Slave Girl 3: Chapter 68 (Patreon)

When I wake I find myself not only flanked by my two slumbering ladies but a rotund little green babe was spooned around my head, her warm breath snurffling across my ear. For a moment I sort of just float inside my cocoon of warmth and love until…

“Ohhh.” The instant I shift a muscle all the soreness in my ass and the ache in my muscles hits me all at once. A slow, wide grin spreads across my face as the memories of last night are brought to the morning through my flesh. I was fine, the ache wasn’t enough to slow me down, but I could tell we’d pushed things to my limit last night. I would tell my Lady about this of course, she was always insistent to know these things, but for now I just savor that wonderful used and abused sensation. Every movement was a wonderfully wincing reminder of Rosa and Cassie. Oh so carefully I extract myself from our huddled mass, the trio closing in behind me as in her sleep Colly shifts down to fill the space I’d left behind to become snuggled between the other two. I smile as I gaze down upon my chosen family, taking a moment to reflect on the unique yet common love I held for each of them. When I spot a bundle of orange curled into a ball in the corner I softly chuckle and whisper. “And you too, little sister.”

I wash, dress, then collect my sword and slip out of the curtain. I stop beside my mighty steed, noting how his head hung low in resignation to the indignity of transport. I lift his neck and step into him, letting him rest my head on my shoulder. Leaning my head into his cheek I pet his onyx mane. “Patience, soldier. Still. I cannot take you to this island but the mainland isn’t much further now.” I pat his muscled neck. “I swear on Ceres that I will never put you through this again, my friend. Even if it means letting you run wild.”

He doesn’t understand a word, of course, but my attention does seem to lift his spirits some. I feed him, water him and clean up after him then head above to dispose of his droppings.

On deck I give Kreer a nod, both as greeting and recognition of his authority here. He acknowledges me but says nothing, which was fine by me. The sky was the color of lead and morning air damp and heavy. The full day crew were already at their stations as the Hostia Negra sliced its way east, toward where a slight lighter color in the clouds was the only hint of the rising sun. The men’s mood seemed as somber as the weather, not downcast but sternly alert to the changing weather and sea. If they had heard anything the night before there are no envious glances or sly quips to indicate it. This morning they gave me my space, possibly on orders from the captain though just as likely from their own common sense to leave a ‘hero’ have some peace before being called upon.

I do not train today. Instead I go to the space I usually did my exercises and kneel with Toke stood in front of me. The tip of the blade anchored into the wood of the deck I hold it by the guard and stare into the strange patterns in the metal. Though I could feel eyes upon me I speak to the spirit within, keeping my voice low so as not to carry on the wind.

“Have you stayed to help me fight or to watch me bleed, old friend?” I whisper. It was an open question as ‘friend’ did not even come close to summing up our complicated relationship. “Did our battle ever end? Did you have a choice to stay or go?” Tilting the the blade the dim reflected light dances down the steel like flames. “You died as you lived those final months. With honor and dignity. On your feet and unbowed, going on your own terms.” Slowly I nod as the questions are answered in my heart. “You chose to stay. You gave your life for Rosa, for all of us. You called me your legacy.” My voice hushes. “Your legacy. You taught me lessons my father…never had the chance to give.” Finding my sharpening stone I begin to run it along blade, though in my time with this weapon I had never noticed a difference as the edge had always remained as keen as when it was first formed. “You cheated death itself to stay at my side and taste the blood of our enemies. And fight you shall, old friend. Stand ready, you stubborn northman, for tonight you drink!”

Grabbing the grip I spin the blade above my head then bring it down to slap the flat of the steel against the railing hard enough to shatter a lesser sword. Toke’s song rings true for a count of ten before slowly fading into the steady patter of the rain. I take his song into my heart and sing my own, a battle song to mighty Minerva taught to me by Rosa to arouse and harness my fighting spirit. From song I quickly transition to prayer, focusing on those facets of my soul not ruled by Ceres or Morpheus. From Minerva I ask for wisdom and strategy to overcome, from Virtus courage and the strength to protect my loved ones, from Victoria victory for the villagers I would help, and I even spare a breath for that northern all-father to lend me some of the ferocity I had seen in Toke. Mars…I could not bring myself to honor. He and the Empire who fought with his blessings had taken my father from me. Mars meant war, violence for the sake of it, finding glory in the gore. These were not the things I fought for.

By the time I was done my prayers Cassie was at my side. She smirks and quips. “Kneeling and bowing for the gods too? I might get jealous, you know. You’re just a good boy through and through.”

I chuckle and kiss her cheek. “You know it. Join me?”

She shakes her head. “I said mine already.” With a glint in her blue eyes she glances downward. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I feel…” I shift my hips. “…like a pair of Scylla-spawn will be child’s play after my trials last night.”

“HA!” She tousles my hair. “Come on, hero. You’re getting wet and it’s time for your shave.”

Feeling centered and energized I rise and follow Cassie below deck. As per our regular morning ritual Rosa shaves me, her nimble hands nicking not once even with the rocking of the ship. That wonderful bit of normalcy transitions into a day spent together. There were no lessons, no breeding, and no talk of dead friends or strange magic. We do not strategize nor rehash our decision nor agonize about what might be. In fact we do not speak of the quest at all. Rosa, Cassie, Colly, Danae and I gather around Catalus to laugh and play games and flirt and tease and dream of our future together. Perhaps it wasn’t the idea way to spend our time before our first true adventure as recognized heroes but for the life of me I couldn’t think of what could have been better.

By that afternoon a call rings out. “Land ho!”

And with that our precious slice of domestic bliss comes to an end. We look at each other and take one last moment to remind ourselves who we were and what we fought for then go and prepare. Colly pulls on her cloak, shoulders her pack, and pushes her knives into her belt. Cassie stands ready with her bow across her back and quiver and hand axe at her hips. Rosa wears a string of the cooling tesserae around her wrist, her slim waist encircled by her coiled special rope and tucked inside her stola her magical pin. By her foot sat her loyal fox. Over a head taller than the rest I stand boldly, my sword held within my father’s cingulum across my back.

As one we turn and head to the ladder, one by one filing up onto the deck. We move to the front of the boat and there, beyond the black sheep figurehead, we see the dark mound of the island approaching.

Chapter 69