theft of the torturers bride....a son of conan yarn
Aug 22, 2023 1:10:18 GMT -5
Post by themirrorthief on Aug 22, 2023 1:10:18 GMT -5
Beneath a wealth of brightly lighted stars a lone horseman galloped. The rugged Nemedian landscape was troublesome but his mount was sure footed and agile. Then suddenly the rider reigned in the horse at the peak of a steep ridge. Below the lights of a fair sized city gleamed and blinked against the late evening darkness. The rider was fair haired, his long locks reflecting the illumation of the stars.
"Who's there, show yourself for I find spies much to my dislike." The warrior, for he carried a long broadsword in a leather sheath, made a motion towards the hilt of the deadly weapon.
"Stay your hand proud one, here I am."
The voice was feminine but not altogether soft. However, it did carry a hint of cultured refinement in its tone. A dark clad, hooded figure drifted slowy from a shadowy copse and nodded. The warrior steadied his mount which pawed at the groud and shook its noble head nervously. "Steady my boy, there is nothing to fear." The man was not certain of his own claim but the mount calmed a little.
"I come with a warning for you my friend," the mysterious entity said. "Ride clear of yon city below or trouble may fall upon your fair head young sir."
"I have been riding for two days. I only seek a bed and something to quench my thirst. I plan no adventures here, other than perhaps an adventure in the arms of some willing wench. Who sends you with this "warning", speak to me."
"I know nothing of what awaits you young man, I only bring the warning. Perhaps it would best if you consider carefully and take heed. Another day's ride to the next town will surely not kill one with your strength and endurance, to say nothing of your wonderful steed."
"Perhaps I should thank you but its just as likely you have rogues that await me on the road beyond. I am not an especially learned man but I do know there is risk with every undertaking and all choices must have consequences so I bade you goodnight witch, or whatever you be."
The shadowy figure bowed silently and the warrior spurred his horse onward towards the town without even a glance over his shoulder. He was not a man given to deep calculations and his vision was blurred by the thought of a bottle somewhere below. And perhaps tender female flesh.
The quiet and ancient Nemedian castle might have been called scenic by some. It is doubltful any locals felt that way. The slightly crumbling old fortress had fallen to Klasson, the chief torturer of a powerful Nemedian count. Little note was taken of the ivy spiraling about the old towers and battlements. No one commented about the stately oaks that surrounded the grounds. Only a few wayward ducks were inclined to visit the nearby pond. Wildflowers grew here and there and rose bushes occasionally sprouted their aromatic buds the same as they had dozens of years in the past, when they had been well tended.
A farmer lived on a mostly barren hillside within walking distance of Klasson Castle had it had lately been called. He raised scant crops save for one, he had a number of pretty daughters and no sons. Hard times and hunger often visited this erstwhile fellow. In desperation he had taken a few coins for the prettiest daughter of the lot. Her named was Ivena, and Klasson planned to make her wife when more pressing business slowed sufficently. For the time being the unseemly official satisfied himself with leering across the dinner table at the delectable morsel his lips would soon be tasting.
Ivena had moved to Klasson Castle, though she would rather have killed herself, were she not so young and desperate to experience something of life. Klasson the torturer was squat and bald, hairy and completely lacking in grace. His blackened teeth and the one eye that wandered rather to the right added little to his charm. In short his vile appearance matched his dark heart to near perfection. However, he made the show of being pious and desired a marriage bond before bedding the comely wench he had so recently obtained.
Ivena spent her time at the window in her quarters. She had ample view from her lofty perch and she stared wistfully out at the road. If only she could somehow climb down from the high wall and take flight. However all hope was squashed by harsh reality. The castle was inhabited by a half dozen guardsmen, three or four apprentice torturers, and a smattering of servants. All were fiercely loyal to Klasson who wisely treated his underlings well. Ivena had no one to comfort her save her little handmaiden Yennah. Yennah did what she could but it hardly mattered to Ivena who seriously considered hurling herself from her high window and breaking her own neck.
At last her marriage had been arranged and the event was scheduled for the following morning. As Ivena leaned against her lonely aperture and stared hopelessy into the countryside, a strange procession caught her lovely eyes. Soldiers marched towards the keep, some half dozen or so. Ahead of them shuffled a prisoner. He was shackled but walked as proudly as his chains allowed him. He was tall and well formed. He wore a bright, golden hued coat, and his hair was long and yellow. Even at a distance Ivena could tell he was young and handsome and of noble bearing. He glanced up at her window and the girl could have sworn a brief smile crossed the attractive features of the young man. A soldier prodded him cruely with his pike and the hapless prisoners hurried on.
Ivena roused the drousing Yenna and exclaimed with a trembling voice. "A new prisoner has arrived, go forth and try to learn something about him.
Yenna protested, "certainly he is only some poor lad that the Count wants tortured. Mayhaps he holds a secret or the Count simply bears a grudge. Doubtless his time in this world is very short and shall be incredibly unpleasant."
"That will be a shame for I declare he deserves a much better fate, I have never glanced at a more handsome man."
Yenna smiled, "simple country lass, you have seen far to few men and I suspect your judgement is flawed. Still, I would like to see this fellow you are so excited about. And I will ask a question or two of the guard that favors me a bit."
Yennah sped away and returned after what seemed to Ivena a horribly long interval. "Some of the Counts men captured your young hearty after a violent tavern brawl. Someone recognized him and swore he is a noble prince. A son of Conan the King of Aquilonia no less. Most Nemedian nobles hate King Conan and the young prince has been sentenced to death by torture, torture so long and painful that only Klasson be worthy of the honor. It is rumored that the Count himself may pay us a visit to witness a few hours of the young wanderer's suffering."
"But why don't they ask King Conan to pay ransom, isn't that the way the business of nobles is conducted. That is what my father told me during his stories."
Yennah smiled grimly, "King Conan pays ransom to no man, or god and no matter the reason."
"King Conan must be a horrible brute then, and such a handsome young man too! What an injustice."
"Conan is a barbarian, and a more bloodthirsty devil never walked the Hyborian kingdoms they say." Yennah nearly whispered the words. "Still, the young noble is safe for now. Klasson has his wedding to attend to first. It is whispered that late tomorrow night the ordeal of the captive will begin."
"On my wedding night," Ivena shuddered. What a monster Klasson truly is, and ugly as a troll."
Ivena has almost grown accustomed to the horrid screams and moans that echoed nightly throughout the castle. That night all was quiet save for the occasionaly tramping past of an armored warrior. The girl sat in deep contemplation while Yennah snored the night away nearby. At last Ivena seemed to have reached a decision point of some kind. She recalled the words her mother had spoken when the older woman placed the bag of herbs in her daughter's slender hand. "My heart goes out to you my fair child. Still, your father had little choice for we must eat and your sisters are many and another on the way. However, mix a bit of this ground herb into your drink on your wedding night and you shall be oblivious to all that occurs. It will make it easier for you my child. But be careful not to take to much or you shall fall into a deep sleep almost instantly."
Ivena seldom left her room but that night she slipped down to the kitchen. It was late but most of the castle's inhabitants were nocturnal and did the lion's share of their repose during the day following the habits of their master Klasson the Torturer. The girl found the cook's assistant still on duty. "What have you here Mistress," the boy asked curiously.
"In my family it is the custom to serve the men of the house wine the night before the bride's wedding. It symbolizes her willingness to subject herself to her husband and all that is his."
"A fine custom my lady, I will fetch a dipper and bucket of our best wine at once."
As soon as she obtained her desires the girl slipped away and dumped the entire lot of the ground herb into the bucket. Then she made her rounds. Every male she met was more than happy to indulge in a full dipper of the sweet wine. They were quick to assume Klasson approved of the "tradition" and raised no questions to the contrary. Klasson, already far into his own cups slept blissfully in his chamber unawared of his betrothed's scheming.
In due time the halls reverberated with the sound of loud snoring. The racket came from many different quarters. Prince Sadjon, late of Aquilonia sat brooding in his inpenetrable cell. He was not afraid to die, rather he regretted death would find him without a sword in his hand. He had been knocked senseless by a tavern wench wielding a heavy cudgel. Then he had fallen helplessly into the hands of his father's enemy. What damnable fate. He dreaded what his sire would think when the news reached the Aquilonia court, as it surely would. The Nemedians would see to that certainly, the bastards.
Then Sadjon was roused by a whisper, "do not be alarmed, I am a friend noble prince." The heavy door to the cell was slowly, cautiously pushed ajar. Then a beautiful young girl stood there shyly outlined by the scant light in the passageway torch. "I have brought you a sword and have unlocked your prison, give me time to retreat to my room before you make good your escape. I have drugged the guards. I am sure some are struggling to rouse themselves as we speak so act quickly Sir. And here is the sword I took from the armory."
"I know who you are, I overheard the guards talking, you are to be the bride of Klasson, that foulsome creature that does the work of the devil. Why do you help me of all people?"
"I aid you because I know in my heart your are far nobler than any of the dreadsome men in this part of Nemedia. And I include my own father in that grim assestment. Now go!"
Sadjon took the sword from the girl and balanced it in his large hand. His shoulders were broad and his eyes a volanic blue. Ivena drew back when she viewed the snarling face of the young man. His aspect had changed and she noticed for the first time the scars that crisscrossed his otherwise comely features. "First I have other matters I would attend to dear girl. Now return to your quarters and bar your door. These old walls will be awash in blood and and entrails momentarily."
Sadjon frightened the girl greatly. His voice slurred to a guttural growl and he trembled with anticipation. Ivena danced away to her room. She forgot to bar the door but dived beneath her bed. She had no idea what was about to happen but she felt almost sorry for what she had done that night.
Then truly horrible sounds filled the ancient halls. There was crashing, cursing, shouts and screams. The clash of steel on steel sang on the damp night air. These were punctuarted by blood curdling screams. The maelstrom of terror continued unabated for several minutes. Yennah leaped from her bed, "what in the name of hell's own demons is happening outside. Are we under attack?"
"I don't think so," Ivena replied in a quavering voice that nearly failed her.
"Then it must be a drunken brawl among the guards," Yennah reasoned. "Let us open the door and take a look."
Ivena screamed a protest but already Yennah was at the door. Ivena sought to force the door shut again. Then the two startled women could only glare in astonishment at what they witnessed. A guardsman staggered down the passageway obviously wounded. He trailed blood and one arm hung useless. Behind him rushed a horrific sight. The Aquilonian Prince, covered with fresh blood from head to foot came on with his features twisted in a frightful mask of bloodlust and berserker rage. He rapidly gained on his prey who screamed in mortal fear. Sadjon's sword fell in a powerful stroke that severed the doomed man's good arm clean off at the shoulder. The hapless guard spat blood whilst he fell beneath a tapestry, one that his wounds drowned in bright red.
Both of the young girls screamed and slammed the door to their quarters. They placed the heavy bar in place and raced to a far corner of the room where they huddled together with their hearts beating insanely.
"The barbarian is free, Istar save us from his fury. He will kill us all before this night is through!" Yennah howled.
"No, I think his fury will abate and off will he be." Ivena said soothingly to the frightened maid.
Soon the castle grew quite again save for loud shouts nearby. Someone was setting up quite a howl. "I think its the master," Yennah exclaimed. "He is alive but how can two girls go to his aid when that monstrous brute roams the castle."
"I suspect the barbarian is long gone by now," Ivena whispered. "He only paused to take a full measure of vengeance. Let us see to Klasson, perhaps he is indeed alive although I rather wish otherwise."
The two women left their room cautiously. There was no sight or sound of the Aquilonian. They did find Klasson though. He was covered in blood, minus and ear and most of the fingers on one hand, but he still lived. Ivena forced herself to not smile at the terrorfied expression in the feared torturers eyes. "Girl can you ride? If so find a mount and hurry to the village and fetch the healer. Otherwise I will surely die from my wounds!"
"Yes I can ride and ride well, was I not brought up on a farm around all manner of animals?" Ivena spoke a bit haughtily.
"Then go! While I still have breath girl!" Klasson shouted, his voice hoarse and rasping. Ivena responded to his commands and proceeded to make her way through the halls of the keep. She gaped astonished at the bloody mess. Headless and disembowled corpses were strewed throughout the castle. She cringed at one that grinned ghoulishly up at her. She wondered if one man could be capable of such violence. In her heart she realized that indeed he could and it darkened her spirit.
Ivena hurried to the stables and mounted a horse bareback. She prodded the animal vigorishly and raced away into the night. She hated Klasson but some sense of twisted loyalty to her father motivated her confused brain into action. She would fetch the healer, then perhaps she would ride on to the ends of the earth. Many thoughts raced through her youthful head. She thought mostly of the barbarian. Yes, he had carried himself nobly but there was no doubt he was a warrior born. A killer, a magnificent killer. She shivered and her slender thighs felt a thrill race though them all of a sudden.
Ivena was lost in her thoughts as she neared the village. She was so distracted the girl nearly let her steed run headlong into the shadowy figure on horseback that filled the darkened road just ahead. A sliver of moonlight on yellow hair shot into her vision and she reigned hard on her beast. It was the Aquilonian Prince.
His features were calm now. He raised a wineskin and took a long swallow. He was even bloodier than he had appeared before but his scarred face featured a warm smile that made her heart thump.
"What a vision you make lass, racing down the moonlite lane with that lovely red hair all aflame and trailing behind."
"I must reach the village and send a healer back to the castle. Klasson is on the verge of death."
"No he isn't," the Aquilonian laughed. "The wounds I gave him are not fatal. The coward screamed like a woman though," Sadjon laughed and took another drink of wine. "I only spared him because of you, he was to be your husband and you saved my life. Still, its a strange match if I am allowed to speak my mind lass."
"My father sold me to him, it was not of my will. I loathe Klasson, he is a filthy beast but I felt compelled to honor the bargain made by my father."
"You are a beautiful girl. As fair as any my eyes have fell upon, and I have traveled far and seen much. Klasson is a pig and by all rights I should ride back and cut his throat. However, I have other things on my mind. Come with me back to my home in Aquilonia, I will present you to my father King Conan and with his approval, I will make you my wife. It is only fair because my life is yours. And be assured, it is a duty I welcome with all my heart."
Ivena was stunned by the offer and for a moment she seemed equally dumbfounded and speechless. Then she quickly gathered herself and made the first decision in her life based on her own will. "I am yours my Prince."
Then they raced away from Nemedia at full gallop.
The ride to Tarantia proved hard and long. King Conan sat on his throne and appeared completely emotionless as Sadjon, covered with dried blood, and filth bowed. His long hair was matted and tangled, in short he looked worse than the beggars that gathered by the city's gate. At Conan's side sat prince Conn. He eyed Sadjon warily. The two were not especially friendly. Conn was not even convinced Sadjon was the spawn of the King.
Years ago a she-demon named Valeria had ridden into the city and presented a child of two years to the King. Without a word Conan had taken the babe and declared him to be his royal seed. Then Valeria had ridden away and disappeared forever. However, before taking her leave the blond witch had lingered long enough at a local tavern to badly wound two locals in a swordfight. Conan had laughed heartily at this bit of news.
Conn had once heard his father whisper to a drinking companion that, "even if he has not one drop of my blood, it is likely that any spawn of Valeria would make a warrior any sire would be proud to call his own!" Conn realized it was a semi jest made while very drunk. Yet he wondered.
Finally King Conan spoke, his intense stare and incredibly deep voice make Ivena tremble with dread. Sadjon smiled at her. "I was led to believe you would return as a king or at the head of magnificent army, or awash with half the great riches of the earth. However, all I see is a filthy child, though she might be comely with a bath."
Conan made a slight movement with his hand and a servant girl appeared from nowhere and took Ivena by the hand. "Come, the baths are most pleasant and we have wondrous perfumes for you to sample."
Ivena allowed herself to be led away, she glanced over her shoulder at Sadjon who only nodded.
"I am sorry to disappoint you father, I have returned with no titles or riches. Still, I have brought you a new daughter. She is a very good woman, and one who saved my life."
"I suppose she was the one responsible for freeing you from Klasson?"
"I am not surprised you know something of that," Sadjon replied. "I think I met one of your spies on the road."
"Why did you not slay that beast?" Conan inquired with genuine interest now.
"I slew everyone else, even the cook who came at me with a cleaver. I spared the torturer because he is a favorite of the Nemedian nobility, perhaps even a bastard son of some important man. And I felt it might be appropriate to grant them a small boon."
Conan nodded, "so you are thinking now?"
Sadjon shrugged and Conn yawned.
Conan leaned back on his throne and called for wine. "Come and sit near me Sadjon. Recently the court has proved to be even more tedious than usual. I would hear of your adventures, your narrow escapes, and the enemies you have slain. And do not spare any of the details my son."
theft of the torturer's bride
"Who's there, show yourself for I find spies much to my dislike." The warrior, for he carried a long broadsword in a leather sheath, made a motion towards the hilt of the deadly weapon.
"Stay your hand proud one, here I am."
The voice was feminine but not altogether soft. However, it did carry a hint of cultured refinement in its tone. A dark clad, hooded figure drifted slowy from a shadowy copse and nodded. The warrior steadied his mount which pawed at the groud and shook its noble head nervously. "Steady my boy, there is nothing to fear." The man was not certain of his own claim but the mount calmed a little.
"I come with a warning for you my friend," the mysterious entity said. "Ride clear of yon city below or trouble may fall upon your fair head young sir."
"I have been riding for two days. I only seek a bed and something to quench my thirst. I plan no adventures here, other than perhaps an adventure in the arms of some willing wench. Who sends you with this "warning", speak to me."
"I know nothing of what awaits you young man, I only bring the warning. Perhaps it would best if you consider carefully and take heed. Another day's ride to the next town will surely not kill one with your strength and endurance, to say nothing of your wonderful steed."
"Perhaps I should thank you but its just as likely you have rogues that await me on the road beyond. I am not an especially learned man but I do know there is risk with every undertaking and all choices must have consequences so I bade you goodnight witch, or whatever you be."
The shadowy figure bowed silently and the warrior spurred his horse onward towards the town without even a glance over his shoulder. He was not a man given to deep calculations and his vision was blurred by the thought of a bottle somewhere below. And perhaps tender female flesh.
The quiet and ancient Nemedian castle might have been called scenic by some. It is doubltful any locals felt that way. The slightly crumbling old fortress had fallen to Klasson, the chief torturer of a powerful Nemedian count. Little note was taken of the ivy spiraling about the old towers and battlements. No one commented about the stately oaks that surrounded the grounds. Only a few wayward ducks were inclined to visit the nearby pond. Wildflowers grew here and there and rose bushes occasionally sprouted their aromatic buds the same as they had dozens of years in the past, when they had been well tended.
A farmer lived on a mostly barren hillside within walking distance of Klasson Castle had it had lately been called. He raised scant crops save for one, he had a number of pretty daughters and no sons. Hard times and hunger often visited this erstwhile fellow. In desperation he had taken a few coins for the prettiest daughter of the lot. Her named was Ivena, and Klasson planned to make her wife when more pressing business slowed sufficently. For the time being the unseemly official satisfied himself with leering across the dinner table at the delectable morsel his lips would soon be tasting.
Ivena had moved to Klasson Castle, though she would rather have killed herself, were she not so young and desperate to experience something of life. Klasson the torturer was squat and bald, hairy and completely lacking in grace. His blackened teeth and the one eye that wandered rather to the right added little to his charm. In short his vile appearance matched his dark heart to near perfection. However, he made the show of being pious and desired a marriage bond before bedding the comely wench he had so recently obtained.
Ivena spent her time at the window in her quarters. She had ample view from her lofty perch and she stared wistfully out at the road. If only she could somehow climb down from the high wall and take flight. However all hope was squashed by harsh reality. The castle was inhabited by a half dozen guardsmen, three or four apprentice torturers, and a smattering of servants. All were fiercely loyal to Klasson who wisely treated his underlings well. Ivena had no one to comfort her save her little handmaiden Yennah. Yennah did what she could but it hardly mattered to Ivena who seriously considered hurling herself from her high window and breaking her own neck.
At last her marriage had been arranged and the event was scheduled for the following morning. As Ivena leaned against her lonely aperture and stared hopelessy into the countryside, a strange procession caught her lovely eyes. Soldiers marched towards the keep, some half dozen or so. Ahead of them shuffled a prisoner. He was shackled but walked as proudly as his chains allowed him. He was tall and well formed. He wore a bright, golden hued coat, and his hair was long and yellow. Even at a distance Ivena could tell he was young and handsome and of noble bearing. He glanced up at her window and the girl could have sworn a brief smile crossed the attractive features of the young man. A soldier prodded him cruely with his pike and the hapless prisoners hurried on.
Ivena roused the drousing Yenna and exclaimed with a trembling voice. "A new prisoner has arrived, go forth and try to learn something about him.
Yenna protested, "certainly he is only some poor lad that the Count wants tortured. Mayhaps he holds a secret or the Count simply bears a grudge. Doubtless his time in this world is very short and shall be incredibly unpleasant."
"That will be a shame for I declare he deserves a much better fate, I have never glanced at a more handsome man."
Yenna smiled, "simple country lass, you have seen far to few men and I suspect your judgement is flawed. Still, I would like to see this fellow you are so excited about. And I will ask a question or two of the guard that favors me a bit."
Yennah sped away and returned after what seemed to Ivena a horribly long interval. "Some of the Counts men captured your young hearty after a violent tavern brawl. Someone recognized him and swore he is a noble prince. A son of Conan the King of Aquilonia no less. Most Nemedian nobles hate King Conan and the young prince has been sentenced to death by torture, torture so long and painful that only Klasson be worthy of the honor. It is rumored that the Count himself may pay us a visit to witness a few hours of the young wanderer's suffering."
"But why don't they ask King Conan to pay ransom, isn't that the way the business of nobles is conducted. That is what my father told me during his stories."
Yennah smiled grimly, "King Conan pays ransom to no man, or god and no matter the reason."
"King Conan must be a horrible brute then, and such a handsome young man too! What an injustice."
"Conan is a barbarian, and a more bloodthirsty devil never walked the Hyborian kingdoms they say." Yennah nearly whispered the words. "Still, the young noble is safe for now. Klasson has his wedding to attend to first. It is whispered that late tomorrow night the ordeal of the captive will begin."
"On my wedding night," Ivena shuddered. What a monster Klasson truly is, and ugly as a troll."
Ivena has almost grown accustomed to the horrid screams and moans that echoed nightly throughout the castle. That night all was quiet save for the occasionaly tramping past of an armored warrior. The girl sat in deep contemplation while Yennah snored the night away nearby. At last Ivena seemed to have reached a decision point of some kind. She recalled the words her mother had spoken when the older woman placed the bag of herbs in her daughter's slender hand. "My heart goes out to you my fair child. Still, your father had little choice for we must eat and your sisters are many and another on the way. However, mix a bit of this ground herb into your drink on your wedding night and you shall be oblivious to all that occurs. It will make it easier for you my child. But be careful not to take to much or you shall fall into a deep sleep almost instantly."
Ivena seldom left her room but that night she slipped down to the kitchen. It was late but most of the castle's inhabitants were nocturnal and did the lion's share of their repose during the day following the habits of their master Klasson the Torturer. The girl found the cook's assistant still on duty. "What have you here Mistress," the boy asked curiously.
"In my family it is the custom to serve the men of the house wine the night before the bride's wedding. It symbolizes her willingness to subject herself to her husband and all that is his."
"A fine custom my lady, I will fetch a dipper and bucket of our best wine at once."
As soon as she obtained her desires the girl slipped away and dumped the entire lot of the ground herb into the bucket. Then she made her rounds. Every male she met was more than happy to indulge in a full dipper of the sweet wine. They were quick to assume Klasson approved of the "tradition" and raised no questions to the contrary. Klasson, already far into his own cups slept blissfully in his chamber unawared of his betrothed's scheming.
In due time the halls reverberated with the sound of loud snoring. The racket came from many different quarters. Prince Sadjon, late of Aquilonia sat brooding in his inpenetrable cell. He was not afraid to die, rather he regretted death would find him without a sword in his hand. He had been knocked senseless by a tavern wench wielding a heavy cudgel. Then he had fallen helplessly into the hands of his father's enemy. What damnable fate. He dreaded what his sire would think when the news reached the Aquilonia court, as it surely would. The Nemedians would see to that certainly, the bastards.
Then Sadjon was roused by a whisper, "do not be alarmed, I am a friend noble prince." The heavy door to the cell was slowly, cautiously pushed ajar. Then a beautiful young girl stood there shyly outlined by the scant light in the passageway torch. "I have brought you a sword and have unlocked your prison, give me time to retreat to my room before you make good your escape. I have drugged the guards. I am sure some are struggling to rouse themselves as we speak so act quickly Sir. And here is the sword I took from the armory."
"I know who you are, I overheard the guards talking, you are to be the bride of Klasson, that foulsome creature that does the work of the devil. Why do you help me of all people?"
"I aid you because I know in my heart your are far nobler than any of the dreadsome men in this part of Nemedia. And I include my own father in that grim assestment. Now go!"
Sadjon took the sword from the girl and balanced it in his large hand. His shoulders were broad and his eyes a volanic blue. Ivena drew back when she viewed the snarling face of the young man. His aspect had changed and she noticed for the first time the scars that crisscrossed his otherwise comely features. "First I have other matters I would attend to dear girl. Now return to your quarters and bar your door. These old walls will be awash in blood and and entrails momentarily."
Sadjon frightened the girl greatly. His voice slurred to a guttural growl and he trembled with anticipation. Ivena danced away to her room. She forgot to bar the door but dived beneath her bed. She had no idea what was about to happen but she felt almost sorry for what she had done that night.
Then truly horrible sounds filled the ancient halls. There was crashing, cursing, shouts and screams. The clash of steel on steel sang on the damp night air. These were punctuarted by blood curdling screams. The maelstrom of terror continued unabated for several minutes. Yennah leaped from her bed, "what in the name of hell's own demons is happening outside. Are we under attack?"
"I don't think so," Ivena replied in a quavering voice that nearly failed her.
"Then it must be a drunken brawl among the guards," Yennah reasoned. "Let us open the door and take a look."
Ivena screamed a protest but already Yennah was at the door. Ivena sought to force the door shut again. Then the two startled women could only glare in astonishment at what they witnessed. A guardsman staggered down the passageway obviously wounded. He trailed blood and one arm hung useless. Behind him rushed a horrific sight. The Aquilonian Prince, covered with fresh blood from head to foot came on with his features twisted in a frightful mask of bloodlust and berserker rage. He rapidly gained on his prey who screamed in mortal fear. Sadjon's sword fell in a powerful stroke that severed the doomed man's good arm clean off at the shoulder. The hapless guard spat blood whilst he fell beneath a tapestry, one that his wounds drowned in bright red.
Both of the young girls screamed and slammed the door to their quarters. They placed the heavy bar in place and raced to a far corner of the room where they huddled together with their hearts beating insanely.
"The barbarian is free, Istar save us from his fury. He will kill us all before this night is through!" Yennah howled.
"No, I think his fury will abate and off will he be." Ivena said soothingly to the frightened maid.
Soon the castle grew quite again save for loud shouts nearby. Someone was setting up quite a howl. "I think its the master," Yennah exclaimed. "He is alive but how can two girls go to his aid when that monstrous brute roams the castle."
"I suspect the barbarian is long gone by now," Ivena whispered. "He only paused to take a full measure of vengeance. Let us see to Klasson, perhaps he is indeed alive although I rather wish otherwise."
The two women left their room cautiously. There was no sight or sound of the Aquilonian. They did find Klasson though. He was covered in blood, minus and ear and most of the fingers on one hand, but he still lived. Ivena forced herself to not smile at the terrorfied expression in the feared torturers eyes. "Girl can you ride? If so find a mount and hurry to the village and fetch the healer. Otherwise I will surely die from my wounds!"
"Yes I can ride and ride well, was I not brought up on a farm around all manner of animals?" Ivena spoke a bit haughtily.
"Then go! While I still have breath girl!" Klasson shouted, his voice hoarse and rasping. Ivena responded to his commands and proceeded to make her way through the halls of the keep. She gaped astonished at the bloody mess. Headless and disembowled corpses were strewed throughout the castle. She cringed at one that grinned ghoulishly up at her. She wondered if one man could be capable of such violence. In her heart she realized that indeed he could and it darkened her spirit.
Ivena hurried to the stables and mounted a horse bareback. She prodded the animal vigorishly and raced away into the night. She hated Klasson but some sense of twisted loyalty to her father motivated her confused brain into action. She would fetch the healer, then perhaps she would ride on to the ends of the earth. Many thoughts raced through her youthful head. She thought mostly of the barbarian. Yes, he had carried himself nobly but there was no doubt he was a warrior born. A killer, a magnificent killer. She shivered and her slender thighs felt a thrill race though them all of a sudden.
Ivena was lost in her thoughts as she neared the village. She was so distracted the girl nearly let her steed run headlong into the shadowy figure on horseback that filled the darkened road just ahead. A sliver of moonlight on yellow hair shot into her vision and she reigned hard on her beast. It was the Aquilonian Prince.
His features were calm now. He raised a wineskin and took a long swallow. He was even bloodier than he had appeared before but his scarred face featured a warm smile that made her heart thump.
"What a vision you make lass, racing down the moonlite lane with that lovely red hair all aflame and trailing behind."
"I must reach the village and send a healer back to the castle. Klasson is on the verge of death."
"No he isn't," the Aquilonian laughed. "The wounds I gave him are not fatal. The coward screamed like a woman though," Sadjon laughed and took another drink of wine. "I only spared him because of you, he was to be your husband and you saved my life. Still, its a strange match if I am allowed to speak my mind lass."
"My father sold me to him, it was not of my will. I loathe Klasson, he is a filthy beast but I felt compelled to honor the bargain made by my father."
"You are a beautiful girl. As fair as any my eyes have fell upon, and I have traveled far and seen much. Klasson is a pig and by all rights I should ride back and cut his throat. However, I have other things on my mind. Come with me back to my home in Aquilonia, I will present you to my father King Conan and with his approval, I will make you my wife. It is only fair because my life is yours. And be assured, it is a duty I welcome with all my heart."
Ivena was stunned by the offer and for a moment she seemed equally dumbfounded and speechless. Then she quickly gathered herself and made the first decision in her life based on her own will. "I am yours my Prince."
Then they raced away from Nemedia at full gallop.
The ride to Tarantia proved hard and long. King Conan sat on his throne and appeared completely emotionless as Sadjon, covered with dried blood, and filth bowed. His long hair was matted and tangled, in short he looked worse than the beggars that gathered by the city's gate. At Conan's side sat prince Conn. He eyed Sadjon warily. The two were not especially friendly. Conn was not even convinced Sadjon was the spawn of the King.
Years ago a she-demon named Valeria had ridden into the city and presented a child of two years to the King. Without a word Conan had taken the babe and declared him to be his royal seed. Then Valeria had ridden away and disappeared forever. However, before taking her leave the blond witch had lingered long enough at a local tavern to badly wound two locals in a swordfight. Conan had laughed heartily at this bit of news.
Conn had once heard his father whisper to a drinking companion that, "even if he has not one drop of my blood, it is likely that any spawn of Valeria would make a warrior any sire would be proud to call his own!" Conn realized it was a semi jest made while very drunk. Yet he wondered.
Finally King Conan spoke, his intense stare and incredibly deep voice make Ivena tremble with dread. Sadjon smiled at her. "I was led to believe you would return as a king or at the head of magnificent army, or awash with half the great riches of the earth. However, all I see is a filthy child, though she might be comely with a bath."
Conan made a slight movement with his hand and a servant girl appeared from nowhere and took Ivena by the hand. "Come, the baths are most pleasant and we have wondrous perfumes for you to sample."
Ivena allowed herself to be led away, she glanced over her shoulder at Sadjon who only nodded.
"I am sorry to disappoint you father, I have returned with no titles or riches. Still, I have brought you a new daughter. She is a very good woman, and one who saved my life."
"I suppose she was the one responsible for freeing you from Klasson?"
"I am not surprised you know something of that," Sadjon replied. "I think I met one of your spies on the road."
"Why did you not slay that beast?" Conan inquired with genuine interest now.
"I slew everyone else, even the cook who came at me with a cleaver. I spared the torturer because he is a favorite of the Nemedian nobility, perhaps even a bastard son of some important man. And I felt it might be appropriate to grant them a small boon."
Conan nodded, "so you are thinking now?"
Sadjon shrugged and Conn yawned.
Conan leaned back on his throne and called for wine. "Come and sit near me Sadjon. Recently the court has proved to be even more tedious than usual. I would hear of your adventures, your narrow escapes, and the enemies you have slain. And do not spare any of the details my son."
theft of the torturer's bride