Spoils of War Ch. 04

He addresses his mistress directly now, his gaze locked upon her.

"You think you were merciful?" he snarls, practically frothing at the mouth. "You beat me every night, regardless of my actions, and when I cry for help you have me sent to that thrice-damned House of Penance. You make me beg at your feet for every meal, as if I am a dog. I spend nights without sleep, bound and propped in a corner of the room, just to amuse you!"

Some of the Elvaran look to the woman in question, who averts her eyes sheepishly. Magnus speaks the truth of her, this is plain to see.

"None of those children had a hand in your torment! Leave them be!"

I am shocked to realize the words just spoken have come from my mouth. I step forward, Keira at my side, moving to the front of the crowd. Magnus turns his eyes to me, fixing me with that envenomed glare.

"Careful, bard!" he warns, moving his torches threateningly.

I halt my advance but stand my ground. I am small, weak, and battered, but I cannot show him fear. I've watched those children at play for days now, and already I have a potent desire to protect them, for they are only children, kind young folk.

"Your plight is fair," I tell him, "believe me when I say I understand your dismay. My mistress is kind, but a life of servitude is not. But we must talk these things out, not act with violence toward the innocent."

Keira nods in approval. Magnus does not look swayed.

"If I set these torches aside," he explains, "these she-devils will tear me limb from limb."

"No, we won't."

This time the speaker is Alania, chieftain of the Elvaran. She stands tall and regal as ever.

"You will be punished." she tells Magnus. "But it will not come yet. Set aside the torches and let us talk, we will hear your grievances. You should not have been treated so harshly. I am sorry for your suffering."

Magnus wavers at that show of kindness, his resolve breaking.

"Please," Keira speaks up, "listen to Sven and Alania. They are not deceiving you, Magnus."

Magnus looks like a confused animal trapped in the sight of its predator. I only want him to put his weapons down before an accidental spark sets the hall ablaze. He moves both torches and the Elvaran tense, ready to surge forward. The torches fly forth and land in the dirt of the square, sputtering out against the soil. Magnus slumps dejectedly to his knees.

"I have no more valor," he moans, "no more pride. I was ready to harm children, the most innocent of beings, only to protect myself. My honor is dead. Do what you must."

His mistress makes to come forth, her fists already clenched. But Alma shoves her roughly back into place. Alma, a warrior like Magnus once was, approaches the kneeling man and offers him a hand. Her posture is still tense, for surely she recalls the murder he committed, but she seems willing to wait to exact her retribution. Magnus places his hand in her's and she helps him to his feet. Her grip is strong but Alma is not hurting him. Not yet.

"Let the children go and grieve as they will." Alania orders. "We will talk, here and now."

Luke and Roland stay behind, letting the children stream from the hall. They move toward the lake side, off to grieve their fallen companion, and relieved to be free from mortal peril. The Elvaran gather around, many still gazing wrathfully at Magnus. But his mistress is catching many a sour glance as well.

"Our way of life," Alania says, "is to be dominant, to guide our males in their lives, so they might keep our home strong as we do battle across the land."

Magnus nods in resignation, but Alania has more to say.

"Violence," she adds, "torment, bloodshed, and death are tools we implement. But they should be implemented against our foes, not our males."

Magnus' face lifts in a slight smile. An idea, a vague notion compels me to speak up.

"Chieftain," I propose, "males serve here to strengthen the home, which is a fair trade, as the women brave great danger to expand the Elvaran realm. Yet, the males only serve in ways that you, the fighters and leaders, see fit."

There is a murmur of confusion amongst the Elvaran.

"My point," I press on, "is that Magnus is a warrior, yet he was being used simply to fetch water, and to fulfill the sadistic whims of his mistress. I am a bard, and I'm happy to perform other tasks as well, but why should I only sing on Freedom Night?"

Luke and Roland add quiet, polite approval.

"I am a cook," Luke tells the crowd, "I cook in my home, but I'd be happy to teach other men to cook, also."

"And I am... I can eh..." Roland struggles to think of something he can do. "I'm... well I'm happy as things are. Carry on."

Some of the Elvaran chuckle at that. A woman, his mistress, ruffles his hair playfully and Roland sits happily by her feet.

"Do you see?" I ask. "Fighting men could be village guards. The rest of us have our uses as well. We would be more content to serve if we were not relegated to areas in which we have no skill or passion."

The chieftain contemplates this notion.

"I see the merit in your words," she says at last, "give us time to consider it, and we will reconvene this night with a decision."

I beam with pride. Whatever will be done, at least we've tried to make a difference without shattering the Elvaran way of life.

"I'm sorry I never got to hear you sing, Sven." Magnus addresses me. "My mistress left me alone, bound like a dog on the night of the festivity."

His mistress lunges in to strike him and is pushed away by several Elvaran. I am perplexed, shocked. Magnus was not free the night of that awful murder?! The hushed whispers of the gathered folk echo my confusion.

"But then, Magnus," Alania asks, "did you not slay that child?"

Magnus looks horrified. Not surprised, but overcome with a sense of defeat.

"She'll tell you I did." he mutters. "She said she'd tell you all today that I'd done it. This is why I acted so suddenly, so violently. I knew all hope was lost. You all think me a murderer already."

Focus shifts toward the woman, Magnus' cruel mistress, who fidgets in dismay.

"Hilde," Alania asks, "did Magnus slaughter that child?"

Hilde nods vigorously.

"He broke free of his restraints," she says hastily, "he attacked her! Send him to the House of Penance, let me visit his doom upon him."

"Lies!" Magnus roars.

His voice is loud yet not as maddened as before. It is strong, full of conviction. He stands unwavering, glowering at Hilde.

"Tell them, Mistress," he demands, "tell them how you threaten to kill me every night, how you hold a knife at my throat and mock my meaningless life. Tell them how you conspire to send me to the House of Penance just to torture me and look noble amongst your folk for doing so! Tell them how you lured that poor girl into the darkness and slew her outside our home, how I pleaded with you through the open door! And how you hoped to blame me so you could justify torturing me to death."

Hilde runs. Her actions are sudden. She whips around and charges away from the crowd. Alma is on her like a shot, tackling the wicked woman to the earth and delivering a savage blow that renders Hilde stunned. Consciousness still holds her, but she is weak now.

"Does the male speak truth?" she snarls.

"Men are meant to suffer," Hilde weakly replies, "I was only doing to him what he deserved."

"Deserved for what?" Alma demands, striking Hilde a terrible blow.

"For living."

The crowd is in an uproar. Hilde is hastily restrained, though she growls and snaps like a wild dog. My mind reels. Magnus never murdered anyone?! He seemed so ready to snap, and snap he did by holding those children hostage. He will have to suffer for that, surely. But the pain he endured, the nightly torture. I pity him. Even a strong man can only take so much before reason gives way to desperation.

The women go to privately discuss the matters of the tribe and many of the men disperse and set about cleaning up the hall. Magnus, Luke, Roland, and I work to scrub away the lamp oil Magnus had laid out.

"I'm going to die aren't I?" Magnus asks.

No one replies for a while. I don't know, but I can't say I'd find it unlikely. He did take the children as hostages, he could have killed them all.

"I don't know, friend." Luke speaks up at last. "You acted foolishly."

Magnus nods, his expression dark.

"It was a great evil I worked," he agrees, "I deserve to suffer for that. But Hilde should suffer too, yes?"

"Yes," I say firmly, "and far worse than you. She committed murder, and tortured an innocent man."

There is a general agreement amongst us all. We spend the rest of the day working in silence until the hall is spotless and the young ones have returned from mourning their friend. Luke explains to them all what happened in their absence. They are leery of Magnus still, but none look overtly hostile.

At sundown, the tribe assembles in the square. Alania stands before them. Hilde is still bound, but she has gone calm. Magnus stands beside Alania, opposite Hilde. The men and women of the tribe stand before the chieftain. Luke stands by his mistress, an Elvaran who is slightly shorter than the others. She has her arm around his shoulders. Roland is seated by his mistress' feet and she pets his head affectionately. And I stand by Keira, who holds my hand firmly in her's. Other men and their mistresses are quietly talking until Alania silences them.

"Hilde," she pronounces, "for the crime of murdering a child, and the crime of physically and mentally torturing your male, I sentence you to suffer in the House of Penance, at the hands of Alma the Sword-Cleaver, until your death."

"What? No! That place is for males!" pleads Hilde. "It is their place to suffer!"

Alma sneers wickedly as she seizes Hilde's bound form and unceremoniously drags her away. More than one Elvaran applauds. I do not pity Hilde, but I do not envy her. The crowd falls silent again, now awaiting Magnus' judgement.

"Magnus," proclaims Alania, "for the crime of endangering the young folk of our tribe, but bearing in mind your suffering and the words of Sven the bard and his mistress, your sentence will be as follows. Tomorrow I will take you into the House of Penance, each device therein shall be used upon you at least once, and then you will be marched outside to watch as that building is burnt to the ground, never to be used on another being again... You cannot escape your deeds without penalty, but you are not an evil man."

Magnus is overcome by emotion, a peculiar sensation it seems, for he knows not how to act. Excitement, dread, elation, and foreboding war for dominance within him. At last he turns to Alania and meets her eyes.

"I understand," he speaks, his voice unwavering, "and I thank you."

He embraces the queen and she kindly returns the gesture before sending him to stand amongst the crowd. But even with torture looming over him, his good mood cannot be quelled.

"Roland," he says as he passes the masochistic man, "tomorrow I will be the last being within that room of torture. Are you jealous?"

The crowd explodes with mirth. Even Alania laughs at Magnus' quip. Roland is of course beside himself with delight, laughing loudly and feigning anger at Magnus and his "good fortune." Or at least I assume he is feigning it. Roland is, by his own admission, quite the masochist, he might actually be jealous of those awful tortures.

"My tribe," Alania loudly calls, capturing everyone's attention, "I have one more pronouncement to make. The Elvaran way is one of dominance, of power, of strength. Our males serve us and this will not change. But for our folk to be strong, we must all be strong. Our males will continue to serve us, but they shall serve to their strengths, that our homes may be strong, and our villages as vibrant as our armies are powerful!"

I am speechless at the tribe's collective decision voiced by its leader. We will still serve, but not like beaten slaves, instead as valued members of this village. We will serve a vital role just as the Elvaran do. I cannot believe my fortune. Yet, knowing Keira to be kind and Alania to be likewise understanding, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

"None shall be forced to kneel in our village," Alania continues, "save for our captured enemies, and all of us in worship of the Goddesses."

"And me." Roland chimes in.

This time even Alania can't contain her laughter to a dignified chuckle. The meeting adjourns in high spirits. Perhaps this is the best way to honor the memory of that poor, slaughtered child, by doing all in our power to make our folk stronger.

"How do you feel?" Keira asks me as we make our way home.

"I am a bit sore still," I tell her, "not fully healed. But I am okay."

"Good..." she purrs, and I shudder at the predatory gleam in her eyes.

Keira sweeps me into her arms and carries me the rest of the way home. That excited, feral look in her eyes doesn't fade. I feel I may be in for quite the night. And I'm rather excited.

"Tell me if I hurt you too much." Keira says as she disrobes me swiftly.

I lay on my back upon our bed and smile up at my beautiful mistress. Today has been a wild ride from mourning to panic to jubilation. And now physical ecstasy. Keira looms over me, glorious and nude in the flickering light of our hearth fire. Her body is pale and perfect, her musculature clearly defined, her breasts full and enticing. She sits astride me, her thighs on either side of my hips. I feel trapped, helpless under her, but I am not afraid.

"Please," Keira insists, "tell me if I get too rough."

"I promise." I assure her.

And then she is upon me, her powerful, beautiful body pressing down on me, her firm breasts pushing into my chest. Her lips find mine and she engulfs my mouth in a fierce kiss, her tongue probes into my mouth, exploring eagerly. She bites at my lips playfully, eliciting a little yelp of pleasure from me. Keira takes this as a good sign and moves her lips to my neck, nibbling softly and licking my skin. I moan involuntarily, my body shuddering under her.

"Don't make me beg." I playfully exclaim. "You're driving me mad."

Keira takes pity on my desperately aroused self and guides my erect member into her warm depths. Her inner walls squeeze tight around my hard shaft as she engulfs me up to my base. My low moan turns into a sigh of pure pleasure as Keira's hips rock back and forth. Her motion makes my whole body move under her and I thrust up to get as far into her as I can manage. Our bodies press together in ecstatic, lustful thrusts. Keira's lips meet mine again and she moans into my mouth as our thrusting increases.

"I love you, my little Sven." she hisses into my ear, before nibbling eagerly on my earlobe.

"I love you too, Keira." I reply, and I mean it truly.

I climax within her hot depths, gasping and crying out, my eyes shutting tightly with the pleasure. My climax subsides after a while, leaving me exhausted and hyper sensitive to the sensation of Keira upon me. I open my eyes to see a particularly devious look on Keira's beautiful face.

"What are you thinking?" I ask. "Or do I want to know?"

Keira spends a moment lightly nipping at my collarbone before she responds.

"A few things," she tells me, "of which you should be aware. One, I didn't get a climax out of that little encounter. Two, you did. Three, you did not look me in the eye as I gave you such glorious pleasure. Four, I will have to have my way with you until you can withhold your climax so our pleasure might synchronize, and you will look me in the eyes whilst our pleasure reaches its mutual apex. I'll just ravish you 'til you get it right."

"Ha, you are so excitable." I chuckle warmly.

But the look in her eyes tells me that Keira is quite serious. She will not truly hurt me, or do anything against my will. I know this of her, I trust her. But I also know she will get what she wants, and that tonight is going to be a very long and exhausting night...