Chapter 5: Taken
Later that evening Aeva heard a loud bang on her door, interrupting her tightly hugging her apprentice Erik. He had been heartbroken by her choice and she had wanted to comfort him, to tell him he was going to make a great healer after she was gone. She let go of her apprentice and opened the door to a massive warrior in full gear, his long ceremonial spear at hand. His name was Rugar, he was the First Warrior of the Clan, and Commander of the Royal Guard.
Aeva herself was tall, but she was no match to the sheer height and the size of that mountain of a man. He had the rugged face of an experienced fighter, piercing blue eyes and long blonde braided hair falling on his back. He wore the ornate leather cuirass of the Royal Guard over his powerful chest, topped by a fur collar and a cape. War paint had been smeared on his prominent cheeks and over his many-times broken nose. He was drenched as he entered the room, his braided locks seeping water and sticking to his heavy cape. His strapped boots were covered in thick sludgy mud. He waited for the comparatively frail, sobbing Erik to carry the last of the healing supplies out and exit the hut, before addressing Aeva.
- “It is time.”
- “I am ready.” Avea replied calmly.
He bowed to her, a rare gesture from the Commander of the Guard.
- “It is a great honor to walk you to the Gods. I am humbled by your choice to offer your life to the clan. I speak in the name of the Royal Guard, when I say we will remember you as a fallen warrior, Laoch Aeva”
- “Thank you Rugar.”
She was touched by his words, addressing her as Laoch, as a Warrior. She knew the Royal Guard understood the meaning of sacrifice. She could not however detect the faintest touch of empathy or compassion in his eyes. He was a man of duty before everything else, and he was showing her the same kind of respect he would show to an opponent on the battlefield, before splitting their skull with a swing of his ax. He had been tasked to bring her before the Gods, through a harrowing ritual, and this was exactly what he intended to do. And if a Sacrifice required brutal cruelty, then she could be sure he would show her no mercy.
A shiver coursed through her spine with that thought, while at the same time another wave of heated lust pulsed between her legs, although this time it was mixed with palpitations of anxiety. With the embodiment of her fate standing right in front of her, ready to take possession of her, the next steps were slowly turning in her mind from a distant fantasy to a threatening reality. She could feel the fear begining to take hold inside of her. A small voice in her mind started to doubt if she would be able to keep her dignity through the ordeal. She took a deep breath, gathered her strength and repeated, as calmly as she could to the imposing warrior standing in front of her.
- “I am ready.”
Wanting to show her composure and determination, she took a step towards the door. He stopped her.
- “By our laws, you are to leave your clothes, your shoes and any personal effects in your hut. Everythings has to stay behind.”
She paused and nodded, keeping a calm appearance. But inside her fear grew, she knew she would never wear clothes again, she was one step closer to the precipice of her fate. She moved away from the door, and started to unwrap the bands covering her arms, revealing more scars of her past. She peeked towards Rugar, whose eyes were fixated on her. She thought for an instant of asking him to look away, but she quickly realized it would not only be futile, but in truth she wanted him to watch as she disrobed for the last time in her life.
There would be something liberating about revealing her marked body to the strong warrior. All her life, she had kept the sexual pleasure she took from punishment a secret. And she had always feared to be discovered, judged, ostracized, surely banished or worse by the very people she loved and the clan that was everything to her. With her choice she could finally drop the mask and still retain the love and respect of her people. And she had faith at least Rugar would spare her any judgment. He had pledged his respect and he was a man of his word. Maybe it was strange, she thought, to care about the consideration of a man who was going to walk her to an excruciating ordeal, and who would surely spare her no torment along the way. But it mattered to her. By his function and his rank, he represented the clan, the strength and courage of her people. Finally, she did not need to hide who she was.
She removed her boots. Taking a deep breath, she untied her robe and stepped out, letting it fall onto the wooden floor. And there she was in the open, her pale body fully exposed. Her long legs, the curves of her abdomen, thin despite her age, plunging between her hips into her clean shaven sex, a habit she had maintained even after her husband had passed. Her heavy white breasts were not quite as firm as in her prime, but they were still magnificent, proudly rising on her toned chest below her collarbone, framed by the wide shoulders of a woman of the north. Her long brown hair ran down on each side of her freckled face, her beautiful brown eyes giving a vulnerable look to the strong warrior, expressing both fear and resolve at the same time.
Unlike King Silas, the Commander of the Guard did not flinch at the view of her marked body. Just as she had expected, there was no judgment in his eyes. He was motionless at first, but then his gaze dropped to her neck. She understood, and removed the green stone pendant from her neck. It was a gift from her father, a precious stone from a faraway land that he got her when she was just a girl. She looked at it for a long moment, basked in its reflections one last time, and then delicately placed it on her table. She would be stripped of everything she had ever held dear.
She turned back to face Rugar, her hands at her sides, and she stepped towards him fully exposed, offering herself. He took possession of her by firmly grabbing her shoulder in his leather-gloved hand and pushed her towards the exit. When they got to the door, he paused.
- “Hear that after we cross this threshold, the well-loved and respected healer will cease to exist. In her place will be a prisoner, an offering to the Gods, whose only purpose is to be Sacrificed to their will. I promise to you that after you pass, I will keep true to my word and honor you as a fallen warrior. But as long as you stand, you are stripped of your rank, of all your rights. You owe absolute obedience. You will only know pain and suffering, until the Gods claim you to the Otherworld. Do you understand?”
Another shiver ran through her spine, another step towards her fate. She took a deep breath before answering.
- “Yes I do… Please proceed.” She added softly, touching the top of his hand on her shoulder.
She was now his possession. The respectful treatment had been short-lived. Although there was no doubt in her mind that Rugar would eventually honor his word, she knew with absolute certainty that in the meantime, the Commander of the Guard would fully embrace his role. He pushed her out the door.
Water was pouring stronger than ever, it seemed. Her tall, pale body was soon drenched by the cold rain. With senses heightened by the prospect of her fate, by the fear building in her core and the deep arousal in the base of her loins, she could feel every drop of cold water pricking her sensitive skin. Her naked feet froze as they sunk into the mud with each step she took, as she walked away from her hut. The tight grip of the Commander’s hand on her shoulder led her to a group of guards facing her home. As soon as they reached the men, she felt Rugar pushing down with a loud imperative:
- “Kneel!”
She hesitated before bending her knees, which apparently did not satisfy her new custodian. The next thing she felt was a powerful strike on the top of her calves that sent her down in a shried of surprise and pain.
- “Aaaah!”
She had received the hefty shaft of his spear in full force. Before she could catch herself, another hit landed on her back, across her naked shoulder blades. She fell forward, and only avoided crashing face first in the sludge for the tight grip of the guard on her wet hair. He twisted his wrist, wrapping the length of her dark, damp hair around the back of his hand, and with a violent gesture made her turn around on her knees in the cold mud. A warrior walked behind her and she felt her arms being pulled in her back. Her wrists got tied together so tight that the pressure between them hurt. Her hands would soon go numb, she thought. Rugar jerked her hair back, forcing her face up.
- “Look!” He said, “As your sacrifice begins.”
Helpless, she observed two groups of warriors each carrying a heavy wooden barrel towards her hut. The first group stepped through the door, while the other pried open their container outside. They started to slather what looked like a mix of oil and tar onto the walls and thatch of her house. They used a generous amount. She imagined the first group was doing the same inside, vandalizing what had been her shelter, her heaven, the safe and intimate home she had lived in all her life. The guards outside smeared the full barrel’s content and waited, until the others came out of the house. When they did, they were carrying a lit torch, and a warm light was shining behind them through the opening of the door. The destruction had started, and with it, her guts tightened into a painful knot.
The guard with the torch, walking along the wall, brushed it against the smears of tar and finally threw the torch onto the thatch roof. The rain was so thick that the fiery stick fizzled, but the walls and the insides had caught well, and soon a roaring fire was ablaze engulfing more and more of the healer’s hut. All the while the guards and the kneeling, naked and beaten woman watched, as if hypnotized by the flames under the rain. Around then, a crowd of onlookers quickly formed to witness the unlikely spectacle of a fiery inferno in the midst of catastrophic deluge.
Aeva felt as if she was being gutted. This had been her family’s house. She had grown up in this hut, she had childhood memories in every nook and cranny of the old wooden home. It had been filled with laughter. And when she had met Sigur, he had built a house for her parents on the outskirts of the village and he had moved in with her. It had been filled with his presence, his scent when he was returning from hard labor. So many times, she had let him overpower her, and he had punished her willing body before making love to her. So much of her life, her true uninhibited life was inside these walls. And it was all being taken away, destroyed, erased. It was the law of the clan, the sacrifice had to be total. For the first time, a physical sense of dread sunk into her.
With it, a vivid image flashed in front of her eyes. There was the shaman of the time of her youth. She could see his face clearly, as if he was with her today, and she was again mesmerized by the fanatical light in his eyes. She had sought his knowledge, eager to learn about Sacrifices, and he had obliged.
- “You see, maiden, a Sacrifice is much more than simply taking a life. We appease the wrath of the Gods with this act. You must understand that our ancestors were proud warriors from the North, who roamed the seas and the lands. They went to war for plunder and glory.”
She knew he had never experienced this time of legends, And yet a warm passion animated his voice.
- “The gods still expect this bravery from us. However, today the men of our clan have become weak and don’t know the honor of drinking the blood of our enemies.”
He seemed genuinely dismayed but this sad state of affairs.
- “It should be no surprise then, that the wrath of the Gods should fall upon us. And when it does, they demand a Sacrifice. It is then up to one of our own to carry that penitence. They must bear on themselves all the destruction our warriors should deservedly unleash onto our enemies. As we fail to burn, pillage and slay our enemies, so we must inflict onto the offering.”
He calmly continued, as if the logic of his reasoning was perfectly natural.
- “It is an act of abnegation. For the offering of course, it goes without saying. And also for the shaman, the warriors and the King, who must submit to the will of the Gods and inflict the punishment. And for everyone in the clan. Everyone must do their part, as together we purge our cowardice and ask for the mercy of the Gods. This is the toll we must pay, so they will grant us their peace and bless the clan.”
There was one sentence that had turned into Avea’s mind. “As we fail to burn, pillage and slay…” And she knew exactly what pillage meant for the offering she now was. “The rock turned red between her legs…” had said old Sarah. These words she had heard a long time ago were becoming real. The fear was growing again, taking hold of more of her body, for a moment it seemed it might outpace the lust throbbing between her legs.
Meanwhile, a heavy chain had been wrapped and secured around her neck. As a tug failed to extract her from her thoughts, the heavy shaft of Rugar’s spear crashed once more across her back, shaking her entire frame.
- “Walk!” Rugar ordered her.
She attempted to lift herself. Perhaps again, she had been too slow. A powerful kick to the side slammed onto her and shoved her off balance. The chain on her neck tightened and caught her full weight, cutting her breath and jerking her head so violently she thought it would be snapped off her body. She fell, stunned, coughing and hurt, unable to catch herself with her wrists tightly bound behind her back.
- “Can’t stand anymore, slave? Get-up and walk!”
Aeva could not have said if this was an act to Rugar. His voice was savage and terrifying. It would not suffer any challenge. He spoke with the authority of the Guard, the clan and the King. What he said defined what she did and who she was. Her past self did not exist anymore. In the span of only a moment, she had lost everything. And soon she would lose more.
Painfully, with her neck strained, her side and her back hurting, the soaked, mud covered naked girl, bare feet, chained and bound, lifted herself up and put one foot in front of the other. Cold water poured from the sky and dripped all over her dark hair and pale, shivering body. This time her brutal fate was upon her. She wondered if Rugar knew, if anybody could see, that some of the drippings between her legs were not from the rain, but from the juices of her own twisted lust.
. My mind (and my writings) do tend to naturally drift towards this "extreme/consensual" theme. I do hope this direction will not impact too much your reading experience and the sadistic enjoyment of Aeva's fate. That being said, there is a world of hurt between what she has previously experienced and what she is walking into... so I am not above kicking in some fear and reluctance later on...
