A Servant of Arubhár 01

********* CHAPTER 1 *********

LOW FOG SHROUDED the countryside in mist. Hidden behind a leaden sky, the sun cast a meager light that did nothing to warm the cool, crisp air. After three days of rain, the ground was moist and soggy under her feet as Anári made her way back to the village. Clutching her basket to her chest, she stepped over a rotting log, careful not to spill any of its precious content. She'd been lucky today, finding a small cluster of edible mushrooms and some berries still good enough to eat. Combined with the eggs of the two hens they had left, it should be enough to give her and her parents at least a little nourishment over the next couple of days.

When she reached the edge of the woods surrounding her village she paused, looked out over the empty fields. They had managed to harvest a few potatoes this year, along with some beets and some cabbage. But not anywhere near enough to feed the remaining villagers, she knew, and let out a long breath.

Winter was almost upon them. Already, the temperature was dropping steadily, the trees almost bare of their colorful leaves. Soon, they'd have to light fires to get them through the cooler nights.

Shivering, she pulled her threadbare cloak tighter around her shoulders, picked her way through ground soaked by rain and riddled with puddles back to her home. It was hard to believe that, as a child, she'd run through these fields, rich and tall with corn and grain and sunflowers, playing and laughing without a care in the world.

Once prosperous, the kingdom of Verenosi could no longer sustain its people—all due to the greed and hate of one single man. Anári cursed when, despite her care, her foot sunk to the ankle in muck and water, ruining her last pair of shoes. Then added a few choice words for King Marvos, the man responsible for it all.

Anári had just passed her fourteenth birthday when news of the war had begun to spread. King Marvos hated the neighboring, peaceful troll nations, despite the vast trade and riches they brought to his lands. Considered their inhabitants inferior to mankind. Not long into his reign, he'd decided to conquer their kingdoms, and had started a devastating war.

For six years, he'd depleted Verenosi of its resources in order to supply the armies fighting in troll lands. Battle after battle had been waged, killing hundreds of thousands of able-bodied men. When too many soldiers had fallen, farmers and craftsmen had been pulled from their work to replenish the numbers of his ever-shrinking fighting force.

By the time King Marvos had finally been slain—at a battle not far from the border, for the trolls had successfully beaten him back—Verenosi had been but a broken shell of its former self. There weren't enough men left to work the fields, or even enough seeds to replant. Without the needed skilled workforce or necessary supplies, construction, simple daily labor had ground to a halt.

Nearly seven years later, Verenosi still lay in ruins.

Sighing, Anári shook her head. Why humans forever considered themselves better than any other race was beyond her. The trolls could have easily taken these lands after King Marvos' defeat. They could have raided, pillaged what was left, raped, enslaved Verenosi's people.

Yet, to everyone's surprise and great relief, they hadn't. The trolls had simply left the ravaged nation to fend for itself, and began using it for a shortcut thoroughfare to travel between their lands.

Avoiding the deepest grooves and muck of the road that wound through the village, Anári made her way over to where her neighbor was hanging a freshly washed sheet over a remaining part of fence to dry. The woman, three years older than Anári's twenty-six, had been her best friend since childhood.

"How's your mother today," Anári inquired once she reached the fence, knowing the older woman hadn't been faring well.

"The fever comes and goes." Marwena shrugged. "But at least her breathing's a little better. Managed to get some broth in her last night. That should help. Now I can only hope this cursed rain will hold off long enough for the sheets to dry."

Anári cast a doubtful look up at the dark gray sky, then turned back to her friend. "I've a few logs laid out to dry at my home. If it rains, I'll bring them over. That way you can light a fire and dry the sheets inside."

A ghost of a smile flitted around Marwena's mouth. "You're too kind. But we'll make do. At least I still have sheets. Which is more than can be said about most around here."

"It's been tough, that's for sure. And it's only getting harder every day." Anári took a deep breath, let it out. "I've been thinking . . ." Pausing, she took a look around. The small cluster of cottages was in a terrible state of disrepair. Pens that once housed animals now stood empty, their simple wooden barriers broken and decaying in the dirt. Across the street, the straw roof of the abandoned blacksmith shop had caved in, its stone walls crumbing after years of neglect. The blown-in leaves littering the floor only made the scene more poignant. "Perhaps it's time to leave this place. Perhaps the others had it right?"

"Hmpf. And go where? It's no better anywhere else. Unless you're a noble. And even they live by the sword, constantly warring with neighboring lords. There's no government left to keep them in line, so they're free to act out their cruelties. We're likely lucky, if you ask me, that we live so far out."

She was right, Anári knew. The nobility had never been kind. Most of the population had always been left with just enough to get by after paying the taxes. Which were typically assessed on the spot whenever a lord or his agents passed through, and usually amounted to whatever the market would bear, and often beyond. It had been normal for women to be raped by a noble's soldiers or the nobility themselves. Even men hadn't been safe from their depravities, for a noble house often entertained itself by putting on one type of sexual display or another. Slavery had been common, often the fate of those who had fallen on bad luck, and children of the poor.

Yet the common folk had gotten by. Frugally, but always with everything they'd needed. Anári couldn't remember a time when she was a child without food on the table, or coin for wool or needed tools. They might have been peasants, but they'd served a single lord, whose land and territories were determined by the king. In order to pay his own taxes to the king, a lord, in turn, had to ensure his properties thrived.

Now, with no king left to govern them, and few resources to be had, neighboring lords often waged battle with each other, plundering what little the common people could produce. Caught in the cross-hairs, entire villages were razed during the fights, and countless peasants lost their lives. The only governing done by the lords consisted of sending out bands of soldiers to collect taxes and tributes. And it was also not uncommon to owe taxes to two or more neighboring lords.

"No, it's likely no better anywhere else," Anári conceded. "But what else can we do? There's nothing left in the village. Not enough food to last us the winter, let alone seeds to plant another crop next year."

A sadness clouded Marwena's eyes. "I've some stored away, but not enough to feed all of the remaining villagers. We don't have the tools or able men to produce an adequate harvest in any case."

"Then we have no choice. We'll have to go." Much as she hated to leave the mostly elderly villagers behind, Anári hoped she'd find a way to help them once she was on the road.

"I can't leave, you know that. My mother's way too sick." Marwena's face turned serious. "And you'd better stay put as well, if you know what's good for you. How do you suppose to get where you're going? We've no horses, no carts. Your feet won't carry you but a few miles with no food in your stomach." She gripped Anári's wrist. "Listen to me. Even if you were to make it further than a few miles, what do you think will happen to you when you come across a lord's soldiers out on the road?"

Anári's chin lifted defiantly. "They come here as well. Don't they? I'm rather much accustomed to being used to sate their lusts. So they'd do nothing different on the road than they do right here." She was tired of the constant hunger, the constant struggle to survive. Tired of not doing anything about it. She needed to at least give it a try. And, truth be told, while the first time they'd forced themselves on her had been absolutely horrible, her body was designed for the act, and had quickly adjusted. Too quickly for her liking, Anári mused, since her body had soon begun to crave the stimulation only coupling could provide. She was a woman in her prime, with no man around still capable of satisfying her needs. All but her father were no longer of functioning age.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to go someplace where there were well-fed, able-bodied fighting men. Perhaps, if she went to them willingly, she could even use her body to earn herself some favors. Once accustomed to it, she didn't so much mind being used for a man's pleasure, even when they were forceful, she'd learned. It added a bit of spice to the act—which could often leave a woman wanting. And had, at times, managed to bring on her own release.

Noting the dreamy look on Anári's face, Marwena gave her friend's arm a solid shake. "You are out of your mind to even consider it. I know it's hard, living without men our age. But you know nothing of the cruelty of the soldiers. True, the lords send some from time to time. Rather rarely, thank the gods, seeing how we're too far out, and there's nothing to be had. But it's only two or three, sometimes four at best. Don't think you'll be so lucky out on the road. They travel in groups of twenty or more at a time to ensure their own safety. And they'll show no mercy to a young lass like you. They'll be using every opening you have, all at the same time. And they won't stop until they've had enough, leaving you bloodied and battered to die."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Anári yanked her arm free. "Wait here to die? It'll be slow and painful, starving to death. At least it would be quicker the other way. And I might just enjoy myself for a few moments before my life ends."

"You never know what changes the future might bring." Marwena's tone was gentle, patient. "It would be a shame for you to throw your life away." She let out a breath, carefully choosing her words to give her friend some hope. "I know it's rare, but the trolls do come through here."

"The trolls? What good does that do us?" Anári huffed. "They care less about us humans, and rightly so."

"They carry goods, food, seeds, and coin," Marwena pointed out.

Anári folded her lips. "None of which we can acquire, seeing how we've nothing to give in return." Then her eyes narrowed to slits. "Surely, you're not suggesting we should try to rob the next caravan that passes this way. Well, that would certainly be the quickest way to die."

Marwena couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up. "Gods, no! Definitely not. Unlike you, I value my life."

"Then what?" Arms crossed in front of her chest, Anári gave her friend a challenging look.

"Well . . ." I wouldn't exactly say we've nothing to give in return." Marwena hesitated. She'd dreaded this moment for quite some time, fearing she might lose her friend with the confession. But it seemed she'd lose Anári either way, and she'd do anything if it helped spare the woman's life. "Most of the trolls coming through here are male," she began. "And as such, their desires are no different than men's."

Pausing once more, she studied her friend. When Anári motioned for her to go on, she let out a breath, continued. "While we might not have any coin or goods to trade, pleasure appears to be an acceptable item for bargaining."

"Pleasure?" Anári's brows winged up in surprise. Then knitted in contemplation. "Wait. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Marwena rolled her eyes. Apparently, she'd have to spell it out. "They're willing to exchange goods or coins for sating their needs. Their sexual needs, yes. How do you think I got these sheets?" She motioned a hand to the one currently drying on the fence.

"Hmmm." Lips pursed, Anári pondered it. "I figured you've always had them. But why don't they just use whatever women they come across, like men do, instead of offering to pay?"

"It's a matter of honor in their culture, apparently. Males do not force themselves on others. Even slaves are not used sexually, unless they've agreed to do so willingly in exchange for coin or other compensation."

Anári let out a snort. "And humans consider themselves superior to other races. The only thing we seem to do better than the trolls is committing atrocities."

Relieved that her friend didn't seem to be completely disgusted with her, Marwena looked down the road to the fields yet unplowed after the harvest. Still, she couldn't help but wonder, so she asked. "You're not grossed out by what I've done?"

Anári thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "I'm intrigued, I must admit. And, to be fully honest, a bit excited." Amusement played around the corners of her mouth as she met Marwena's gaze. "And curious about how exactly you happened to learn of such facts."

A furious blush spread on Marwena's face, and she lowered her eyes. "I'd rather not say."

"Oh, do tell." Anári gave her elbow a friendly bump. "You know it's been entirely too long since I've had any excitement."

Marwena blew out a long-suffering sigh. "I relinquished even the last traces of my pride. And if you had any sense at all, you'd do the same," she added, somewhat defensively.

"I haven't seen even a hint of my pride in years," Anári stated quietly, emphasizing with her friend. Still, nothing interesting had happened in the village in years, so this story was too intriguing to miss. "But that was a rather evasive answer." Bracing a hand on the fence, Anári leaned closer to her friend. "Do humor me with details."

"You look plenty pleased already, judging by that sparkle in your eyes," Marwena accused. She felt another blush creep up her cheeks, but she knew Anári would not let up, so she relented. "It was the third troll caravan that came through here, some years after the war. Mother was already sick by then, elsewise I'd have never considered it."

When she paused again, Anári poked her arm. "Keep going. I've a feeling we're about to reach the interesting parts."

Marwena scowled at her, then turned her gaze back down the road, remembering the day. "It was later in the evening, almost full dark. I was coming back from the pond with herbs for a healing potion for my mother. I couldn't find some of the ingredients, though, and wasted some hours searching for those, instead of food." A deep sigh escaped her. "The caravan was camped outside the village. Not too close, yet my path led around the outskirts of town. And there, behind the old abandoned shed, I saw a large troll male leaning back against the crumbling stone wall, his fist moving up and down between his upper thighs."

"I knew there were interesting parts!" Anári stabbed a finger into the air.

Marwena let out a dry chuckle. "It gave me quite a start. They've never threatened us before, but he was obviously aroused, and I'd just interrupted him. I considered turning around, but it was almost dark, and I would've had to make my way around to the other side of the village."

"So you risked it?"

"Yes, I did. I respectfully lowered my head, and continued down the path toward him. To my surprise, he tucked himself back into his loincloth as I approached. Then gave me a friendly greeting. He seemed almost worried when he inquired what kept a lone woman out in these lands after dark. So I told him about the herbs for my mother's potion. I even answered him truthfully when he asked if I had found all that I needed." Marwena turned to face her friend once more. "Which lead to me learning about their customs. Are you satisfied now?"

"Not anywhere near." That wicked sparkle danced in Anári's eyes once more. "You're just now reaching the most exciting part."

"Trust me," Marwena couldn't help the quick, embarrassed laugh, "I didn't find it very exciting at the time. I was scared to death and not at all looking forward to the task."

"So, what happened?" Anári pressed.

"Since you'll pester me until I tell you, I will." Fist resting on her hip, Marwena braced herself, then proceeded. "He told me he had the herbs I needed, back at his wagon at the camp. And informed me that it was customary in his homeland to exchange favors. Then he pulled out a purse, and handed me a copper coin. A copper. Can you believe it? It would be enough to feed my mom and me for a week, I thought. And to purchase some much needed supplies. He told me to keep it or exchange it for the herbs and other goods later if I was willing to lend him a hand. That I'd earn a silver, if I used my mouth. A gold for my mouth and a normal rutting, two gold, if I let him use all three of my holes." Marwena let out another sigh, stared off into the distance. "There was so much we needed, and so much money to be had. What was I supposed to do?"

"I hope you took him for every coin he had," Anári declared. "And worked you way around the rest of the caravan while you were at it."

Laughing despite herself, Marwena looked back at her friend. "I wasn't quite so brave back then, so I only used my mouth. He was clean and fresh, to my surprise, unlike the lord's soldiers. And they are interestingly endowed, so it wasn't an altogether unpleasant experience."

Curious, Anári studied her friend. "Is that all you ever do?"

"No. I've allowed the simple rutting on more than one occasion. But I've yet to be brave enough to earn the dual gold coins."

"Is it enjoyable? What are they like?" The questions tumbled out of Anári's mouth before she could stop them.

"And here I was, worried you'd be disgusted with me once you knew," Marwena grumbled.

"There's no shame in doing what you have to do in order to survive." Anári gave her friend's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I would have done the same. Besides, it would be stupid to turn down his offer. For what? Some false sense of pride? Pride won't fill your stomach. And it won't help you and your mother through the winter. At least this way you'll be all right.

Relieved, and grateful for Anári's support, Marwena decided to answer her questions. "Yes, if I'm completely honest, it is enjoyable. As I said, they're endowed very differently from men. Very differently from each other, even, depending on the breed of troll. It causes rather unique and arousing sensations. As for the style . . . it is a rather primitive rutting. There's no finesse or skill. Some breeds take quite long to reach release, others will mount you repeatedly and seed you quickly, multiple times, before they are sated. Overall, I'd be lying if I claimed I hadn't reached my own release a time or two. Or more," she admitted after a pause, felt another blush creeping up her cheeks.

"And part of it is the dirtiness of the act, that you'd rut with what most humans would consider no more than a beast." There was a heated look on Anári's face as she imagined it, eyes swirling with arousal.

"Yes. That's certainly part of it. But it's not the point." Noting the younger woman's eagerness, Marwena shook her head. She knew her friend was often dreaming, unaware of the reality beyond the boundaries of their home. Despite the harshness of living in this village, Anári had lived a rather sheltered life. Marwena had spent a few years travelling the lands of Verenosi, had witnessed the once great kingdom now ravaged with poverty and despair. She'd seen many of the troll caravans that passed through the country, had watched the women who followed them. It was an unforgiving way to earn a living, as tough as surviving off the fruitless land.