The Sound of Rain
#1 of Beneath the Skies of Creation
It was the sound of rain that greeted me, and the scent of a cooked breakfast brought from the cooking stove, the scent of flat cakes and warmed ham from the night before. Inside of my chambers I awoke, feeling the cool air seep in against the edge of my covers, while the sound of the militia outside began to awaken and prepare for morning exercises. I let them work, as I turned, feeling the depression in the ancient bed to my right, and felt the distinct lack of my slave beside me. I turned, feeling for her, and turned my face to breath in the soft musk that was on the pillow.
I sat up, combing my black hair out, and adjusted the wrap at my hips, which helped to keep me nice and warm outside the blanket. I pulled the blankets from me and rose up, shivering at the cold flooring at my feet, and set about relieving morning needs, and washing my face with the rain-gathered water. It was a habit my slave had taught me, and I always felt refreshed with a quick scrub and cleaning. As I left, I found her standing, her bare back to me, as she finished preparing a morning meal for me, and one for herself. She did not need to eat as much as I, and did not eat much in the way of meat, but she was no stranger to it.
I touched her lower back, and slid my fingers through the thin velvety pelt, and down to the long, slender tail root. I stroked it, and then stepped in to look over her shoulder, she no more than five feet to my five and a half, and her ears did little to hide my gaze. I looked at the cooking fire as it sizzled with dripping fat. I sighed, the smell lovely, and stepped back to settle at the table, which was served with a smile along her slender mousey snout. She sat across from me and I nodded, accepting her request, and we ate the well cooked meal together.
"The rain bodes blessed for you, Master. Your Calvary shall have the blessings of the Gods to help you, in the war. It's spoken that the ships were spotted today, and the Knights have landed, preparing to lay siege, they say. Will your soldiers be meeting them in battle, or letting them spend themselves upon the fortress walls?"
"We shall meet them." I said, savoring the taste of ham. She ate slow and small, each bite a savoring of each taste. I suspected she could taste more than I ever could, as was the benefits of having a longer tongue. I smiled at a thought. "And when they are chased to the ships, or captured, we shall see what value their captured shall be worth. Perhaps we ransom the lot of them, or maybe find a few to add blood to the Wemic population. Perhaps you would like a hand in deciding, hm?"
She smiled, and waved her hand before me softly, with the same, soft, serene smile she had always given me.
"My Master would find great value in doing both. Perhaps he should think both of placing ransom upon their worthless lives, and having them see to helping improve the blood of the royal property?" She spoke with the wisdom of a shrewd merchant, and held such high ambition for my estate, that had she not been a slave, I would have had her my majordomo, or even as my bride. I shook the blasphemous thoughts from my head. If the God's had intended her for a life beyond slavery, she would have been human. "It would be of value to your name and lands, I believe."
"We shall see, Belladonna, we shall see. For now, I could use your help in dressing me for battle. The servants shall have my mount ready. Finish your meal and be quick, before we prepare prayers to Heaven. You have the oils from home, and the seeds prepared for crushing, yes? I look forward to mixing the blood of my stallion Parvias with it. We do not suspect a hard fight, but the Gods love their offerings."
She nodded her head softly and gave me a quiet smile, before she eased up to her feet and approached the chest holding my ring mail. It was simple, lacking the more ornate work of my ceremonial family armor, but it was worth more when it came to true combat. She laid it upon the bed as well as the under-leathers and breeches, which she helped me into. I slid the boots on myself and was handed my sword, which was always at arms length. She finally dressed herself up after she was finished, sliding into a comfortable, solid leather outfit, which hugged her rather nicely. I preferred her bare, but this would serve its purposes.
It was not often a slave was permitted to battle outside of the Royal Bound, but not unheard of. I took her arm in mine and we walked out onto the battlements, and observed the great lion ships down at the great sea. Belladonna strode at my side and held the short blade at her hip. She had a great figure. I continued on, feeling the rain kiss me, and make my armor shine. It was a rare gift before battle.
We walked to the grand fire pit, tended to by the priests of the Gods. Knelt before the flames were two slaves, stripped to their breeches, their hands lashed together behind them, and heads up as they were prepared before the great fires. I did not know why they had been chosen, one a hyena-man, a Gnoll with grand tall ears, the other a strange mix of lion and man, with four legs of a feline, the arms of man, and face of a beast. The Wemics were the cousin to those who invaded us. Both were heavy sacrifice, one a slave, the other a prisoner of the last battle. My slave stood beside me, her head bowed and she looking to the fire, in contemplation. She had once been considered for the flames, before I had asked for her from my fathers stables. He had given her to me, and her loyalty was steadfast for it.
"Before the battle, where blood is to be spilled, we call upon the Gods, that they bless the sacrifices we give, and honor our fight to defend our lands against those who would invade and conquer our lands. We call upon the Gods to defend our lands, and strengthen the arms of our warriors. We call upon the Gods to drive our foes from the beaches. We offer these humble sacrifices, that our pleas be heard."
The sacrifices were prepared, rubbed upon with the oils of home and crushed seeds, and their heads tilted back. The sacrifices struggled for a few moments, before the sacrificial blades were slid across their throats, and their blood spilled down furred chests. They struggled, for several seconds, before slowly slumping forward, into the flames. I poured the mixed oil and seed and horse blood into the flames to join with the spirits soon to join the heavens.
For a moment, the heavens were still, and the clouds halted their rains, ominously. The wind stopped, and the breeze halted. The clouds ripple a solid gray to white, as though threatening to halt the rain, before the clouds roared with thunder, and became as black as onyx. The rain became a storm.
The bodies burned, and the priests joined their blood by way of the blade to forearm - the priests forearms were covered in old offerings, thin and shallow to bleed better, but offered no risk of death. The flames roared by oil and blood, the rain sizzling, but the fires did not go out, even with the torrent. The Gods were pleased. I looked up and gave a quiet thanks to them, and turned, my Nezumi Rat slave at my side, and we walked out to see to the horses.
"Sub-Pasha (sub-general) Arsalan, your mount is ready. Will your servant be joining you in battle?" He gestured to Belladonna, who had been given a short dual-curve bow, as well as a riding spear. It was two feet taller than her, but she was a master of the weapon. I gave her a nod and she smiled, sliding the thin leather cap upon her brow, cut to let her ears stand tall. Her tail was wrapped to defend it, I would have missed her tail if it had come to be damaged. I gave it a tug to test the grip, finding it nice and snug.
"Yes, the geldling Abda shall be her mount. They have always gone together when they rode." I nodded to her and gave her shoulder a firm pat, while drawing astride my battle mount, and gripped the saddle with my thighs. The stallion was ready for battle, moving about nervously with the activity and scents of an upcoming fight. The geld was mounted and the reigns taken, and she walked out beside me. I took and pressed up my helm, and lead the way out, as my cavalrymen went behind.
"To war."
War came with a shudder of the heavens, and the unleashing of the great torrents stored as sign that the Gods were watching I waited at the head of the cavalry, near the flatter ground near the fortress, before the high ground of the fortress. The shore lapped and swelled, making wet the foes of the grand and holy islands. I savored the scent of the ocean and the wash of brine, the ready fires of the storm crackling.
"The grand armies of the Lion come to battle and conquer our nation! They ride out, to do war with the chosen of Heaven and the Rain! They claim our land is cursed, that we are a mote in the eyes of Heaven, that we are wicked! They come and storm our lands, to break the sacred bonds of Master and Slave, to put to flame our King and Lands! They claim we are wicked, but no more do we step beyond our borders than the ocean beyond the shorelines!"
I rode before the seventy gathered men of blade and spear. Down on the beach the militias battled one another in their simple armors, battling with clubs and simple spears, as a preface to battle as it had been for generations. I watched for a moment, then looked back to my men, tall and noble. My servant waited to the side, as did several others upon their smaller geld. It was not common for the slave servants to ride to battle, but another body on the field was always a help, and one more friend to rely upon. They watched patiently, clad in leathers and with their bows and spears ready. They never fought from the front, they were not required to face their foe face to face, and could safely battle to the side without drawing the ire of the Gods.
"They claim the blessings of the Lion God and the Companions, and yet, they would dare storm our land? Let us honor their willingness to be offered to the Gods, let us honor their challenge, and then strike them down! Storm Riders, to war!"
A great cheer rose from my riders, they rose their blades high, and cried again. A second, a third, a fourth cheer, and I turned my horse and faced forward, towards the beach and the Wemic invaders. They were charging into the fray to strike down the red garbed militia. I took a moment to admire the beautiful golden fur that rippled with muscle and rain. I made a decision then that I would capture several for the stables, to breed their strength into my herd.
With the final cheer leaving their breast, I raised my blade and thrust it forward, and we began our charge onto the beachhead. In those moments, riding to battle, everything began to slow, and my moments stretched out slow. Sound stopped into silence, my tongue tasted of copper, and my head swam with all the tactics, all the battles, every lesson I had ever learned in my time within the royal legions. It all came to me in a rush, a whisper of the moment, and I breathed deep, the wind pushing back my hair. The Wemic Cavalry was a hundred yards before me, and charging through the militia. Seventy yards ahead, and their manes weighed down wetly, casting a ripple of water through the air as they ran.
Fifty, I watched one leap and swing down with the great scimitar, his blade shining through the air and slicing clean through the shoulder and arm of a poor gnoll, who fell and clutched his stump, before being stomped upon by one of the lion bastards. I could taste the blood from here, as I charged.
Thirty, I watched arrows flow over head, shot from the servants who galloped a hundred yards behind us. The arrows fell indiscriminately, landing in shoulder and breast and throat and skull. A knight fell, an arrow through his breast, and having struck his heart. I smiled for the aim of my Belladonna, and the smile fell upon my face. It pushed up the bushy facial hair on my lip.
Another twenty yards fell, and then we crashed into the knights from ahead, the blades falling and flashing, and my arms reverberating from a powerful side chop. My weapon rung heavy on steel and a crunch of bone promised I had struck true. My horse mounted over a corpse and I fell into the militia mob, striking left and right hard and heavy, falling into motions as my thoughts fell away. This was war, this was battle, this was the moment I loved the most, and nothing could compare.
I felt the whisper of air shift at my side, and I turned, bringing my blade in to deflect a sudden thrust of a spear. A downward chop pushed the spear away, and I returned the effort with a kick, that crunched into bone with a shove of my iron-weighed boot. I kicked again, and turned the horse, pulling away from the mob and rounding about, leading my soldiers away and spread into their own units. I rounded, glancing at my blade and watching blood run down it, washing with the rain, and lifted it high with a cheer. This cheer was answered a moment later from a plate-clad knight of the Lion.
"I am Magistros! With my blade I shall send you to be judged before the Companions!" He roared, and I rose my blade up to salute him. He was heavier and stronger than I was, but I was faster, and I rode forward on my mount, and drew my spear up and braced, aiming it for his breast. He drew up the great flanged shield, catching the spear when it came close, which left me an opening to leap off my mount and crash into the beast. My sword rained blows, before being torn away, and he slashed at my face with his claws.
It hurt. It hurt when they tore into my jaw and across my cheek, leaving great furrows in my face. I spat blood and cried out to my shame, but broke free of his grip and leapt back, giving an offering of blood to the gods from my face. I drew my short blade and ducked down beneath his shield and slashed up to catch his forearm. The blade struck through, and slid the blade through muscle and flesh, and the sand turned red.
I drew my blade free and slashed again - and was knocked flat with the harsh slap of the shield. It came at me again and I threw myself to the side, rolling across the sand and raising up, only to be leapt upon by the great ravening beast. His eyes were filled with rage and pain, and this he drew in close, trying to drag me into hell with him. I caught his crashing weight with an upwards kick and twisted, tossing him off of me, though my left ankle gave a harsh grind. He writhed, and swung at me again, trying to smother me, only to meet my blade into snout, and a sharp stab up ended his struggles.
"Gods preserve you, Magistros. You fought well." I said, drawing my blade free and whistling for my horse, retrieving my blade and putting a hand up to wipe the blood from my cheek. Dark waves of pain radiated from my cheek, making me feel woozy, but I climbed into the saddle and wheeled about to face the next onslaught of the militia. I laughed, dark, tasting my pain.
Arrows rained from the sky again, falling upon the militia again. The black shafted arrows fell heavy as I rode towards the lines again, rounding with my horsemen and gave a mighty whoop that they answered with joy. I took up the charge once more, and met battle with a snarl. It went on, for many hours.
So went the bloody war.
I lost count of the bodies, and the sword strokes, and the small wounds that crossed my body. I lost track of everything but the battle and sweat and the endless rain against the hordes of Wemic knight and militia facing the might of the Kingdom of the Blood Rain. The Knights of the Lion would know fear of our lands again, and when the last arrow fell, and the last stroke of my blade hammered down upon bone and flesh, I was exhausted but pleased with how battle went.
I sat astride my mount and felt the dull ache in my jaw, my face ruined by the stroke that had taken my cheek apart. But, I didn't make a fuss, for I still breathed, and that was better than hundreds upon the shore. To the benefit of the knights of the Lion, they fought hard and long, and even though overcome, driven off to the ships or captured, they would be met with full honors. They were invaders, but they had fought with honor, and would be treated as such. I smiled about this.
And I regretted it considerably, as it broke open a sand-crusted scab, and made me spit blood. I made a note to see to the healers about preventing the spirits of infection from visiting me, but pushed it aside when focusing upon the sight of the setting sun, distant, and having shown itself for a moment on the edge of the storm.
"You fought hard." Belladonna spoke at my side. A bandage crossed her abdomen and forearm, where a lucky slash had split the leather at her belly, but hadn't struck deep enough to disembowel her. I made another note to give a sacrifice to the temple for not taking her from me, and gave a slow nod in reply. "You were always ugly, but the scars will look nice."
I laughed, and spat again. I wanted to smack her for making my jaw hurt, but she was out of reach. I sighed low and shook my head, and signaled for her to come close. She did, and I reached up and kissed her firmly upon her mouth, before smacking her on her tail, before looking up at the horsemen, who didn't catch my face. I was drunk on battle, drunk on war, so I didn't care all too much about their opinions.
"We all fought hard! I couldn't carry the battle without my brothers to stand at my side and back! We showed the Lions to pick their prey better, didn't we?" I laughed brightly, and grunted again, my head swimming in pain. I spat the last of the blood from my mouth and sighed. "Come, let me get to the priests, and perhaps the Hyena Lord will see to keeping me from losing any more blood. You did well, my soldiers, commendations upon your houses and teachers. Amazingly well done, so please go and eat, drink, and enjoy yourself my brothers!"
They rode free from me with few words in pass but a few hearty congratulations on surviving and fighting with valor were offered. I kept my face still to prevent any further pain, and let the horse carry me back to the grand granite fortress. I looked forward to the night of rest and a hearty meal to settle my stomach. I rolled shore shoulders and carefully looked over at the exhausted mouse at my side. She gave a very tired smile.
"A hundred arrows, they say. A hundred arrows and you slew many of our foes from behind, I think even the Gods should find you worthy of a blessing. And, you saved my life, as I would expect of you, but with such a need to battle." I sighed once, and reached over to touch upon her cheek lovingly, stroking through fur and whiskers gently. "Let us return to the fortress, and then home. I look forward to seeing the estate after these great rains, and I am sure you wish to see your family as well. They have bred a beautiful and faithful daughter. Perhaps it is time that you looked to fulfill your obligation to the House, and your people?"
She nodded slowly, but ever she hid her feelings behind an unreadable mask. I gazed up at the darker eyes, contrasting the soft pale pelt, I stared deep, and long, before looking away with a pang, that I pushed away and continued on again, towards the fortress. We would discuss it at some other time, but for now, there were duties to fulfill and obligations, as my status required. First of which was seeing to a healer for myself, and for the cuts on my servant, after first having my soldiers treated. A good leader was always one who set the example, after all.
I entered the grand fortress, past the guards who gave a salute, and found the healers busy tending to the wounded and dying. I waited patiently, as they saved whom they could and slit the arm of those fated to a painful death, so to save them from a lingering agony. I watched the march of captured prisoners, those of all races, Wemic and men and other things to be certain. I paid little heed, for their moment would be in the morrow, after a rest and meal. The soldiers and militia and knights, the chosen of the Rain and Blood, drank heartily and sang songs of their victory, and I let them have it. Poor is the leader who refuses a moment of joy to his men!
When at last the priest came to me, chosen of the Hyena Lord, he took a look to me and my servant, and set about tending our individual wounds; she unabashedly stripped for an examination of the scratch, and I received a bandage and alcohol cleaning. The scars would be jagged and rough, adding to my fame more than any medal or award from the throne. The physician took his time, and sent us on our way, where I politely declined the grand celebration, in favor of my men not having to fear my eyes upon them. They earned their rest, and I gave it.
Instead, I bid my servant rest in bed, and a meal was delivered from the kitchen for the both of us. We ate without words, and I undressed myself without her help, for as soon as she finished, she was unconscious, in the timeless dream of the dead soldier. I looked at her, with a small fire burning for warmth, and slowly stripped down to the essentials. I felt tired and bone weary, I wanted nothing more than to sleep.
I felt the urge, there, from after the battle. I felt the urge tug at my senses, and stir my loins, but pushed it away, for I would not risk her awakening, even for something we both enjoyed. No, instead, I gave her a kiss.
I dreamed.