A Servant of Arubhár 05

********* CHAPTER 10 *********

THE SUN WARMED her skin like a kind embrace, and Anári turned to face it, soaked up every ray. Although cool, the previous night had held no frost, and here, the trees still boasted fall colors. The glow on her cheeks had as much to do with the mild air as giddy excitement. They'd spent another week travelling the roads of Verenosi, and were about to leave the kingdom behind. Soon, they'd be approaching the border, and cross into the homelands of the trolls.

Stretching languidly in her seat on the wagon, Anári studied her surroundings. In the distance, she could make out the looming range of large mountains, but the land they traversed was flat. The gently rolling hills of her home had levelled out, its fields and vast stalky grasslands replaced by dense forests. Moist mosses and ferns shimmered radiantly in the dappled light, clear streams tinkled tranquilly over smooth rocks and under fallen logs. They had just entered another one of the many meadows that intercepted the ancient woods, dark green and rich with lush grass, rioting with wildflowers.

It was beautiful out here and peaceful, the land untouched by human hands since the end of the war. The last inhabited settlement they'd encountered had boasted no more than a few homesteads. And that had been four days ago. There were signs of different times in the many ruins of villages, farms, and even a crumbling stronghold they'd passed, overgrown with vines and weeds. But no citizen of Verenosi cared to return to these lands, where remnants of a bitter war served up daily reminders of a crushing defeat.

To Anári, it seemed almost proper to let nature cleanse the last traces of greed and hatred and the terrible loss on both sides. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would've been like, living so near the border, with two massive armies engaged in terrible battles.

King Marvos had cared less about the welfare of his own people, appropriating homes, farms, even whole towns to serve his fights. Seizing food, livestock, and other valuable assets to supply his armies while his soldiers humiliated and raped. These people would have had as much to fear from their own ruthless king and the forces fighting in Verenosi's name, Anári mused, as from the war itself.

Every now and then, the horses snorted contentedly. The steady beat of their hooves and the sounds of turning wheels played a lulling background melody. It was a wonder how nature recovered, she thought, the once scorched and blood-soaked earth now teeming with beauty and life.

A pair of storks had built a nest into the rotten remains of a siege engine. Raccoons had made a home under a collapsed cart still holding rusted scraps of armor and swords. Shields and debris of catapults littered the ground, barely discernable under blankets of wildflowers. Items that had once taken life now nourished it, provided shelter and playgrounds. Trenches and traps dug into the ground had filled with water, a sanctuary for turtles and frogs. Colorful birds perched on spiked posts driven into the ground, their songs clear and happy.

Anári tried not to bounce in her seat when two troll warriors who accompanied the caravan rode forward. At Dara's nod, they trotted onward, soon disappearing out of view as the road took a gentle turn between the ancient trees ahead.

"They're announcing our approach," Dara told her as she reached down to take a drink of water from her flask. "Our banners are easy to recognize. Still, it doesn't hurt to let the gate know that all is well."

"The gate?"

"You'll see." Dara swallowed another gulp, replaced the flask.

Near bursting with curiosity, Anári forced herself to sit still, to not pester Dara with a hundred questions. Shadow replaced the bright sunlight as they entered the next stretch of forest, the sounds of hooves and wagons muffled by the pine straw and leaf cushioned floor. There was a hushed, revenant atmosphere under the thick canopy that lent the woods an almost magical feel. Squirrels darted up and down thick, sturdy trunks, moths danced in thin beams of light. She saw prints in the mud belonging to various species, a clear sign this place was home to an abundance of wildlife.

Then the road wound its way into another clearing, and Anári's jaw dropped in awe. It was huge, spanning as far as she could see to her right and left in both directions and easily half a mile wide. The same lush, green grass carpeted its ground, rioting with wildflowers and dotted with sheep. But it wasn't the vast expanse of pasture that held her attention.

Wide-eyed, Anári stared in wonder at the massive stone wall that marked the border between the lands. Around forty-foot high and boasting towers at regular intervals, it glistened snow white under the sun. Even from this distance, she could make out the movement of various trolls behind the battlements.

"If there was ever a reminder of the war, that would be it," Dara grumbled next to her. "Gorlor, High King of all troll nations, ordered it erected after King Marvos' defeat. To help defend our lands should humans ever venture to conquer us again." Shifting her weight, she faced Anári. "I guess I should welcome you to our home. Seeing how we've already crossed into troll territories. The grasslands are part of our boundaries. We do not want to encroach on the humans, so the wall's set back to allow for the large clearing and better defense."

With effort, Anári closed her gaping mouth. "Well . . . That should at least put a pause to any further plans of invasion." Then let out a dry laugh. "I'd say it seems a waste of resources and coin, since Verenosi is still ruined. But humans have been known to do dumber things throughout time. Thank you for welcoming me."

Dara shrugged it off. "It's only good manners. And it's not just humans the wall protects against. It now spans all troll nation borders. But with Verenosi vulnerable to attack, other races could easily overtake the kingdom, then venture further. So even here, the wall remains heavily guarded."

Tapping a foot on the carriage floor, Anári pondered it. "Will you encounter trouble, bringing me with you? Or do they make exceptions for servants and slaves?"

"Our borders are open to any race," Dara dismissed her concern. "Anyone is welcome to visit, or make a life within our homelands. The guards are merely looking out for those who might cause trouble. Wagons will be searched to ensure they do not hide a fighting force, however small. And a steady stream of battle-hardened men or women even over the course of a few days or weeks would arouse suspicion. But my caravans are well-known, and entering will go smoothly and easily, don't you fret." She gave Anári's thigh a pat.

Still, nerves fluttered in her belly as Anári studied the gate that was steadily drawing closer. The passage was wide enough for two wagons to pass side by side, and high enough to allow even the tallest troll to walk under it without hunching. Well over thirty feet deep, it was enclosed by not only the wall, but the sides of buildings.

The sound of shod hooves hitting the brick-paver ground echoed around them as they entered the cavernous space. Looking up, Anári saw various portcullises that could be lowered in a moment, in addition to several massive wooden, steel-enforced doors.

Then they were through, and the wagons spread out in a courtyard surrounded by smaller, lower defensive walls. Dara motioned for her to remain seated, then jumped down to greet the approaching guards. As the troll woman had promised, carts were quickly searched, well-wishes and welcomes exchanged. A short while later, they exited the courtyard, and Anári found herself staring in wonder once more.

They had entered a charming town, bustling with trolls of all breeds, humans, even other races. Clean, cobblestone streets wound their way in between delightful stone houses, enchanting gardens, pubs, eateries, and stores. The town had been built right into the woods, and many of the huge old trees had been left standing. Sunny squares alternated with shady spots with benches wrapped around trunks for resting.

Here and there, lovingly tended flowerbeds provided a splash of color next to areas littered with fallen leaves and overgrown with ferns. Market stalls squeezed in between neighboring trees, fallen logs were used as natural displays for crafts and wares. A laugh bubbled from Anári's throat when she saw a vendor climb a latter to hang another colorful birdhouse to a wire strung around an evergreen's rough bark. It looked as if the tree trunk was covered in brightly colored plumage from the base to about halfway up.

Their path circled back around toward the wall, and Anári realized the whole back of it was encased in buildings. Armories, common rooms, and dining halls were located at ground floor, along with living quarters that also encompassed the entire second story. Across a wide span of street, a line of pubs, taverns, and brothels served for the warrior's entertainment.

Dara's caravan drew to a halt in front of a large inn near the wall, and their company dismounted. Stable boys aided the trolls in caring for their horses, carts were pushed into huge barns, doors securely locked.

After grabbing some clothes and her toiletries from her wagon, Anári followed Dara into the inn. A few minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of a comfortable bed, looking out the window of a small but tidy room she'd have to herself. Shaking her head in disbelief, she curled her fingers around the purse of coins in her hand. Dara had handed it to her before they'd parted, with an order to go and enjoy herself. They'd spend the next day here and another night, she'd been told, to give the horses a chance to rest. And the staff of the entire caravan was free to do as they wished.

Unable to resist, Anári stored away her clothes, set her toiletries out in the bathroom, then headed back downstairs. She couldn't wait to start exploring a town so full of life.

*********

FLOWERBOXES IN MANY windowsills, old barrels converted to planters teased more smiles to Anári's lips as she made her way through town. She spent some time browsing hand-painted dishes, mugs, and vases in a shop inside a building of timber frame and white-washed walls. Leather workers, tailors, and a store full of paintings followed next. Her stomach rumbled as she passed a cake and pastry shop.

Delighted, she threw a wink and a grin to a troll of toddler age. Then cooed when she saw her first troll baby. They truly were every bit as adorable as she'd imagined.

It felt wonderful, strolling the streets of a town that prospered. There were butchers and bakers on every corner, and she discovered a multitude of eateries. Every good imaginable seemed to be available here, from items needed for daily life to frivolous and whimsical things meant only for display.

At the market, she inhaled the scents of exotic spices, marveled at the variety laid out in little dishes and bags. Then wrinkled her nose at the drastically different smell of fresh fish that drifted to her nostrils from two stalls down. Further stands boasted a multitude of incense and potpourri, fine silks, and vegetables and fruits. She passed several carts offering cooked dishes, vendors selling soaps, perfumes, expensive rugs. At the end of the market she found an area with pens for livestock and marveled at the variety of breeds. Then laughed in wonder when she saw a pretty little candle maker's shop in a wooden cottage built around a tree.

Stopping at an eatery that served food out of a window, she asked the cook to surprise her. Ended up holding a huge hunk of white bread filled to overflowing with meat carved fresh off a roasting skewer and covered in a delicious, creamy sauce. She grabbed a big glass of cranberry juice to go along with it, then took a seat at one of the small, round outdoor tables.

Even this little side street was busy, she noted as she took a bite, chewed, savored the wonderful flavors. A steady flow of customers entered and exited a barber shop a few buildings down. Troll women with woven baskets under their arms went in and out of a grocer's. A married pair, arm in arm, browsed items displayed in the windows of an artist. The small tavern seemed to draw a sizeable lunch crowd. There were elderly trolls out for a leisurely walk, others came for a chat, to catch up or gossip with neighbors.

A few bites later, Anári huffed out a breath, stared at the enormous portion still remaining of her lunch. Unless she learned to eat like a mountain troll, she'd better start carrying containers to hold her leftover meals. Chuckling, she decided it was an amazing feeling, not having to worry about there being enough to eat. It was hard to believe that two weeks ago, she was scrounging the woods for mushrooms, praying she would find some. Lennor had certainly seen to her never feeling hungry.

Thinking of Lennor made her laugh. If the past weeks were any indication, they'd likely have to add five wagons to the caravan to hold all the food he'd purchase here. Looking forward to what he might cook up in the days to come, she wrapped the waxed paper around the remainder of her meal, finished her juice, then returned the glass.

Overhead, clothes were hung on lines to dry by residents living in the second story of the adjoined buildings. Anári followed the narrow, cobbled street to the center of the town, wanting to see as much as her feet would let her. It ended in another large square, surrounded by covered work spaces for blacksmiths and metal workers of all kinds. There were some who specialized in shoeing horses, others had forges heating materials to repair wagons. More yet dealt with everything from hinges, doorknobs, to artistically wrought gates.

The trolls who manned the spaces were all of different breeds, their bodies equally tough and hardened from years of demanding physical labor. But, apparently, their work did little to tire them out, for they were just as randy as the rest of the males of their species, she noted.

A snicker bubbled from her lips when she saw a troll woman crouched down, servicing a bull's hard cock with her mouth while he continued to hammer a heated piece of metal into shape. A few workshops later, another bull was rutting into the upturned ass of a human woman bent over an anvil.

More of the same arousing sights caught her eyes as she entered another street. A merchant's cock was being sucked while he carried on a conversation with a customer. A braca, servants in tow, haggled over prices to have her husband's needs seen to with a whore. There were some store houses a few streets later, where bulls sated themselves with a couple of females of exotic races.

Then, chuckling, Anári politely declined a brothel matron's offer of a special deal to make use of one of her bulls. That even here bulls were available for coin proved that this town must have a well-off population of human and other races.

Picking a bench carved out a fallen tree trunk, Anári took a seat in the shade, pondered the troll culture. There was no shame associated with the mating act, no shielding their young from the sight. Like any animal, and many other races, trolls simply considered it part of nature. While their offspring didn't mature until around thirty years of age, she'd learned, and wouldn't participate in mating until then, young trolls certainly weren't scarred for life for encountering the act everywhere they went. And why would they be? They were never taught that seeing it might harm their sensibilities, considered it as normal as eating and drinking.

Dara had joked with her one night, wondering why humans made such a big deal out of the basic urge to reproduce. It was a miracle to her that the human species survived at all, she'd jested, with all their silly preconceptions. Sometimes, Anári wondered the same.

It was refreshing and freeing, this open attitude about indulging in physical pleasures. Astonishing, even, coming from female trolls, who didn't have urges or gained any pleasure from the act. Anári decided it was one more thing to add to the list of positive developments she was grateful for since she'd left her home.

The sun was slowly setting by the time she made her way back to the inn. In her palm, she cradled the little carved statue of a cat she'd send back to Marwena with Dara's next caravan. Her friend had always had a fondness for cats. So Anári had purchased the jade carving she'd found in a shop full of trinkets for her as a gift.

After carefully stowing it away, she took a bath, changed her clothes. Then joined other members of the caravan for dinner at the back of the inn, seated at tables around a pretty pond. Torchlight illuminated the paths, reflected golden-orange on the still surface of the water. From time to time, a fish would jump, sending out ripples that made the lily pads look as if they danced under the stars.

Sighing happily, Anári sampled a variety from platters of roast pork, fowl, and beef and heaping bowls of vegetables spread out on their table. The spicy flavor of exotic spices had her reaching for more. The air was comfortably mild, near warm with the bodies of the trolls around her, and she listened to the conversations while she chewed, marveled at the different tastes. The accents were as varied as the dishes, she noted, some fluid, almost musical in style, others more guttural. She even caught snatches of talk in foreign languages as trolls and other races at nearby tables reverted to their native tongues instead of the common language.

Belly full, and relaxed in the company, she accepted the invitation to meet Lennor and some others at the Blue Goat tavern later. Since directions included no more than walking out the inn's front, then continuing straight down the wide road between the wall and next row of buildings until she saw the sign, Anári rose to walk off her dinner. As so often lately, she had eaten way too much. She'd be round as a barrel if this kept up, doing nothing but stuffing her belly and sitting on a wagon.

********* CHAPTER 11 *********

FOLLOWING THE TORCH-LIT walkway around the pond, Anári entered a wooded area. Here, crystal lights illuminated the path just enough to see where she was going. To her left, the occasional building blocked the view of the endless expanse of wall and the living quarters and rooms attached to it. Tethering posts stood in neat rows between the buildings, marking spots to groom, bathe, and tack up horses and beasts of burden.

To her right, various paths branched off, and she could just make out the endless line of small barns they led to. Lit only at the corners by the same crystal lights to not disturb the animals sleeping within, they were near hidden in the darkness of the forest. Anári ventured there must be hundreds of horses to serve as mounts for the troll warriors. And promised to return at light to get a better look.

Fascinated by the comings and goings of said warriors from the brightly lit living quarters and guards' halls, she wandered much farther than she had intended. Boisterous laughter and drunken toasts, and the slap of flesh against flesh that accompanied the rutting of bulls drifted over to where she walked. Numerous female trolls and women of human and other races mingled with the males, working their trade out in the open and in private, by joining the bulls inside of the many rooms.

There must be a tremendous amount of coin to be earned here, Anári mused, with all the warriors and troll workers supporting the army. Pausing now and then to observe this rutting or the next, she made her way further down the path. Then a telltale series of long, low grunts caught her attention.

It came from nearby and was growing closer with each step. Curious, she slowed her pace as a pole barn, open only on her side, came into view. A single lamp on an inside wall cast a meager light over neatly stacked baled hay. And an enormous troll reclining on a lower stack, fist wrapped around his rapidly hardening cock.