The High King: A Tale of Alus (15 page)

After a dinner in the main dining hall where he was once again required to preside over the activity at the head table in Merrick's absence, even though the lord was present. He was taking his meal in his chambers this night.

After dinner, Krulir returned to his own suite of rooms. Seeing his head servant woman, a graying dark haired beauty, as Krulir entered his rooms, he said tiredly, "I hope that you have taken the liberty to draw me my bath, Alia."

"I had Okostre fill it only moments ago, my lord vizier," the woman answered and bowed slightly to her master. Though she had been in his service for more than fifteen years already and he tended to allow Alia a few familiarities, she always greeted him formally upon his return. He appreciated the woman's tact. If the old man hadn't, she would have been dismissed ages ago, and since his wife's death over ten years ago, Alia was truly the only woman that he could feel close too at all.

Two other women stood behind her waiting. One was his other servant woman Okostre, another brunette still young enough in her looks to be pretty to him, and the other much younger woman he felt like he had never seen before. Serra had been cleaned up quite well and was clothed in the light blue skirt and blouse that his women wore during the spring. He smiled warmly and praised, "You did well with the girl, Alia. Has she trained well?"

"Yes, master, she is intelligent and well mannered."
"Good," the old man nodded approvingly. "Okostre prepare my bed and clothes for tomorrow. Alia, you and Serra will help me with my bath."
The bathing room was a large stone chamber with several decorative hangings along the walls for color. Even after all these years, Krulir marveled at the most recent innovations that had been added to the room. Less than a decade ago, a system of piping had been installed that carried water from the highest tower on the roof of the castle to just five rooms. Most went to the royal chambers and one to his own bath chamber. Once there, another modern convenience could contain the water where a fire could then heat the large cylinder it was stored inside and thus the water within. A last pipe ran from that cylinder into a large bath that was both deep and wide.
With Alia's help, the vizier removed his robes and linens. He stepped quickly up a pair of stairs and settled into the warm water of the tub. It's steam lifted around his face in the cool air of the room and the heat worked to soothe his ancient, aching joints. Opening his eyes with a quiet sigh, he watched as Alia slipped from her clothes and laid them in a careful bundle. The woman started to enter the tub eager to leave the chill air as well. Krulir noticed Serra standing back from the tub uncertainly with eyes half averted. Her arms were crossed holding herself tightly. "Alia," he pointed stopping the woman's descent.
The head servant scolded quickly, "Serra, remove your clothes. We're here to help bathe the vizier."
The girl hesitated, but, after nearly two years of slavery, she knew that her dignity and wishes were no longer hers to carry. Resistance was not an option and Serra slowly slipped off the skirt and blouse as Alia had done before her. Seeing her cooperation was assured, Alia stepped into the pool with a sigh as she started to shiver from the cool air.
Krulir watched closely as Serra approached with her shoulders slightly drooped from her shame. She was nearly to full blossom at her young age of nearly sixteen. A few years more would probably lend her breasts even more fullness and her hips would surely curve that much more gracefully, but already she was a beautiful, young lady. As Serra hesitated once again at the water's edge, Krulir sighed exasperatedly, "Get in, girl, before you catch your death of cold in this air. The water's hot enough, but the air around this stone never seems to warm. Sometimes not even in summer."
She closed her eyes as she entered the water. A soft moan slipped nearly unnoticed from her lips as the warmth surprised her. He could sense her fear and quickly understood the reason. "Do you believe that I plan to deflower you, girl? I assure you that, whether I may wish to do so or not, I have grown too old for such vices. I merely picked you, child, since I sensed the qualities I cherish in my women. Beauty, grace, and even youth. I am old. Having pretty women near to aid me in my golden years makes it more bearable."
"Wrinkled as you are, we have still learned to like you, master," Alia teased and kissed his forehead before glancing at Serra.
With the woman inclined before him, the vizier took hold and gently caressed her breasts. "Watch yourself, woman," he chided with a smile playing about his lips. "My hands still work as does most of me. Too many parts move slower unfortunately, but I can still enjoy certain pleasures of the flesh allowed me."
Serra drew back quietly to the far side of the pool as surreptitiously as possible as the other two explored the bounties that the woman had to offer. Krulir quickly noticed and frowned at her meekness. "Serra, come here," he ordered without malice. The girl did as she was told, though her reluctance was still obvious. "Take the soap and wash cloth. You will clean me from head to toe and, if I choose to caress you anywhere, you will yield. Do you understand?" he questioned making an unvoiced threat.
With tears in her eyes, Serra nodded. "Yes, vizier," she whimpered. Beginning with his back, the girl began her task.
Knowing that he needed to break this girl of her inhibitions to be a good servant, Krulir reached out and took hold of her breasts firmly. The girl's breathing hissed through gritted teeth in response. He moved his hands down her abdomen sliding them against the tight flesh ending with his right hand cupping the soft divide between her legs. His left hand reached back behind her soft slim neck and pulled her face closer to his. "This is the worst that I will ever do to you, Serra, if you cooperate. When you behave and do your tasks properly, life here will be pleasant. When you resist or fail me, I may need to punish you. If that is clear enough, then it is up to you to decide how you wish to be treated."
"Yes, vizier," she whispered as her body trembled between his hands. He released her and the girl continued her task of bathing him. She never paused though Krulir felt her loathing as she touched him where she had never laid her hands on a man before, even as he often touched her.
After the long bath was over, Krulir made his way to his bedroom leaving the two women in the bath. Okostre would lay in his bed to warm it this night. He considered when he would need to bring the new girl there one day.

With the vizier gone from the room, Serra began to shake uncontrollably and quickly tears came into her eyes. Alia watched the girl's whimpering passively from her side of the water. Serra's body was young and firm, she thought wistfully. Her youth resonated all through her even as Alia glanced down bleakly at her own slowly fading attributes. The woman was almost envious as she thought of the girl's emotions on display before her.

Alia moved forward to hug the girl to her breast. Their skin contacted and the feel of Serra sent shivers through her as well. The older woman began petting the girl's head and whispered to calm her. "Don't worry, Serra. It won't be that bad often. You just let it out and go on all right? You're strong enough, I'm sure. The vizier is usually quite gentle. Just do as he bids and everything will be fine."

After a time, the two women dried off and replaced their clothing. Alia led her to a small room off to one side that held a large bed. The two of them slid beneath the covers and attempted to sleep. Late in the night, Alia awoke to hear Serra retching into a bedpan beside the bed. The woman sighed and hoped that the girl would work out.

Gerid awoke feeling great pain. A dream of seeing his sister as a slave of Merrick, though he knew her to be dead, had floated to him as the man slept. He had also seen Simon working with some faceless plantation owner. His brother was doing the man's books and teaching his master all that he had learned of business to try and attempt to gain his freedom, or at least that was what Gerid guessed was the dream's theme.

When he finally tried to open his eyes after a time, darkness still engulfed his vision. Panic rushed through him. Feeling suffocated lent him to a frenzy of motion. Pulling at the weight attempting to hold him down, it took several seconds before light found his eyes. Gerid quickly wished it hadn't as he realized that he lay within a great mound of dead bodies. Their smell sickened him. In horror, the giant surged from the bloody mass.

A scream sounded from nearby as he waded from the mound of bloodied flesh. Several villagers were close by and witnessed the frightening sight of a dead man rising. Some scurried away with mumblings of sorcery and demons, even as the woman continued to scream incoherently. Looking himself over quickly, Gerid found that his skin and clothes were blood soaked, while his armor and weapons had disappeared. Probably scavenged, he thought offhandedly.

The girl's screaming persisted and annoyed Gerid swiftly. "Shut up already!" he growled crossly at her. Stunned by his outburst, she stopped. "Where are my weapons, woman?"

"The soldiers took `em," was the quiet, numb reply as she stared at him incredulously.
"Which soldiers?"
"Rhearden mercenaries," an older man answered from behind him. He appeared nearly as incredulous as the girl, who he moved forward to take hold of her shoulders.
"Do you know where they went or why I was left here unconscious in this pile of dead?" Gerid asked as his frustration started to well up and overwhelm him.
"They returned northeast to reunite with the rest of the army, I would assume. Why you would wake up in the pile is because they believed you dead. We heard them speaking well of your efforts though. You had slain quite a few of the enemy before your troops arrived to clean up the rest.
"I know that you looked to be stabbed to death from my own eyes. What manner of creature are you that you live now when a normal man would have surely remained to let the fires consume himself with the other dead?"
Gerid noted that his undershirt was indeed torn in several places that should have killed him when he looked at it. He pulled the garment up over his head and surveyed several red gashes on his torso. They were no longer bleeding much as his body attempted to scab over the openings. "Apparently, the enemy has done less damage than believed," he replied absently. Gerid looked up at the man and asked, "Tell me, can you show me a place where I can bathe and tend my wounds, perhaps even clean my clothes?"
The man was reluctant and his eyes strayed as if by moving them he could escape Gerid's attentions. "But what if your presence is an act of demons? My family would not be safe, if we invited you in. That is how they get you, isn't it?"
Getting annoyed again, Gerid shouted, "If I were a demon, then I would not care about washing away this blood! I would revel in it and kill you as well for sheer spite! Now if you don't mind," he spoke sarcastically, "would you please give me a chance to refresh myself and tend to my wounds, so that I might catch up to my men?"
A few moments passed before the man nodded reluctantly and signaled for Gerid to follow him. He and the girl led him to a small home where the man filled a large bowl of water and brought out a needle and thread to bind the wounds. The man had other children in his home and, while Gerid remained, the entire family huddled into the furthest shadows in the wall across from him. All eyed him intently.
Managing to coerce a few rolls, a large piece of meat and a canteen of water from the man in exchange for his just leaving quickly, Gerid soon took to the road that he guessed his soldiers would be following. After finishing the meat and a roll, the man found himself remarkably refreshed. Picking up his pace even, Gerid hoped to catch up to his company by the evening. He had only been asleep for a few hours, after all. How far could they get after cleaning up from battle?
Without even bothering to cast a backward glance to the town that had treated him like a living dead thing, Gerid strode strongly through the late afternoon light in pursuit of his men.

"Halt where you are!" a soldier shouted into the dark woods surrounding the camp. Only a pair of fires was lit in their pits illuminating those parts of the camp with a half dozen tents erected around them. Gelinas, the third moon, was just beginning its entrance from the east and Turas was fading in the west. A nervous tension could be felt in the air from those who remained awake to safeguard the men of Gerid's company so close to the enemy line. The rustlings in the woods continued and the man shouted again, "Identify yourself, stranger!"

Gerid pushed through the final bushes where he could finally see the dim light of the small campfires in the center of the tents and bed rolls that constituted his command. Three soldiers stiffened only a dozen paces from him as he heard a couple of the other men from the west watch come running to help out. A rustling of bedrolls and tents meant that a few of the more sleepless men would be joining soon as well. One of the east watch, noticing Gerid’s white hair and great bulk in the darkness, suddenly shouted, "It's the lieutenant's ghost!"

Stepping forward swiftly, Gerid grabbed hold of the man's shirt and hauled him into the air. Dangling the man casually, he asked angrily, "Do I feel dead to you, Joric?" He returned the guard to his feet. "Where's Bakur? I need a few words with the sergeant. Ulus, go scrounge up some food for me also. I'm starving after marching after you all night." The second man paused even as Joric ran away without being told twice. Gerid's eyes narrowed and he growled, "I am not a ghost here to haunt you, but, if I die from your unwillingness to bring me something to eat, I will haunt you for the rest of your days! Now move it, man!"

"Yes, sir!" Ulus snapped with only a little less fear in his face. The soldier's training returned and he moved quickly to fulfill the orders.

The disturbance had already brought several other men running from their blankets. Bakur was one of the first to arrive with his sword in hand and only half dressed. The sergeant had saved Joric a search and the guard returned following several slow paces behind the other man. "What is going on here, Joric? Report," the sergeant commanded, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Finally, noticing Gerid before him, the sergeant's jaw dropped in shock. "Lieutenant!" he whispered in horror and surprise.