Chapter 8: A Plan Gone Wrong

The officer leading the troop of fifty royal guards watched the fat civilian at his side and silently cursed as they marched along the piers of Paras’ harbor. It was just his luck that he was on duty when his Queen had one of her tantrums. He had a very bad feeling about this job, but there was not much he could do.

“When you make that offer to the crew of the ship try to be cautious Saphos. We’re dealing with Norgar and they have very strong attitudes regarding honor. If they feel offended this can become a damn bloody mess,” he warned the Queen’s chosen agent.

“That’s Baron Saphos or Sir to you soldier, and keep your opinion to yourself. Our Queen has chosen me for a reason. Norgar are infantile brutes, but everyone knows the value of gold. The sum the Queen is offering is laughably high. I could buy ten Norgar ships and crews with half of it,” Saphos ridiculed the officer.

The officer silently cursed some more. This was bad, really, really bad.

Finally they reached their destination. A group of Norgar warriors were sitting on crates to the side of the gangplank leading aboard the war-ship. They were playing some kind of dice game, loudly laughing and drinking. When their group was close, one of them stood up and approached. It was a giant of a man, six and a half-foot tall and probably close to three-hundred pounds. The left side of his face was marked by an ugly scar, running from brow to chin. On his back he was carrying a broad double handed sword, as long as an ordinary man was tall.

“This is the ship of our Chieftain, but he isn’t aboard. You’ll have to look for him at your Queen’s palace,” his deep rumbling voice dismissed them.

“We know, but we are here to talk to the captain of this ship,” the officer hastily replied before the civilian agent could utter a word.

The warrior gave them a measuring look and a frown before he yelled for someone aboard the ship. “KJORAK, some fancy soldiers and a fat merchant are asking for you.”

“I am no Merchant! I am Baron Saphos de Mare, agent of her majesty the Queen of Ghota,” the civilian burst out.

“You look like a fat merchant,” the warrior shrugged, clearly unimpressed.

Another warrior came down the planks. He was a few inches shorter and a little older, but looked like a close relative of the warrior in front of them.

“I’m Kjorak, captain of this ship. What do you want?” He asked with a growl.

The Baron straightened his composure before he answered him. “I have a proposal for you I’d like to discuss, but it would be better to speak in private.”

“So my brother was right, you are a fat merchant.” Kjorak snorted. “I’m a warrior, say what you want here and now or leave, I don’t care either way,” he told Saphos, the expression on his face hardening.

The agent was now visibly straining to suppress his temper. “Queen Leandris is offering you one thousand Ghota doubloons -which are gold pieces- to leave Paras,” He was clenching his teeth and hissing his reply.

“Yeah, I know, I’ve come across some of them raiding your coast. That is very generous of your Queen. Tell her my men and I happily accept her offer and will leave tomorrow as soon as my Chieftain and his women are back aboard the ship,” Kjorak answered grinning brightly, which made his face almost look friendly.

Meanwhile about twenty Norgar were watching and listening from the railing of the ship and upon hearing the remark of their captain they were grinning as well.

“You would be paid to leave without them, you imbecile!” Baron Saphos snapped, red-faced and angry.

His notion caused a moment of sudden and eerie silence, and then Kjorak looked at the officer and guards standing behind the agent when he talked.

“We are Norgar, when our Chieftain leaves Kurgath we fight amongst each other for the right to be on his ship. I was lucky, his sister assigned my older brother to choose one of our clan ships, but the crew fought for their place on it. Very few Norgar who have ever fought close to our chieftains have survived and returned to their homes and family, but among the few who have, were the greatest chiefs of our nation. No Norgar chieftain before Urgon had ever died in Kurgath, but every one returned on his ship. We set it on fire and watch it drift away from the harbor of Falkath. The crew never leaves the ship. Now my men and I, two hundred Norgar, will search for our Chieftain, Roban Maghon, until we find him. If we can’t, our brothers will come and search as well. We will find him and he will leave Paras on a Norgar war-ship.”

When he had finished his statement the officer of Ghota’s royal guard watched as Kjorak and every Norgar around drew their weapons. Cursing loudly now, he and his men drew their swords as well. A bit ahead of everyone else, Kjorak’s battle-ax struck between the shoulder and neck of Baron Saphos. He kicked him to free his ax before advancing on the guards and their officer. No one watched as her majesty’s chosen agent fell off the pier. For a while he drifted on the water, before he finally sank.

Athea stood at the entrance to their bedchamber and was watching her brother and Chalissa. Roban was standing behind the kneeling girl and tenderly stroking the side of her hips and waist. In contrast to his tender gesture Chalissa was whimpering in distress and clawing at the sheets. She tried to pull her body forward and away from him and his cock, which was deeply imbedded in her ass. Athea walked up to her brother’s side and watched a moment longer.

“Why are you torturing her? She isn’t enjoying it like Denyssa probably would and you’d never do that to me.” There was no accusation in her voice, Athea was merely curious.

“Isn’t she beautiful; watch how the light from the fireplace reflects in the sheen of sweat on her smooth dark skin,” Roban softly replied ignoring Athea’s question.

A tormented sounding moan from Chalissa interrupted her pitiful whimpering.

“Couldn’t you admire her beauty without torturing her?” Athea asked, amused by her brother’s absent response.

“It may look like torture to you, but actually we are kind of negotiating and trying to find a balance,” Roban replied.

Chalissa had slowly moved her body away from him and only the head of his cock was still inside her. He pulled her as slowly back by the hips until he was once again deeply buried within her ass. Chalissa’s reaction was an exhausted groan and then she was weakly clawing at the sheets of the bed to pull her body forward and away again.

As she watched this a puzzled expression crossed Athea’s face. She climbed on the bed and lay down beside the curled up and sleeping form of Meyra, then she looked into Chalissa’s eyes. Puzzled before, now Athea’s face was expressing even more amazement. She gave Chalissa a kiss and smiled.

“Hassika would probably say you are another deeply disturbed woman and that you are where you belong,” Athea grinning told her, but only got a long drawn moan in response.

The next one moaning was Roban, though not distressed, but deeply satisfied. A moment later Roban and Athea were lying on the bed and looking at each other, the sleeping Chalissa between them.

“I don’t think she is that unusual or strange. Doesn’t everyone want to feel needed and cherished? She was a slave all her life and it’s all she knows. Maybe in time she will learn and change,” Roban mused.

“If she changes you will lose your toy and don’t even try to tell me you did this for her,” Athea replied grinning.

“Maybe, but I’ll always have my loving little sister,” Roban returned grinning too.

“Loving and caring, but I won’t crawl and whimper for you. You’ve an uppity Slave-Goddess and I’m sure she would love to take on that role,” Athea suggested mirthfully.

She didn’t get an answer as suddenly Roban sat up and frowned. He was listening intently, but to whom or what she didn’t know. The next moment he grabbed his clothes and hastily dressed.

“They are fighting. Warriors are dying in the streets of Paras. I need to go and until I’m back no one is allowed to enter our quarters. Get the girls and stay together,” Roban ordered and then he was gone.

Athea woke up Meyra and Chalissa and they drowsily, but obediently, followed her to the next room where she found Ynerca, Rhabina and Denyssa peacefully sleeping. Hassika was dressed already and filling a quiver with a stack of arrows.

“Roban told me there is a fight. Leave Chalissa and Meyra here, I’ll wake the sleeping beauties and then we’ll follow you. Go get the Princess and her maids. Menja is at the door with Bosko,” Hassika told her.

Athea left the room and her eyes widened when she saw Iane and her maids coming out of a room down the corridor. Patessa and Nigulla were nude as always, but each girl was armed with two short, thin, slightly curved and very sharp looking blades. Iane was armed with a staff, a foot long blade on both ends. Her transformation was more substantial than that though. Her curly light-blond hair was bound into a tight pony-tail and the usual flawlessly elegant Iane was covered from neck to toe in a simple black wrap with sheaths holding small knives in various places on it. This wasn’t the Princess from Erylaness Athea was accustomed to and Iane had noticed her gaze. Coming closer she spun the staff in her hands with practiced ease. With the snootiest expression ever to be seen on her face she said, “I broke a nail and someone will have to pay for it.”

Laughing Athea walked farther down the corridor, Iane and her maids following her. At the entrance to their quarters they found Menja and Bosko. The huge dog was sitting on his haunches and Menja was curled up and sleeping between his paws. Athea knelt at her side and carefully took a long knife out of her hands.

Bosko’s growl made Athea turn around and see a group of about twenty guards marching towards them.

Roban rushed through the palace. It didn’t look like news of a fight had arrived and no one tried to stop him as he left. He ran through the garden and as he reached the gate he watched a group of soldiers excitedly talking. He caught snippets of their discussion; Norgar raiders were attacking Paras and they were about to close the gate and pull up the draw-bridge to the palace.

The queen’s palace was built on a hill overlooking the town and Roban could see a few fires between the harbor and the center of the town. A smile appeared on his face as he took in a deep breath and listened to the wind; the smell of burning houses, fighting, screams from pain, warriors dying or already dead. They didn’t know they were calling for him, but he could hear them and would answer their call. It was the beast that ran down the road into the town and Roban was happy he could rest for a while and enjoy the show.

The royal guards had drawn their weapons, but they weren’t prepared for the attack from Kjorak and his men. Ghota was a peaceful island nation and none of the guards had ever fought in a war. The Norgar didn’t fight like they did in their practice-lessons and crashed into them like an avalanche. Their raw power squelched the guards’ defense before they could even form one. It was bad, really, really bad.

The Norgar had passed the gate between harbor and town without meeting much resistance.

“It’s dark; we need some light to find our way to the palace” Kjorak said and threw the torch he carried on the roof of a house by the road. Grinning some of the men followed his example.

Reaching the center of the town the Norgar finally met resistance. About three hundred town guards had gathered at the market place and more were streaming in from every direction. Kjorak had a grim smile on his face when he attacked. He knew this would be the place where their search for their Chieftain would end. It was a good place, their brethren would find it and know they had died fighting. His family, his clan and his brother Ognar, his chief, would live in pride of his death.

Roban had reached a slight rise overlooking the market place. About a hundred Norgar warriors from the ship were surrounded by close to thousand town guards and regular soldiers of Ghota’s army. The fight wasn’t fair, it was so close, but only the Norgar could feel it and even they were just waiting for it. The climax of life. Maybe they needed a sign to make them aware. Roban looked around. He saw a tree close to a burning house had caught fire and would have to do. He felled the tree with two hits from his ax and then he launched it into the night-sky.

Watching the burning tree’s flight through the night Roban remembered that once his father had told him about some magic toys they had captured on a raid. Set on fire they shot to the sky and exploded into colors. His father had told him they had burned all of them to celebrate his birth. Roban remembered how sad he was when he heard it; he also wanted to see the sky lighting up in colors. Well, maybe one day he would, he thought as he watched the tree coming down in an arc and crashing into a group of soldiers. It seemingly exploded among them.

The group hit by the burning tree wasn’t the only one surprised by it. All fighting stopped. Guards, soldiers and Norgar watched the sky to see if more burning trees would come down on them. There were none, but the sudden silence was broken by a war-cry of such intensity that not only their ears were ringing from the noise, but every sense was bombarded by sensations. They watched stunned, as a black shadow rushed down from the road which led to the royal palace. Like the burning tree before, the shadow exploded in a group of Ghota’s soldiers, sending body’s and limbs flying and a mist of blood spread out from its impact.

“We were searching for him, but I think our Chieftain had found us,” Kjorak surmised before he screamed his own war-cry and returned to the fight.

Athea watched the royal guards come down the corridor and stopping ten yards away from them and the entrance to their quarters. One of them stepped closer, his face was showing anger but also fear.

“Norgar raiders are attacking Paras. Our Queen orders you to stay in your quarters and she wants to talk to Roban Maghon. Where is he?” The guard asked with a tone of command.

“I told you she is stupid,” Iane dryly remarked.