The Duchess of Lust Ch. 04

Thank you all for reading the prior installments!

To recap: Duchess Sarya is now in Ravenmark, which is in the midst of a civil war between Garnoc and Lucan, rival claimants to the throne. She has also secured an alliance with Duke Lucan and his second-in-command, captain Neryth. With Neryth's help, the barbarian shaman Ketrik has managed to convince a mercenary company made up of his fellow barbarians to turn against Garnoc and aid Lucan.

With the barbarians now on his side, Lucan begins to make his final move to dethrone Garnoc.

This chapter does move quite briskly to set some pieces in motion for what is to come.

***

Sarya and Lucan rode together at the head of his army. The wind rustled in her hair, causing it to dance like the great banners behind them. To finalize and publicize the alliance, Lucan had ordered his servants to craft a flag of Fellhaven, which flew alongside his own banners.

Time and again her gaze flitted back to those banners, and she held her head high with pride at the symbols of the alliance she had forged. Behind the banners of Ravenmark and Fellhaven were the grisly banners of the barbarian mercenaries: great swathes of hide, and poles adorned with the bones of men and beasts alike.

Lucan's regiments stretched out in a great column: several thousand men, all armed, armored and ready to fight and die for the duke and the new alliance. Alongside the neat lines of Ravenmark soldiers were hundreds of wild, fur-clad barbarian mercenaries. They had just abandoned Lucan's rival Garnoc, and now chanted and howled out their hunger for war and glory as they marched against their former employer.

"Damned glorious sight, eh?" captain Neryth said. Sarya pulled her gaze away from the savage warriors and smiled at the woman, who seemed to be in a better mood than usual. No doubt that had something to do with the way she'd been eyeing up a few of the barbarian mercenaries.

Sarya felt a pang of jealousy at that: though she enjoyed Lucan's attentions in the bedroom, something within her still longed for the savage, uncivilized touch of a barbarian once again.

"Indeed," Sarya said with a smile.

"An even more glorious sight will be Garnoc's head on a pike," Lucan growled, his one good eye glaring out in the distance, towards the larger fortress where Garnoc was making his stand.

But it would not be much of a stand: the scouts had reported that since the mercenaries had abandoned Garnoc's cause, many of his other soldiers were deserting him as well. And since the fort he held was in such disrepair, Sarya doubted he would withstand the larger army for long.

"About that, my lord," Sarya said. "As much as I understand your desire to punish Garnoc for his crimes, it might be best to stay your hand."

His eye narrowed, but he did not tear his glare away from the distant fortress.

"Explain," he said tersely.

"Though he lacks a true claim to the title, he is still viewed as a rightful duke by most of the other dukes and duchesses of the Empire," she said. "Killing him outright might undermine your standing with the other dukes."

"So what do you suggest?"

She was grateful that he valued her opinion, and that he hadn't angrily dismissed her suggestions out of hand.

"Keep him a prisoner, under the watch of trusted guards." She thought for a moment, dwelling on the best way to phrase her ideas to appeal to Lucan's stern sense of justice. "That will be a more fitting punishment for him, after all. To live in a dungeon, and to hear of your triumphs and glories, my lord. He can witness as you restore Ravenmark to its old glory, and he shall burn with jealousy and shame as you accomplish all that he could not."

Lucan's mouth twitched into a brief, small smile.

"You always seem to know what to say, my lady."

"You have your sword, my lord, and I have my words."

Lucan finally tore his eye away from Garnoc's fort to meet her gaze. That intense stare softened, then he nodded.

"Very well. He shall languish in a cell, as a symbol of my mercy, and as a means to punish him."

She smiled; it would certainly be easier to win over the other duchies if Lucan's hands were clean of Garnoc's blood.

"Neryth," Lucan said to the captain. "Take a band of scouts on ahead, flank around to the other side. With his men abandoning him and with those walls being in such a poor state, I expect he'll flee rather than make a stand. If he does retreat, I want you and your men to intercept him."

She nodded and turned her horse away.

"Take him alive, captain," Lucan said, before she could ride off.

"Aye, my lord. Not much glory in killing a foolish, unarmed nobleman, anyway." She then grinned. "But will you object if I take any fancy jewelry he has?"

Lucan and Sarya both chuckled a bit.

"Take anything you want, just not his life. Consider it your prize for capturing him."

Neryth nodded again and spurred her horse away. As she rode, she cried out to several of the lieutenants and lower officers, then guided her horse over towards the front ranks of the barbarian column.

"With luck, we'll have this wrapped up by dusk," Lucan said. "And then after a bit of rest and celebration, we'll begin the march to Fellhaven."

Sarya smiled warmly and reached over, resting her hand on his knee. He raised an eyebrow, for that was the first sign of any affection that either of them had shown in public. To her surprise, he didn't glare or rebuke her.

Instead, his hand reached down, gently settling on her wrist for a moment, before she pulled away.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Thank me when Garnoc is in chains, and when your city is saved, my lady."

"Are you still insisting on telling me what to do, my lord?" she shot back, a faint smile playing across her face.

"Commanding you seems to have been quite enjoyable for the both of us so far. So yes, I will insist."

Her smile turned bright and wicked, then she looked away, lest any of his barons or officers take notice. She squirmed a bit in her saddle, hoping that Garnoc was quickly dealt with, so she and Lucan could begin 'celebrating.'

***

Neryth rode away from Lucan and Sarya, and brought her horse to a halt beside one of the packs of barbarians. Her eyes swept over them, settling briefly on Ketrik. She gave the man a smile and a nod, then looked past him.

Ekwulf and Torvath, the two men she had faced in the duel, walked at the head of a pack of fur-clad warriors. Torvath gave her a nod and a friendly smile, while Ekwulf flashed her a brief, hungry look.

She returned it in kind: she was quite looking forward to following up on her offer to bed them both, once there was time.

"I'm looking for a few brave fools to help me capture Garnoc if he tries to escape," she called out.

Nearly every one of the warriors behind Torvath and Ekwulf raised their weapons and let loose a fearsome shout.

"Right," she laughed, and she steadied her horse, which had bucked and tensed at the sudden roars. "Going to need you all to be a bit more discreet and quiet, though. Can't be giving away our flanking movement with you roaring like beasts."

"As long as we can roar like beasts afterwards," Ekwulf said. She wasn't sure if the fire in his eyes burned for her, or for the prospect of bringing down Garnoc. Perhaps both.

"Yes, afterwards." She turned her horse about, then called out to Lucan's cavalry captains to bring the barbarians fresh mounts.

Once Ekwulf, Torvath and their men were mounted up, Neryth led them away from the column, to join up with the other scouts.

"Saw Ketrik eyeing you up during the march," Torvath said casually, bringing his horse alongside hers. "He going to try to celebrate with you, too?"

She raised an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder, though Ketrik and the rest of the column were fading away in the distance behind her.

"Really?" she asked. The shaman was a handsome man, to be sure, but she hadn't noticed him regarding her in anything but a professional manner.

"Aye," Ekwulf grunted in agreement with his friend. "I've done enough leering at women to recognize it when another man does it."

"Well," she laughed. "The more the merrier, I suppose. Considering you two weren't able to fully defeat me in our duel, I suspect you could use even more help to 'defeat' me in bed."

Torvath chuckled, but Ekwulf's eyes narrowed.

"We had you beat, captain," he protested.

"I still had plenty of tricks up my sleeve, boys," she lied. "Oh, I was bleeding and bruised, but I still could have held out."

Ekwulf snorted with disbelief, then glared ahead at the fortress.

"All the same...it'll be nice to fight with you as a comrade, instead of as an opponent. You were a damned annoying foe," Ekwulf said.

"Wily and clever, I'd say," Torvath added. "Not 'annoying.'"

"Wily and clever and annoying, then," Ekwulf grumbled.

"Well, as long as you boys behave yourselves and stick with Lucan, you won't have to worry about me annoying you in battle again, eh?" She reached out and slapped Ekwulf's knee, then spurred her horse onwards.

The mounted band looped around, far to the west, using some rolling hills as cover from any watchful eyes on the walls of Garnoc's fortress. They passed by a few farms that had been burned and looted by Garnoc's men during the early days of the war. The sight soured her mood, and a glare remained on her face for the rest of the ride.

They rode on for another hour, moving far to the opposite side of the fortress. They came to a stop within the burned grounds of a winery, then dismounted.

Neryth clambered up the ashen remains of the winery's central building, for a better view of Garnoc's fortress. Ekwulf and Torvath followed, while the other men remained down below to water the horses and ready their weapons.

"So now what?" Ekwulf asked.

Neryth ignored him for the moment and brought a spyglass up to examine Garnoc's position.

The camps around the fort had been abandoned by the barbarian mercenaries, who had slipped away the night before. Dogs picked through what remained, scrounging for scraps. A handful of soldiers watched from the walls, and the mounted patrols from the night before were gone.

From what she could tell, only a few dozen men were on guard upon the walls. It was as if Garnoc's force had melted away entirely in the middle of the night.

"Now we wait, and hope he scampers away, right into our grasp once Duke Lucan's army deploys for an assault," she said.

"Are you sure we need him alive?" Torvath asked. "Slaying a duke would be quite the glorious feat..."

"Have you met him?" she asked. "He's a sniveling coward of a man. Not much glory in that."

"No, but you southerners place great meaning in such titles. Which means there is glory in his death."

"There might be glory in it, but there will be more gold for his capture. More gold, and more approval from Duke Lucan. Understand?"

"Glory means more than gold," Ekwulf grunted.

She rolled her eyes.

"How about this, then..." she lowered her spyglass and rested a hand on Ekwulf's hip. "You do as you are told and help me take him alive, and I'll reward you with more than just one night of celebration."

His glare turned to a bright, almost boyish grin.

"Deal."

"And what about me?" Torvath asked, sounding a bit dejected, but she wasn't sure if it was feigned or genuine. She laughed and patted his cheek.

"You too, my friend. You too."

She raised the spyglass and looked back towards the fortress, and let out a chuckle of amusement and derision as a few of Garnoc's men lowered ropes down over the walls, to scamper away and desert the false duke.

"Shall we hunt them?" Ekwulf asked.

"No use. Let them run. We aren't after common soldiers, just Garnoc."

They waited in silence for several minutes, and she turned her gaze further away from the fort, to the hills on the far side of the valley. She spotted the first of Lucan's scouts come over the ridge, then looked back to the fort.

With the rightful duke's forces now coming into view, she was sure Garnoc's men would begin deserting even faster.

She was proven right within minutes. The gate swung open, and a dozen bedraggled soldiers came riding out, racing towards the south as they deserted their duke. Others rode out, bearing white flags and veering towards Lucan's lines to throw themselves at his mercy. She knew that as long as such men hadn't been complicit in the slaughters and raids, they'd have nothing to fear.

"Mount up," she hissed. "He could be coming out any moment now."

Ekwulf and Torvath scampered back down towards the horses, growling at the others to prepare themselves. Neryth stayed up in the ruined building, keeping watch over the rear gate of the fort.

"Come on," she grumbled, hoping that he'd flee. If he did make a stand within the fort, Garnoc would certainly lose, but dozens of men could die in the assault: an assault that Lucan would no doubt ask her to lead. She'd much rather have a quick, nasty skirmish on the road than a bloody frontal attack on a castle.

Neryth whooped with delight as a dozen riders appeared at the gate. Mounted on a tall white stallion was a portly man with a grey-streaked beard and long, luxurious black hair. He was finely dressed, and still wore the silver crown of a duke.

She'd last seen him at a failed parley, when he'd insulted Lucan and sworn to behead him.

"Should have been more polite," she mumbled. Lucan had vowed to let the man even keep some lands, if he just gave up the title, but Garnoc had refused. And now his 'lands' would be reduced to a cell in the dungeons.

She turned and bounded down the ashen stairs, and practically leaped into the saddle.

"He's leaving," she barked at the men. "Follow! Remember, we need him alive!"

"And the men he has with him?" one of Lucan's knights asked.

"Give them a chance to lay down their arms, but if they resist, cut them down."

Neryth guessed that such bodyguards were likely trusted by Garnoc, and thus were as foul and nasty as him. Some of them had likely taken part in the brutal raids on civilians of the past few weeks.

"So we've a chance for blood and glory after all, then," Ekwulf said with a hungry grin. He reached over his back, collecting a javelin, while Torvath pulled a throwing axe from his belt.

Neryth spurred her horse on ahead, one hand gripping the reins, the other drawing her sword. The silvery hilt gleamed in the sunlight, and she held it high.

There was no sense in being sneaky or subtle now: the bigger and fiercer an appearance they made, the more likely Garnoc's men would be to surrender.

Neryth and her followers crested a hill and charged down towards Garnoc and his bodyguards. Horses neighed in panic, and one of Garnoc's riders turned and rode quickly towards the north, abandoning his lord.

"Lay down your arms!" she roared over the shouts of the shocked soldiers. "Surrender and be spared!"

"No!" Garnoc shrieked, his voice shaky and shrill. "Fight for your rightful duke!"

Another two men broke and fled, while others went for their weapons. Ekwulf struck first, flinging his javelin with incredible strength. The spear flew through the air and took one of the bodyguards in the chest, sending him flying from the saddle. Not to be outdone, Torvath roared and flung one of his hatchets. It spun, then shattered into the helmet of another bodyguard. Blood sprayed, the man toppled, and his horse cantered away.

One of Garnoc's knights let out a war cry and charged, readying a lance. Neryth braced herself and rode to meet him, and as the lance darted low, towards her horse's neck, she tugged the reins to the side, pulling her horse away just in time. Her sword slashed down, tearing the lance in twain, then swung up to slash the man across the chest. Screaming, he tumbled to the side, his foot caught in the stirrup as his horse fled.

The fight was bloody, short and brutal. Outnumbered, surprised and demoralized by the sudden desertions, Garnoc's knights did not put up much of a fight. A few more died, while others fled, and the handful of survivors threw down their weapons.

The barbarians whooped and chanted and moved about in a circle around the prisoners, glaring and growling, while Lucan's knights dismounted to collect the dropped swords.

Garnoc was the only one to keep hold of his weapon: a fancy rapier that would have been more fitting in a museum than a battlefield. He snarled down at his men, but fear still shone in his beady eyes.

"Cowards!" he hissed at his guards. "Fight! Fight for your duke!"

"Show them a bit of respect," Neryth drawled. "They've already fought for you far longer than you deserve."

She gestured at him with her bloody blade.

"Drop the sword, or I'll ride over there and chop off your fucking hand."

"You wouldn't dare! I am the true duke of Ravenmark, and I shall not be spoken to in such a manner! Especially not by a whore such as-"

Something hissed through the air. Neryth's eyes widened at the sight of another Torvath's axes; it spun and sliced into Garnoc's wrist, digging deep. His rage turned to agony as blood leaked from the wound. He let out a pitiful howl and dropped his rapier.

Her eyes flashed with anger for a moment, but the wound likely wouldn't kill the man. Ketrik could get that wound patched up in no time.

She guided her horse closer, then reached out and tore the axe from his hand. He whimpered, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Before he could slump out of the saddle entirely, some of Lucan's men reached up to steady him, then guided him towards the ground.

"Well done," she said with a nod of approval, and wiped the blood from her blade. She handed Torvath his axe. "Now let's get these prisoners back to the duke."

"And then the celebrations?" Ekwulf asked hungrily, as he yanked his javelin from the chest of his victim.

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"If you behave yourself."

"Where's the fun in that?"

***

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity, turning into a blur before Sarya's eyes. Neryth and the scouts had returned, bearing a chained Garnoc and several of his lieutenants. Lucan had not even granted his rival a moment to speak with him, and had ordered him locked into the dungeons beneath his own fort.

Lucan's force had moved in to secure the castle, taking custody of the supplies and the handful of soldiers who had stayed behind, and emptying the dungeons of the various merchants and petty nobles whom Garnoc had imprisoned.

The tension had vanished entirely. Gone were the worries about a bloody assault or a long siege, and the grim mood was replaced by one of jubilation. The soldiers spread out throughout the fortress, as if intent on turning it into a carnival ground.

Garnoc's stores of wine were dragged up into the courtyard and opened for all to sample, while Lucan gave his men leave to loot and ransack Garnoc's private collection of trinkets and fineries.

Sarya stood atop one of the walls, smiling down at the proceedings. Lucan's men had piled together the flags and wooden spear-shafts of Garnoc's loyalists, and had set the piles ablaze as a bonfires. Meat roasted on spits, and the wine flowed freely, as barbarians and men of Ravenmark drank and sang together.

Not long ago, the mercenaries and the knights had been enemies, but Sarya had brought them together.

She smiled with pride, but also at the prospect of such a celebration occurring at Fellhaven, once the city and her people were saved.

"Damned fine day," Ketrik's voice grunted from behind her as he ascended the stairs to the walls. He bore in his hand two cups of wine, one of which he handed over.

"Indeed it is," she said, accepting the cup with a grateful smile. She took a sip and sighed; the wine was a bitter and stale, but she was too jubilant to complain about the taste.