Legends of Belariath
Vetic and Taisya
Vetic's Story
The smoke billowing against the afternoon sky was the first omen of ill fortune. The circling cloud of carrion birds was the second. The knight spurred his horse on as the smoke boiled up into the sky and the ravens circled. The first body was cast in a bloody heap in the road, bled dry from viscous wounds. By the time the knight had reached the keep’s gate, he had counted 23 dead, all king’s men. He must get to the king.
It was worse inside the keep. Corpses lay strewn about and the flagstones were slick with gore. The knight’s horse had difficulty picking its way through the mutilated dead to the doors of the great hall. With one strong motion the knight pulled those vast doors open and a rancid stench washed out over the man, forcing him to his knees and raising the bile in his throat. The dead had been shut up in the hall for some time and the rotting flesh now tainted the very air. Where was the king?
Then the knight’s eyes fell upon the empty throne and the sight revealed to his gaze burned itself into his mind. A chain led away from the throne and was attached to the ankle of a slumped, putrid form. The king’s corpse.
There was no visible wound, but the once noble face wore such a grimace of agony that there was no doubt of the suffering the king had endured. The body lay a few feet from what was left of the queen, its arm stretched out towards her as if in supplication. Where the king showed no sign of violence his Lady had been the target of unspeakable acts.
The queen had been tortured, certainly. Her fingers were broken and held at odd angles, her feet were... gone. She had been raped so repeatedly and with such force that her thighs were crushed and bloody, her womb ravaged. She lay in a pool of congealed blood and seed. Her face, bloated in death, turned away from the king’s gaze as if to hide her suffering from his pained eyes. And the king had been chained while this happened just beyond the reach of his royal hands. Her corpse showed several days rotting while her Lord’s was fresher. She had been butchered while the king was left to die slowly, surrounded by the ruins of his court.
All but one of the king’s men had perished in the massacre; one young knight who had been sent to mediate a dispute in a vassal’s court. And now that knight surveyed the destruction of his home and the defilement of his liege’s court. A rage rose inside him. A fire of hatred kindled in his heart and darkness shadowed his vision. And over his liege’s rotting corpse the knight swore his fealty once more. He would avenge the king.
The knight rode away from the nightmare that had been his home. His search of the keep had turned up no survivors, the invaders had even left their own to die. He had honored the fallen; turned the court into a funeral pyre for the king and queen. The only thing the knight carried away from the place was a strip of cloth torn from an enemy surcoat. It bore a mysterious and vile insignia. The knight would search out the lord who belonged to that sigil.
Years passed. The knight had journeyed far from the lands that had once been his home. He yet carried the strip of cloth, still searching for its source. Anger and hate had turned him cold and buried the happiness and hope he had once known. Travel had taken the youthful good looks and left him with a rugged handsomeness and a lean, toned body. There was no mistaking the power in the tall knight’s solid frame. His brown eyes were shadowed, still holding the horrors of his liege’s court. He never smiled. Serving a dead king had been costly.
Eventually the knight’s quest brought him to Nanthalion. The extended area seemed promising to his search and he took a room at the Lonely Inn. He was robbed the second night of his stay.
The thief was beautiful, human with flame red hair and creamy skin. Her body begged to be used by his hands. The knight caught the thief easily, her nimble fingers having just relieved him of his coin. The thief looked at him. Cornflower blue eyes that absolutely shone with innocence and hurt, as if he did not have her red-handed with his money. The knight felt a lurch inside and a bit of the shadow fell away from his heart. “Tell me your name, thief.” His voice was gruff. “Tallia.” Her voice was sweet and he felt a stirring in his groin.
”I should turn you over to the city guard, thief.”
”No, sir, please. They... they do horrible things to thieves.” Her voice held fear now and he felt he might become lost in those bright blue eyes.
”What shall I do with you then? I cannot leave you loose in the city to rob others.” The knight drew the girl towards himself, enjoying the frightened set of her features.
”I could serve you, sir. Just please don’t give me to the guard.”
”Done.”
The human bowed her head in defeat. “What is your name? I would like to know what I should call you.”
”I am Vetic. But you will call me Master.”
”Yes, Master.” And with that, her fate was sealed. The knight had acquired a slave.
More time passed. Vetic searched the area for any trace of his king’s murderer but remained unsuccessful. Tallia, now his collared slave, served the knight and kept him company. Her presence brought some light to his shadowed heart, although his hand was heavy when it came to discipline, which Tallia seemed to need quite often. She was a rebellious slave, her nature too independent to give in easily to servitude. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, Vetic was satisfied with his situation. He bore a dark streak that reveled in whipping and raping his slave as much as he enjoyed showing her mercy when she least expected it. His life became wrapped around sating his own lusts as the darkness in his soul sought new ways to claim him.
The knight’s days were now spent in training and searching for his enemy. And many comfortable evenings were spent at the Lonely Inn, drinking and having his way with the girls. Then one night he met an elfin bard. She held a harp in her arms and wore a wry smile. A purple wine stain poured down the front of her white shirt. He saw the other males eyeing her delicate form and took a seat next to her at the bar.
”Having problems drinking?” Gruff as always.
”No, sir. The problem is that this was someone else’s drink.” The bard’s voice was musical and carried the slight lilting accent of the woodland realms. Her eyes shone with merriment in spite of her ruined shirt and her sweet smile cut straight through the darkness that guarded his heart. The knight was lost and did not yet know it.
He took a closer look at the wood elf, intrigued. A drink spilled on his own shirt would have enraged the knight, but this woman laughed it off. Her eyes were the purple gray of a breaking storm and just as wild. Her flawless skin was pale ivory and her hair was a rich chestnut brown. And where so many local women had lovely curves, this girl was sapling slender. Her breasts looked just big enough to pleasantly fill his palms.
”I’ll take you into town to the Naked Bird and see about getting you a clean shirt.” Of course it was far too late for the store to be open, but any excuse to get the bard away from the other men who were leering at her like jackals was good enough. The woman considered his offer and for one gut-wrenching moment the knight thought she would refuse. Then her smile lit the room. “That wounds wonderful, thank you.” His heart melted.
The knight escorted the wood elf from the inn and to his horse. He helped her up onto the great steed and then urged it into a gentle gait. A silvery voice chimed from behind him. “Go faster!” The stoic man’s face cracked into a smile. “Hold on to me.” He forgot to be gruff and as he felt those slender arms wind around his waist he kicked his stallion into a gallop. Delighted laughter bubbled around him as the small bard bounced wildly against his back with the bumps of the horse’s gait.
Of course the Naked Bird was closed. The elf didn’t seem to mind and was much more interested in galloping back down the road. Vetic was more than happy to oblige her as it meant another few minutes of having her pert breasts rubbing against his back. He brought the stallion up in front of the Lonely Inn, desperately thinking of a way to keep his bard for a little longer.
”Thank you for your help, but I’m camping in the woods. I don’t have a room here.”
She had solved the knight’s dilemma and he quickly grasped at the feeble excuse. That delicate wood elf camping alone in the forest? Outrageous. “You cannot stay out there by yourself, there are goblins and brigands. I will stay with you and make sure you are safe.” Then almost as an afterthought. “If that is alright?”
”I’d adore your company.” With those soft words Vetic’s heart was lost.
He took the bard into the woods. The nighttime forest was enchanted now, the stars shining more clearly and the moonlight that lit their way was pure magic. Vetic spent the night with Taisiya in the shelter of a small glade. For the first time in years his dreams were not haunted. The sylvan bard had kept the nightmares away with her radiance.
The knight woke up early, ready to tell the bard how she had saved him from his familiar nighttime terrors. He reached out a hand to where she had slept tucked warm against his side. Nothing. She was gone. Vetic looked around quickly. Had he dreamt her? Then his eyes fell the small tangle of clothes. The vixen had taken his clean shirt and left him with her stained garment. If her shirt was real, she was real. A smile curved his lips, softening the rugged features. All he had to do was find her again, and to do that, all he had to do was look for his own shirt.
The knight pulled on his trousers and set out in search of his stolen shirt. The shadows were banished as he thought about the elfin bard and for the moment, Vetic’s soul no longer belonged to a dead king.