Kyra and the Swordstress Pt. 05

Dear reader, I am pleased to present to you chapter 9 of my story Kyra and the Swordstress. I'm sorry for being so slow, but life has a tendency of getting in the way of writing :(

Thank you so much for your patience. The entire story is more or less plotted out, and several parts have already been drafted. I am committed to completing this story, which is turning out to be quite a novel, so please stay tuned!

I hope you enjoy part 5 of Kyra and Swordstress.

Nota bene, this part is completely non-erotic.

It was hot, and there was plenty of backbreaking work, but Scarlet didn't mind it. It was better than the normal routine of performing backbreaking work in the castle. The colors of the forest and the hills blushed like gem-reflected light, and songbirds sang sunny songs from the wind-rustled boughs of the oak and chestnut trees.

A team of men from the stables were hacking away at a dead boar strung up from a stout branch of an oak tree, quartering it into pieces in preparation for a feast that evening. A large bucket beneath the boar collected the deep-red effluence. Scarlet watched the butchering with fascination as she scrubbed dirt and mud from leather riding boots.

"Slave girl, go fetch us water!"

The man who spoke was none other than Prince Albrech, son of the Grand Duke of Varna, and nephew of Archduke Eldan Turracher, Scarlet's master, the host of today's hunt. Prince Albrech was the one who had killed the boar. He now lounged with his entourage in the shade of an oak tree, plowing through an octave cask of red wine. Scarlet stood to rapt but nervous attention.

"Y-yes sir!"

Frantically, she started off, but stopped abruptly, realizing she did not know where to fetch the water.

"Um... sorry sir, but may I ask where from?"

This was her first time accompanying her lord's hunting party, so it was her first time in the Turracher estate hunting grounds, a vast area of which she was unfamiliar.

"Ugh," scoffed the prince. "Why don't you figure it out?"

"Yes sir," said Scarlet, and she grabbed two pales and hurried off.

"Slave! The river is that way!" Prince Albrech shouted, pointing in the direction of the forest.

Scarlet skidded to a halt and with her head apologetically bowed, ran to where he pointed, appearing no more the wiser as to where she might find fresh water. As she ran past them, the prince's entourage exchanged lewd jokes at her expense. Whistles and catcalls came after her from the group. She kept her head bowed and did her best to keep her eyes averted from the men. Instead, she glanced in the direction of the stablemen quartering the boar and caught the eye of one of the more elderly among them, a man she knew as Marcus. A man with many scars on his patinaed steel-corded body. Scars from his arena days. His eyes were glaring, so she turned her eyes back to the ground and ran more quickly. She must have done something wrong to draw such a glare. Grabbed too much attention from Prince Albrech's royal knights, perhaps. But she didn't ask for attention. Nor did she want it.

The farther away Scarlet went from the camp and those men with their gawking eyes, the more she relaxed. These woods were a pleasant place. The oak trees sprawled, and the sun came through the spreading leafy awnings to kiss the mossy floor with warm golden rays. The distant cuckoo birds sang to reassure her that this was a friendly place. So, she slowed her pace to enjoy the scenery, the cool feel of the breeze that rustled through the leaves and branches, and the loamy fragrance of the leaves-strewn dirt and moss. She would love nothing more than to stroll all day, but it was not her place to do so. She could only linger a bit before they would surely be cross with her, and before long, she heard trickling water. She followed the sound to the river from where she would fetch the water for the prince and his men.

Sunshine sparkled on the flowing water, and the shimmering reflections danced upon the trees along the riverbanks. The river was an awful temptation to her. She yearned to jump in and wash the sweat, grime, and summer heat off her body. But she resisted the temptation. She wouldn't dare stop for a bath. But perhaps, just a dip of her toes in the river while she collected the water? Surely there was time to cool her feet.

She glanced left and right over her shoulders before stepping out of her shoes. First, she dipped a big toe into the water and shivered with delight at the chill. Then she submerged a whole bare foot, sinking her foot into the carpet of smooth pebbles. Then she put her other foot in, sighing as the coolness spidered up her body. She stood there for a long while with her eyes closed, feeling the warm sunlight dance upon her face, feeling the river flow around her ankles, and feeling her feet grow numb from the icy water. She didn't want to go back to the castle. She wanted to be here forever. She sat, placed the two pales beside her, dipped her hands into the water, took them out when they were numb from the cold, and touched them to her face. She then cupped water into her hands and splashed it against her face. The feel of water against skin. How wonderful it was. How wonderfully like home it felt.

Just as she was on the cusp of returning to her task, picking up one pale to fill it with water, there came a snapping of twigs and a rustling of the elderberry bush behind her. She let out a yelp of terror and jumped to her feet, nearly falling over into the river, believing that a raging boar was upon her. Instead, two of Prince Albrech's knights stepped out from the brush.

"There's our little flower!" one of the knights exclaimed. "Just as we suspected."

"Indeed, my good lieutenant."

Scarlet, shaken by the presence of these two men as much as she might be by a raging boar, stammered, "Sorry! Sorry! I was just -- I just..."

The lieutenant held up a calming hand and chuckled. "Easy there, lass. It's quite alright. We're not here to get you in trouble. We were just worried about you going off into the woods without an escort is all, isn't that right, captain?"

To which the captain replied, "Aye. Wouldn't want any harm coming to you. We're Golden Kestrels, you see? Sworn to protect the innocent."

Despite their soft voices and their smiles, Scarlet knew better. She'd heard enough about these men to know she shouldn't let her guard down.

"I'll just be a moment to fill my buckets, and I'll be on my way," she responded.

"No need to hurry, lass. It's quite a sweltering day. We know very well what was tempting you. Now, a pleasant dip in the water sounds like a fine idea, doesn't it?"

Scarlet's eyes darted nervously from one knight to the other. Both were at least twice her size, both carried swords that glinted menacingly in the sunlight. 'Don't run,' Scarlet thought to herself. 'Running always results in punishment.'

She nodded her head cautiously.

"Why not take a lil' dip, sweetheart? Your uncles Baldric and Lothar will be right here."

"I-I really should take the water back to camp," Scarlet said.

"You really should just relax little one. Go on, take off your clothes, and have a swim. It won't bother us none."

Scarlet stayed rigid. The knight named Baldric walked towards her. He approached her as one might approach a bothered horse, coming close enough for Scarlet to feel the heat coming off his body, and his hungered breathing on her face. He knelt down to put his face level with hers. His eyes flitted across her face.

"Allow me to help you, little dove," he said.

She averted her eyes to her feet, which had sunk deeper into the riverbed pebbles. She focused on the smoothness of the pebbles. Little stones of many colors. Polished by the river over many years. They were like the pebbles on the beaches back home in Myssea. Only those ones were smoothed by the ocean rather than a river. She recalled her mother once saying that with enough time, the ocean waves would smooth those pebbles into sand. She wondered how those pebbles were doing now. How close to sand they might be now. Then she wondered how long it would take for river pebbles to be smoothed down to sand. Such a funny thing to think about at this very moment. A moment where there were more pressing issues to worry about -- like getting the water back to camp.

"I really should return with the water," Scarlet murmured, more softly this time.

The knight's breathing became heavier. He smelt of damp onions. She hated that he breathed on her like this. But she was powerless to do anything about it. She was afraid she'd be punished for insubordination if she stepped away or even turned away.

But then came a voice like a deep rumbling of thunder from behind the knights, causing Baldric's hand to quickly retract from Scarlet's shoulder.

"Show reverence to the meek and vulnerable," said the voice.

Scarlet's eyes shot up from her pebble-covered feet. The knights swiveled around and clutched their swords.

Marcus emerged from the bushes. He rested one hand on the head of a wood-chopping axe in his belt. He leaned against a tall quarterstaff.

"That is a principal tenet of the Order of the Golden Kestrel, is it not?" he asked.

The knights chuckled, relaxed their guards.

"If it isn't ol' Marcus Gryphon-Heart. Champion of the Varna Arena," bellowed Baldric. He stuck the sharp end of his claymore into the dirt and rested his hands on the pommel. "We are humbled to be in your presence."

Marcus ignored the facetiously spoken superlative, instead responding, "let the girl carry the water back to the camp."

"Old man, why don't you bugger off to collect your firewood? Our business with the girl does not concern you."

"I will not leave unless she leaves with me," he replied. "With pales full of water."

Baldric chuckled and shook his head. He unstuck his claymore from the dirt.

"I do not believe you understand me, so allow me to be perfectly clear. Leave and let us enjoy our noble rights."

"The girl comes with me," Marcus reiterated firmly.

Baldric's face grew taut with seething impatience. He gave Lothar a nod. Lothar began a slow prowl around Marcus's flank.

Scarlet interrupted the tense silence with a fretful whimper, fearful of the violence that loomed with as much certainty as a storm in a thundercloud. Baldric turned to her and said,

"Don't worry, flower, we will get to you as soon as we deal with this one."

Marcus maintained a stoic stillness. His eyes went from Lothar, who approached him from the rear to Baldric, who approached him from the front. They prowled around him like wolves around a prey animal looking for a weakness.

"You may have been a great gladiator once, Marcus. Now you are nothing more than a stable boy. We ought to put you back in your place," Baldric said.

As he spoke, Lothar, who stood directly behind Marcus, raised his sword to strike the top of Marcus's skull with the pommel.

"Look out!" Scarlet shrieked.

In a flash, Marcus brought his quarterstaff up to harshly jab the butt of it into Lothar's gut. Lothar doubled over and grunted in pain. Without pause, Marcus jabbed the other end of the quarterstaff directly into the chest of Baldric, who had charged his front. Baldric coughed and heaved as he stumbled backward.

Marcus pressed the end of his quarterstaff at the knight captain's neck.

"The girl comes with me," Marcus repeated.

Baldric snarled at him, "you strike a Golden Kestrel at pain of death!"

He knocked the quarterstaff away from his throat and swung his claymore at Marcus's chest. Marcus hopped a step back. Baldric and Lothar both charged together with their swords. With a speed unbecoming his age, Marcus weaved around the incoming blades and, as he did so, pulled out the axe that hung in his sash. He locked the axe head into the V-shaped guard of Lothar's sword and pulled harshly to yank the sword out of the knight's grip. Then with a kick, he pushed Lothar to the ground. The claymore went flying into the river.

Baldric, who had sought to thrust his sword into Marcus's torso, missed, and stumbled. Marcus squared off against Baldric with his axe. Baldric swiveled around and raised his claymore. His face was red with rage.

"I shall revel in killing the champion of the Varna Arena!" Baldric said, as he launched into another charge against Marcus.

Marcus closed without hesitation, with immense purpose in his movement, swiftly stepping to the side of the blade, swinging the axe close, and low to the knight's gut.

The sword missed its mark. The axe did not. The axe blade sunk into Baldric's gut. Marcus pulled it out, then slashed the blade across Baldric's throat.

The sword clattered to the ground. The knight captain collapsed to his knees. Blood frothed from his mouth and gushed out the deep cut in his throat as he gaped for air.

Marcus stood over the knight, said, "perhaps if you had devoted more of your time to the martial arts, and less to the enjoyment of your noble rights, you might have survived this day."

Life flickered from the Knight Captain's eyes as he fell one last time to the dirt. His blood pooled out from his body.

Lothar scrambled to his feet and fled back to the camp. "Help!" He screamed. "Help! I need help!"

Marcus went to Scarlet. He knelt before her and inspected her for injury.

"Are you alright, child?"

Still dazed, all Scarlet could do was nod. Marcus adjusted Scarlet's shirt and gave her a pitying smile.

"You are at an age now that draws wicked deeds from misbegotten men. Such is your unfortunate lot."

Hurried footsteps and shouts of clamor echoed through the forest from the direction of the hunting camp. Men came with their swords ready. First came the ones on horseback, then the ones on foot. Men who wore the Golden Kestrel surcoat, those who wore the duke's coat of arms, and the duke himself.

Scarlet drew close to Marcus as that was where she felt most safe. She reached for his hand. He took it in his and gave a reassuring squeeze.

Prince Albrech arrived and pushed through the crowded men; his eyes filled with crazed panic. "Baldric!" He shouted. He bolted into a run to fall next to the body, clutched it fanatically, and wept.

"They killed Sir Baldric!"

"What is the meaning of this?" yelled archduke Eldan from atop his tall, black mare.

Murmuring grew in the crowd. The men tightened their circle. Lothar squeezed his way to the center and pointed an accusing finger at Marcus. "That slave killed him!"

Duke Eldan's horse stamped its feet and let out an anxious whinny. The duke tightened his grip on the reins.

"Is it true, Marcus?" the duke asked grimly. Marcus stepped in front of Scarlet to hide her from view. He stood tall and responded,

"Aye, it's true," then tossed his bloodied axe onto the ground to show the undeniable evidence.

"I defeated the knight captain of the Golden Kestrel and his lieutenant both in combat."

All heads turned to Lothar, who, with a face crimson with embarrassment, shouted,

"He ambushed us! It was not a fair fight!"

Marcus said nothing to rebut the claim, causing Scarlet's stomach to twist into a knot. It wasn't true. She saw exactly how it all transpired. She saw nothing of an ambush. Yet it was as the knight suggested, an unfair fight, only against Marcus and not the knights. The overwhelming injustice of it all caused Scarlet to speak up.

"They were going to hurt me! Marcus protected me!"

Lothar scoffed. "The slave girl does not know of what she speaks. He then turned to Prince Albrech and spoke directly to him: "I swear it, he ambushed us. He came out of nowhere with his axe. A rabid madman he is!"

Duke Eldan stepped down from his horse and gently touched the mare's muzzle as he went to where Prince Albrech sobbed over Captain Baldric's body. He crossed his arms and observed the body with an objective, studious silence.

The duke was a tall, foreboding man, his hair straight and gold, typical of the Turracher family, his eyes black as coal, and his skin pale as if without blood. If one were to assume that his nature was as stone-cold as his appearance, they would not be far from the mark. Duke Eldan was a man wrought with iron-strong integrity and steadfast morals. Only the Goddess of Death, they say, delivers judgment as coldly as he.

"He killed a member of the Golden Kestrel!" Prince Albrech screamed. The crowd became silent. Even the birds became silent as the prince's frothed scream echoed through the woods.

"Indeed, he has," Duke Eldan replied coolly, his face still stern.

"Then a befitting punishment must be had. A swift execution is in order."

The duke seemed not to acknowledge Prince Albrech, or, at least, his face remained expressionless, and his posture remained unmoved. Instead, he turned to Lothar and asked in a measured and clear voice,

"What were you and Captain Baldric doing with a slave girl in the woods?"

Lothar moved his mouth to answer, but no sound came out at first. He swallowed, his eyes darting around the staring crowd, as if looking frantically for the correct answer, finally responding, stammering, "she... she took too long to fetch the water from the river, so we went to see if she was safe."

"That's a lie," Scarlet responded. Her heart jumped spritefully at the boldness with which she delivered the repudiation. She covered her mouth and cowered slightly behind Marcus before the duke's narrowing eyes, but otherwise stood her ground, knowing that the truth in her words were important to the Iife of the man that protected her. "They had other intentions with me," she said.

"Quiet you little whore!" screamed Prince Albrech.

Unperturbed, Duke Eldan motioned for Marcus to stand aside for him to see Scarlet. Marcus stood aside.

"What's your name, child?" the duke asked gently.

"Scarlet."

"Scarlet. Tell me what happened as you saw it."

Her eyes went from the rage-quivering Prince Albrech to the pale Lothar, to Baldric's blood-sheened body, to Marcus, who remained as stoic as ever, then back to the duke, who waited for her answer with the patience of an owl. Finally, and in a hushed voice, she responded,

"I was fetching water when the two knights came upon me..."

She hesitated. She tightened up. Not because she was traumatized but because she knew the importance of what she was about to say to the life of the man who saved her. She wanted to be careful with her words and impart in them most believable truth that she, a slave girl could possibly convey.

"Speak girl," Duke Eldan said steadily.

"They intended to have their way with me until he showed up. He offered them a peaceful accord. He offered to escort me safely back to camp. They refused and in return offered violence. He agreed to that violence and fought them, and, yes, he killed Captain Baldric, but it was not he but they who invited combat!"

That answer roused anger again from Prince Albrech. He howled much like a wolf with a foot caught in a snare. Lothar opened his mouth to protest, but Duke Eldan preempted this with a raising of a quieting hand in his direction. Murmurs and grumblings came from the crowd. Scarlet could not hear what the others said, but she was sure that the Golden Kestrels were immediately dismissive, while the other knights, the duke's knights, that had gathered, seemed receptive to what she had to say. Duke Eldan turned to Marcus.

"Is what the girl says true?" he asked.

Marcus nodded. "Aye, my lord."

The prince stood abruptly and snapped, "uncle, don't tell me you would take the word of slaves over a Golden Kestrel!"

Duke Eldan did not answer his nephew immediately. He shut his eyes, breathed out a long sigh, then said,

"There was once a time when the Order of the Golden Kestrel were unequivocal in their honor, unhesitant in their service to the downtrodden, and feared for their skill with the blade. Today we see what your order has become -- a shadow of its true and former self. Clumsy in combat and dishonest in demeanor."