let's... at least check out the cave?" he offered instead. Casiama nodded meekly after a moment, sensing his change of demeanor and immediately wanted to apologize to him.

"Okay," she agreed after exhaling. "Let's go then."

-

"Veeehx, are ya sure the farcaster isn't tellin' ya we need to go somewhere warmer?"

Markus held his arms at his chest, an intense shiver coarsing through his bones as he stood behind the puzzled-looking sorceresses within the confines of the cavern. A faint humming could be heard emanating from an amber-colored stone held in Vex's hand, a trinket they'd picked up from a now-deceased enchantress several months ago.

The two sorceresses with him wore thin, fire-red cloaks, which emanated a magical heat on their own. Silvia had purchased them from a destitute sorceress in Seagard for a steal. Markus was not as fortunate, finding his steel armor provided the opposite effect as the cloaks in the chill cavern.

The party had since found a diviner on their quest, a sorceress capable of seeing far-off times and places through vague visions and spells. The diviner had placed a spell on the farcaster, allowing the stone to seek its own mate with a dim hum. The party had been following this hum for two months now, providing a much-needed distraction for most; and a perfectly logical explanation for Talos to stay away from Catriona for the time being.

"Shut up, Markus," Vex finally said.

"Yeah, shh!" Silvia piped up, placing a finger over her own lips.

The humming farcaster began to increase in frequency as the sorceresses delved further into the cavern they now occupied. Natural light was available in droves, seeping through rocks that weren't quite laid properly against each other. The cave was naturally formed, yet magnificently decorated with intricate pillars of ice.

"It's here. Somewhere," Vex reassured nasally. The cavern soon opened up into a large room, a natural bridge jutting over a meandering, icy-blue river far below them. Vex hoped the stone wasn't down in the depths. Just as she began to step over the icy bridge, Markus kicked a stone down into the abyss.