Slathaar: Invasion Ch. 02

Story Info
The journey gets underway - Mariam gets punished.
4.9k words
4.41
10.2k
3
Story does not have any tags

Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 08/31/2017
Created 04/19/2014
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Author's Note:

Right. When you write a story with only the broadest idea where it is going, you will occasionally screw things up. So, the first correction. In the first chapter, I mention that Ormr has a gun in his hand. Let's back away from that one. This will remain a pre-gun world.

Haven't read the first chapter? Please do! This story won't make much sense otherwise. Also, I will have a glossary on my blog, www.taracrescent.com if you are struggling with my Viking names and figuring out who's who.

This chapter is kind of slow. It's basically setting up the characters and their respective backstories, and also setting up one big cause for future conflict. There'll be more action in the next chapter. Really.

I'm still struggling with paid work, and writing this story, in the midst of the other work I should be doing constitutes an act of rebellion. Updates will happen, but the paid work does get prioritized.

As always, much gratitude to my editor, who both provides valuable feedback and ego-stoking compliments.

Please comment, and when the world-building doesn't make sense, point it out!

*****

Gareth:

I hear Mariam and Ormr depart for a tavern in the city, some distance from our encampment. For a moment, I wish I could join them. Laugh with friends in the warmth of a tavern, with a pretty barmaid bringing us cold tankards of ale.

But I am Overlord of Slathaar, and such things are not for me anymore. Not until my people once again have a home. My duty is clear, and I don't flinch from it.

Mariam had spoken the words of the First Prayer earlier. I have no use for religion, but prayer is more than faith. Prayer is enduring memory of who we are as a people. Memory that will be tested in the journey ahead.

I sink to my knees in the dark of my tent, the candle extinguished, and I speak the words of the War Prayer. For in the morn, we set out to battle.

I see the blood of the enemies I have vanquished.

I see my ancestors, and they greet me with pride.

I see before me the path that leads to the Halls of Rest.

Let me journey there, Arsu, and let me remain there until the end of time.

***

Aldis:

In the morn, we leave for a foreign land.

Six months ago, I would have stayed behind, like my eldest brother Ashalf. I would have been planning my wedding, spending the quiet hours of our long winter evenings in front of the fireplace putting small stitches in garments that would have served as my wedding trousseau. My betrothed Hagan would have been watching me with a slight smile on his lips.

Six months ago, my life had been filled with laughter and happiness.

And then, Kanata.

We never found Hagan's body.

Take your seat among our ancestors in the Halls of Rest with pride, my love.

One day, and the course of my life had changed. And so, when the soldiers were being picked for this arduous, dangerous journey to the South Seas, I had volunteered. Gareth had studied me with that thoughtful look in his eyes. And then he had nodded assent.

Gareth goes south as obligation to Slathaar. He is Overlord; he will not shirk his duties.

My brother Ormr goes to seek adventure.

And I? The rolling green hills of my land are no longer any comfort. There is an ache in my heart that hasn't dimmed in the last six months. I am not coward enough to kill myself; I would not anger Arsu thus.

And so I journey to forget.

***

Gareth:

The sun rises early in the North Sea this time of the year. The early days of spring have passed, where it rains constantly, and ice is almost as likely as a warm breeze. Now, there's a firm promise of summer in the air. The rolling hills are covered in green. It is not quite past four in the morning when the flap of my tent pushes open, and two people walk in.

I half-rise in bed, shield my eyes against the first morning light, and squint. Then groan.

"For Arsu's Sake, mother," I grumble. "You have heard of knocking, I hear it?"

She raises an impatient eyebrow.

"I need to dress," I say. We both smile slightly as we hear the tone in my voice. I'm thirty years old, and I sound like a petulant teenager. My mother has a habit of doing that to me.

"I have seen you naked before, Gareth." Her voice is dry. "I did give birth to you."

I grab a pair of pants from the spot by the bed where it was tossed last night. The other person who had followed my mother in was Sigururr. Slaathan Spy Master. I need a clear head for this conversation then.

"Could you send for some coffee please?" I ask the guard outside the tent, who has heard most of the conversation inside, and is struggling not to laugh.

"Of course, Overlord," he says, making a credible attempt to straighten his features into something resembling seriousness. I don't bother to get annoyed by the amusement. I would have laughed outright in his place, and besides, if Arngeirr and Mariam have chosen him to guard my tent, his competence and loyalty is beyond question.

I walk back into the tent, and take a seat at the small table. Sigururr is already unrolling maps and parchment on the table.

We go over the latest information. Arianne alliances are written in sand. They shift frequently and mean nothing. We can conquer towns quickly, but we won't be able to hold them with just three war-ships. We'll have to form alliances, either by peace or force.

Force is Sigururr's polite way of saying kidnap some royalty and keep them captive.

I hate this plan, yet I know that if it comes to it, I'll follow it to the letter. The survival of Slathaar is at stake. My soul is a small price to pay.

And then Sigururr speaks again, and both my mother and I whiten as he reveals the scrap of information that he has come by. "We have some new intelligence," he begins without preamble. "Something the Arianne have kept very, very quiet." He tells me, and I recoil in shock as I hear.

"This is not who we are," my mother says finally, her voice an appalled whisper.

I don't speak for many minutes. The survival of Slathaar is at stake. Finally, I raise my head. My voice, when I find words, is immeasurably bleak. "Ormr and Aldis need to hear this. And summon Draef as well. He will provide wise counsel."

***

Ormr:

Everything hurts in the early morn, and of course, I get summoned to Council. Thankfully, there is a steaming pot of coffee. I help myself and groan as the throbbing in my head intensifies. My aunt Brenna looks mildly disapproving, but I am practiced at placating her. I wink, and she laughs before turning serious.

All eyes are on Gareth.

"As we know," he begins, "there are three nations in Arianne that we wanted to focus our efforts of alliance or conquest on. The ones with the easiest passages to Samarra. Carliss, Ersan and Rizzolo."

We all nod.

"Coincidentally, these three nations are also the ones with the most despotic rulers. Rizzolo's citizens starve in order to pay their taxes. Carliss and Ersan, where a single crop failure can result in the farmers being sold as bond slaves for three years."

Bond slaves is a curious and reprehensible custom of the Arianne. The entire continent practices it. Any man or woman can be sold into slavery for a set period of time, depending on the offense. Bond slaves have some rights, but short of major maiming and murder, their masters can do as they will with them. Ever since I heard Sigururr's first report, I have tried not to think about it too much. Because to dwell on it would have been to hate the Arianne, and hatred wasn't a useful emotion in the journey we were undertaking.

But Gareth continued, and I realized that hatred was going to be impossible to hold back.

"Carliss, Ersan and Rizzolo - their alliances are somewhat transient and marked by treachery. But certain alliances seem to hold. Sigururr has just learned why. Sigururr, why don't you tell us?"

There is a look of distaste on Sigururr's face, which is odd, because Sigururr usually never betrays any emotion. I've played poker with the man, and he is the devil to play with. He has no tell. None at all.

"The marriages of Arianne royalty has always intrigued us," he starts. "Because they don't use the same words we do. No wife. No husband. They refer to their partners as consorts. But then, we found some references to wives and husbands."

He stops. The look of distaste has intensified to revulsion. Gareth's voice is harsh as he picks up where Sigururr has left off.

"The title of wife or husband are Arianne words for blood slaves. Slaves for life. They enslave their daughters and their sons to secure lasting alliances. The only way to escape Arianne treachery is through an alliance secured by slavery."

He looks at me and at Aldis. "Ormr. Aldis. As Slaathan royalty, you knew we might be required to marry to secure alliances. Carliss, Ersan and Rizzolo all have eligible offspring."

I interrupt, shocked at what Gareth is implying. My voice is harsh. Disbelieving. The ache in my head is so intense I don't think I can withstand it. "No. Absolutely not. We are Slaathan. We do not enslave."

Gareth's face is tight with anger. "Do you think I contemplate this lightly?" he snarls at me. "Do you think I want this? This is what it means to rule, Ormr. You don't get to make the easy decisions. Everyone doesn't win and live happily ever after."

No. Arsu, no. I cannot do this to some innocent young woman in the name of an alliance. "And you would ruin the lives of people that have done us no harm?" I snap back.

The tension is thick in the room. I watch Brenna look from Gareth to me, and she takes a deep breath. Gareth and I are like brothers. We are kin. And I have never been angrier with him.

She is going to interrupt, but Aldis speaks first. She has been so quiet since Hagan's death. So withdrawn. But her voice is firm. "Enslaving three Arianne royalty. Or saving a million Slaathan men, woman and children. I agree with Gareth."

I glare at her as well. Haf took Hagan to the Halls of Rest, and she sees only to save our people from Haf's wrath. But there is a deep unease in me. This is it. This is the slippery slope upon which we start to tread and lose all honour as a people. We are Slaathan. We do not enslave.

Brenna speaks, and her voice is soft and strained. "Ormr," she says hesitantly. "Do you really believe that Gareth wants this?"

It is the use of his name that finally calms me. Because while I don't know what the Overlord will do for Slathaar, I do know my cousin Gareth. Gareth is the most honourable man I know. Gareth will hate this. And he will do everything in his power to prevent this.

We look silently at each other. Finally, Gareth speaks. "I loathe this," he says quietly.

I sigh as the tension drains out from both of us. "My apologies, Gareth," I say. I take out the knife I carry and I slice open my palm, and Gareth, seeing what I do, does the same. Our palms touch and our blood mingles, and I speak the words of fealty. Because I know my cousin. He will do the right thing.

"My sword is your sword, Overlord. And my blood is your blood."

He nods. His voice is very quiet, and his words, though addressed to me, are spoken to all in the room. "I pray I don't abuse your trust, cousin."

Gareth rarely smiles anymore. Aldis has retreated into herself. I have sworn fealty to a man who will do what he needs to do to save our people. Kanata has changed all of us.

***

Mariam:

There is a ceremony, of course, because it isn't possible to send off the Overlord and a small force in a quest for a new home without ceremony.

First, the High Priest of Haf prays, as is the protocol ahead of any sea voyage. I wince as my head throbs, and I hear Arngeirr snort next to me. "Perhaps Mariam," he says, his voice dry as toast, "you will rethink the timing the next time you get the urge to visit a tavern."

Arngeirr, First-in-Command of the Armies of all Slathaar. I'm going to miss his dry humour, his friendship and his counsel.

"Thank you, Arngeirr, that is very useful advice," I hiss back. Please. Arngeirr's drinking exploits are something of legend in Slathaar.

He snorts again in amusement.

The High Priest finishes, and I kneel, outwardly respectful. In this journey, I command the warriors of Slathaar that accompany us. My lack of faith does not worry me. But the people need to believe that we will be successful in this journey to find a new home. They will seek Haf's blessing. I kneel accordingly.

Haf is Arsu's twin brother. The Sea God. You would think in a sea-faring nation like Slathaar, Haf would be our primary God. And he isn't inconsequential, of course. But Arsu dominates. Arsu is the Sun. Arsu is War.

We are a people used to war.

After the High Priest of Haf is finished, Ingrid, High Priestess of Arsu steps up the makeshift podium. An immediate hush descends on the assembled gathering. For Ingrid has prophesised the destruction in Kanata, and it has come to pass.

The Overlord kneels before her. She hands him his sword, blessed by Arsu. His sword will now seek blood as a gift to the High One.

Finally, Gareth speaks the words of appointment in front of all assembled. He names his mother Brenna Protector of Slathaar. Ashalf, Second of Slathaar will stay home to protect our people, as will Arngeirr, First-in-Command of the Armies.

Then, we are done. Six hundred strong to try to conquer a continent. The wind blows, the three square sails on the ships are raised, and we leave home.

I tell myself the moisture on my cheeks is just the spray from the water.

***

Gareth:

The Barden is beautiful. She skims over the water, and as I feel the gentle undulations from the waves, I put aside the conversation from this morning with difficulty. Enslaving the Arianne is repugnant to all of us. I pray it doesn't come to that. As the sea spray hits my face, I feel the headache from this morning recede slightly, and peace fills me for the first time in a long time. I am Slaathan. Haf is in my blood.

I take a look at Mariam, who is talking to Ardef, Barden's captain. They are probably talking about rowing rotations; how the crew will be quartered, and other such mundane but essential details. When their conversation winds down, she makes her way to me, and I suppress a grin. Up close, she looks terrible. She is always slightly sea-sick at the start of a voyage. Plus, if I am any judge of it, she is hung-over and hurting.

"I should have the men do a drill, don't you think? Full inspection? We need to make sure everything's ship-shape." I work really hard at keeping the laughter out of my voice. She'll have to bust her ass for a full inspection, and I'll wager that all she wants to do right then is to go back to sleep.

"Of course, Overlord." She tries to keep the dismay out of her voice.

I just laugh.

"Damn it, Gareth," she mutters, smiling briefly. "Yes, I richly deserve this hangover, but gods, I'm going to be sick all over the side of this ship."

"Please don't be," I say hastily. "Ardef will be very unhappy with you. Go to my quarters, there's some travia essence in my coat pocket."

"Oh, thank Arsu," she says fervently. "Gareth, you are a life-saver."

***

The Barden has two hundred Slaathan warriors. One hundred rowing benches, fifty on either side. In addition to the warriors, travelling with me on the Barden are my inner council.

There's Braed, who is Assistant Spy Master. He is a small man, possessing the ability to completely blend into his surroundings. It is a formidable skill; I'm in awe of that man. He's also our expert on Arianne. No Slaathan warship has set out to Arianne's shores for over three hundred years. Odd merchants here and there, and our spies have always kept an eye on their ever-shifting alliances, but Arianne has largely escaped our scrutiny for many generations, as we have dealt with threats from East and West.

There's Draef, my Chief of Staff, and my personal nemesis. Draef runs my life and ruthlessly schedules every minute of my day. I trust his counsel unreservedly. And of course, there's Mariam, who commands the Armies in my name. Finally, Kari, Priestess of Arsu, who Ingrid has hand-picked to accompany us. I don't know Kari at all.

On the Visund is Ormr, Third of Slathaar, with two hundred hand-picked warriors. And finally, on the Ormen is Aldis, Fourth of Slathaar. Ormr's sister. With her own complement of warriors.

It is a small force, but the six hundred warriors have been hand-picked. They are the best of Slathaar. If I go into battle, I go with men and women that I trust completely.

***

Once we are well underway, I head towards Meagan. Healer.

We had tried arguing with Meagan about coming on this journey. She is old. Healer to my father before me. Her journey to the Halls of Rest approaches. But she'd snorted in disdain as Draef had carefully suggested that someone else come on this journey. I had watched her speak scathing words to him, and I had repressed a shudder and a grin.

"Healer," I start respectfully as I approach her. I had tried to suggest that she take my quarters instead of sleeping on the open deck, and had received my allotment of Meagan's sarcastic tongue lashing for daring to suggest that she wasn't sturdy enough for this journey. Draef had laughed openly at her words, and then the two of us had retreated to a tavern to nurse our wounds.

Meagan looks up at me. "Damn fool boy," she grumbles. "I suppose you want something for your palm." The oath is designed with intent, not to be entered into lightly. Both Ormr and I will feel the pain for months as we grip our swords.

I don't wonder how Meagan knows about Ormr's oath of fealty. Meagan knows everything. "Yes, Meagan," I say meekly, extending my palm towards her. The cut had healed slightly, but any movement opens the wound. It is bleeding now.

She looks at me disapprovingly. "Inconvenient time to swear fealty," she says. She takes out a small bottle from her chest and opens it, and smears the lotion over my palm. Immediate relief flows through me, and I gratefully mutter my thanks. She rolls her eyes at me.

"Take the rest of it," she orders. Meagan has been healing me since I was a boy. Scrapes on my knee. Cuts in my side from battle, both real and staged. She is as family to me.

She's also the most talented Healer in the North Seas.

I smile at her, and her eyes soften for a split second. My smile widens to a smirk, and then she laughs. "Silly child," she chides. "Go."

***

Palm taken care of, I head to my quarters. There's only two small quarters on the ship. Most everyone will sleep on the deck under the open skies. But as Overlord, I have a small, private chamber that Meagan refused to take. And the other chamber is reserved for Kari, in accordance to her rank as Priestess of Arsu. I supress a smile at the memory of Ardef's muttered cursing when he realized he had to give up his chambers for the Priestess. It hadn't been very respectful at all. Perhaps she'll share it with him though. I saw Kari give Ardef an assessing look as she had boarded the ship, one he returned in full. It is a long voyage. One must seek pleasures where one can.

Talking about seeking pleasure where I can, I eye Mariam. She has taken her clothes off in bed. She is very naked, and very beautiful. She opens her eyes sleepily at the sound of my entry, and she smiles at me. She also looks slightly guilty. "I didn't use up your entire supply of travia essence, did I?"

12