The Aftermath

Sometime during the brutality of Loki’s taking of her, she lost consciousness. It was Inga & Cnut, who found her the next morning. When the twins awoke early in the morning and Lia had not appeared to nurse them, Inga had come looking for her. When she did not find either Jor or Lia in their chamber, she got worried and woke Cnut. Muttering about his brother, he slapped Blood Puddin’s ass to wake her and dressed while both slaves waited. “You say they were not in their room?” Cnut turned, eyeing the blonde slave. “No Jarl, it looked as if it had not been slept in at all.” He shook his head and without another word walked out of the room. He headed out of the Hall and toward to the clearing just on the edge of the tree copse he had left the two in last night, figuring he would start looking the last place he had seen them before alerting any guards. It was Cnut who saw her first, slumped against the back of a fallen log. She had been tossed there like a broken toy a child was disgusted with, when Loki had finished with her. Cnut took a quick survey of the area but his brother was nowhere to be seen.

He may have looked like her mate, but he hadn’t been Jor, and she had fought him with everything she had. The result was not pretty, from what Cnut could see. She was naked with dried blood between her thighs and the cheeks of her ass. One eye was swollen shut, her lip split wide open and her throat bore the bruises of strangulation. She also bore bruises up and down the rest of her body, one arm hung as if useless and her foot appeared turned in the wrong direction, but she was breathing. Cursing his brother, he picked the woman up and made his way back to the Hall to treat her wounds. As he knew would happen, the sight of him carrying the naked broken body of the High Jarl’s woman had the guards raising alarms across the village looking for the assailant who must have assaulted Lia. Well maybe they will find my cursed brother out there. Cnut thought to himself even as he remained silent. The small party made it to the rooms Cnut used as a clinic. She moaned as he laid her on the cot up against the wall. Her good eye opened and she tried to focus as Cnut’s face swam into her blurry vision. “Jor...” the hoarse whisper escaped her lips more of a question than a statement and Cnut just gave a slight shake of his head. Their eyes met, and not unlike the look exchanged when he had left her in the clearing the night before, the two spoke volumes to each other without a word being exchanged. She sank back and whimpered when Cnut started poking at her side and feeling along her ribcage. She took a sharp intake of breath, pain flashing across her features. Cnut once again began cursing and snapped at Blood Puddin’ to get splints and rolls of bandage. He knew she would heal, she had an uncanny ability to heal easier and slightly faster than most, something he had pressed Jor about once, and had gotten “she was made that way,” as an answer. He had not understood what it meant, and he had seen his brother inflict some damage on the woman, but never to this degree. He was reminded of the damage inflicted on his slave by the crew of the ship those first few weeks she had been captured. That his brother had done this to Lia meant he had truly snapped, or she had instigated his wrath in a way, very few survived. He tended the wounds, the broken ankle and arm he set in splints, he had the slaves hold her while her wrapped her ribs, which he suspected were cracked if not broken. She was not spitting or coughing blood so he was fairly there was no damage of a lung puncture. He then gave Inga a salve to put on the bruises and cuts and motioned Blood Puddin’ to heel him as he left. “Inga, only watered down mead for her, no food yet. And not a word to anyone about her, or the High Jarl, not a word! I find out either of you two bond-maids so much as whisper this ‘gossip’ I will have both your tongues by sundown. Understood?” “Yes Jarl!” the two slaves parroted each other immediately both staring at him in fright. “Only yourselves are allowed in here either.” He frowned then and turned to his slave. “Go get Stigaard, tell him I need him and no one else. Bring him here. Har-ta!” The red headed slave scampered off to do her Jarl’s bidding and Cnut then shut the door to the room standing outside it to wait. Stigaard arrived with ehns a questioning look to his brother. “Your bond-maid said it was urgent. What is going on? I heard Lia was attacked? Where is Jor?” Cnut silenced him with a wave. “Guard the door, only myself or her slave goes in. I am unsure what has happened, brother.” He then looked his brother in the face and lied. “Jor is out searching, I am sure we will know more once he returns. I will be back later to check on Lia.” He then turned and stalked off to find Jor himself.

Lia said nothing while her slave tended to the bruises. Her mind was trying to piece together the insanity of the previous night, but both it and her body were in a state of shock. She hurt everywhere. She remembered fighting Loki, fighting as she had never fought before. But her mind kept coming back to it was Jor who had raped her so violently, whom she had fought as if her life depended on it, yet it wasn’t Jor. He had done this to her, but hadn’t. Her mind was having a difficult time rationalizing what was witnessed, against a lifetime of conditioning and attitudes about gods and men and truths that don’t fit into that dogma. She had dreamed of him, long before he manifested, Jor spoke to him all the time, it was hard to say something doesn’t exist, when the proof it does, is written in bruises across your skin. She had seen the battle Loki had to fight to keep in control of Jor, she remembered how the harder she fought, the harder Jor fought, and the angrier Loki became. She had inflicted damage too, she thought. She had dried blood caked under her finger nails and two of the nails were gone down to the nub of her fingertip as if torn off. But all of this seems to just highlight the fact something had possessed her mate. Someone. She shuddered then groaned in the pain that swept over her. It had not been Jor’s blue eyes that bore into her own, but ones that were black, fathomless, and burned with fire and even now in the back reaches of her mind threatened to engulf and swallow her. Demanding to take what had been promised to him. Was he gone? She was almost terrified to find out, yet at the same time needed to see Jor, her Jor, needed him so badly she started to cry silently. She was a strong woman, had been through much in her many years. Things that would have broken lesser willed women, slavery, gang rape, violent beatings and mutilation, the loss of a child, the death of a life mate, abuse. Each had put a brick in a wall of strength that fed her and kept her both free and a woman worthy to stand beside a powerful man. Had it doomed her as well to be the pawn in a game of deities? She sank back against the furs with a sigh and drifted off into a restless slumber, with a silent prayer to Hel, to keep her safe in her dreams.

A City Burns

 -Lia had been busy, both before she and Jor left, and even more so since she had convinced Jor to allow her and one ship to return to Port Kar for the Caste meeting, her last, as she finally retired. Kings she hated this place so badly. It festered in her, maybe she had truly begun to see it through Jor's eyes, and not ones blinded by love of a rock. A rock that when she really truly thought about it, aside from her five children all being born Karian, had given her nothing but pain and suffering almost as long as she had sworn to it. She had left twice, the first time with Hades too many decades ago to count now, then with Nazarus several years ago. This, her third time, would be the last. She never should have come back. She should have listened to Hades and stayed in Kassau and never come back at all, no matter how many times Thorin asked her. But she had not, she had pleaded with Hades to let them come back. He might be alive today perhaps, if she had left it alone. He had stayed on Thassa constantly because he hated the city too, she was sure it was why he had died. She never should have come back after she left with Naz and the Black Fleet, but she did, because she was hurt, had thought she should, because she wanted to right a wrong, and she thought she could make a difference. How disillusioned she had been. Naz, she had not seen him in a long time, but suddenly her mind went back to the night he left Port Kar, right after that fateful Council of Captains meeting, when everyone thought he would be arrested. He escaped by setting a small fire, using the smoke as a screen to get to the docks and out of the city, never really intending for anything to burn, because fire, it was dangerous in Port Kar. Such could be deadly, what with the overcrowding, and the buildings all compressed together and the squalor. Yes, a fire would be quite devastating. She twirls the leather bracelet on her wrist, the one given to her by Mae four years ago after that fateful reading. She was to throw it on a fire to aid in her escape, the night she saw a blue halo around the three moons of Gor. That night had come and gone and there had been no need of the bracelet. What with it's tiny glass bead of oil. Oil, Mae had said it would be explosive. Yes it could work. The more she thought about it the more the idea solidified in her mind. Finally she formulated a plan which would ensure she never came back to the cesspool that is Port Kar and she would leave wreckage in her wake.

She had over the last several hands gotten everything she owned out of Steel Nykus. Most was heading north with Jor and her children. But some was sent to the family estate in Ar. Scrolls were sent out. She took care of the transfer of all her property to her son, and her ships to Jor, then a scroll was sent to Kol, her man at the slave house in Ar, and though what he read shocked him, he did as instructed. First burning the scroll, then he contacted a friend, making a discreet inquiry about hiring mercenaries. Catron, Kol's friend said he knew just the  man, Torrence, an outlaw, who had once been First Sword of Ar Station. Kol told him what was needed and Catron with a wicked grin and a gleam in his eyes, said he could handle the arrangements. A time line was set, a deadline, an ahn set for a signal. The targets not placed but an ahn before. The beauty of the plan is that no one beyond Kol knew Liandrin was involved at all. Kol presented the plan to Catron as his idea. A way to get back at a city both men had a dark history with. Catron indeed made good on his promise. Taking it upon himself to seek Torrence out personally. The men, also long time friends, enjoy a bowl or two of paga, the services of two slave girls and then spoke long into the night about the plan Kol had brought to Catron on how to destroy Port Kar. Torrence, had a particular hatred for several Karians, and the more he heard, the more plausible it seemed to be. He agreed to the hiring of his band of men at the price of 50 double gold tarn disks per man, given the odds of getting out of Kar would not be as favorable as getting in.

The plans were set, gold exchanged, and the band of 11 mercenaries made their way to Kar. Their ship docked, and they all dispersed into the City, nothing but a crew on a merchant vessel like hundreds of other men in the City. Catron had a arranged for a different ship with a standard delivery of tharlarion oil and it was already docked and through inspection. The mercenary crew unloaded the barrels, then each of them placed barrel and crate clusters in strategic locations throughout all the City districts. Some barrels were placed in large crates themselves. Soon the Red Urt district, with one large crate right up against the back corner of the Spotted Urt Inn and a few others placed at other key locations such as near the thieves den, were all targeted. Then more placed in the market and shopping districts near several shops known to have lots of flammable materials: book stores, scribe and dress shops.  More barrels were set behind the Twisted Herlit, and the Many Pasangs Inn, several other paga dens and taverns, not even the Waterfront Cafe was spared. No one notices men that just blend in carrying cargo crates here and there, setting things down, then, even sitting on them and talking. One thing about Kar, crates and barrels are everywhere; in alleyways, behind shops, along warehouse walls, and dock pilings. No one notices them because they all look alike, no one different from all the others. Then several were placed in locations throughout the warehouse district, still more in the Rim canal region, and even the floating spice market and the 25th of Se'Kara monument. Finally barrels were placed on the docks as well. No area was spared. Everything set, the men retreated to sniper positions and awaited the signal.

Meanwhile the Quarterless, with its dark sails unfurled and catching the wind, glided easily out of the harbor. Once clear and entering the Tamber, Liandrin looked up and nodded to the man in charge of raising the flags. "Now Darion." The man pulled the flag down that bore the symbol pennant of her fleet, the scroll worm, and put up a different one, this one black with a red flame sewn on the center of it, and then a lit lantern was waved from the crow's nest three times only to be immediately snuffed out. She held a spyglass up and watched the docks. Within 5 ehn of the flag being raised, as if out of nowhere a flame lit arrow streaked through the darkening sky striking the barrel of oil there on the docks cleanly. It burned and another arrow streaked by,  This arrow was special. Tied to it was a small leather corded bracelet, holding a small oil filled glass bead. The arrow narrowly missed a drunken sailor weaving to his ship. This arrow hit the barrel again and suddenly as the wood burned and the oil inside heated, the glass bead burst, there was a odd popping sound, right as the barrel exploded spreading fire along the docks as other barrels placed here and there caught fire and exploded. The bracelet adding to the explosion, just as Mae had said it would when thrown into flames. That drunk sailor's screams were loud when his pants then the edge of his tunic caught fire. He jumped into the water of the harbor to put himself out. The explosion and fire rapidly engulfing the docks was the signal the mercenaries had been waiting for. Suddenly throughout the city flaming arrows hit their targets. Barrels burned, crates exploded and fire spread immediately. Barrels of oil had been leaked into the canals themselves which were soon also burning along the top of the water, setting the skiffs tied along the many canal pilings aflame as well. The band of mercenaries, made sure their bows did not survive the flames and blended in with all the rest of the people fleeing the fires to each make their way home as and when they could.

Chaos engulfed the city as the flames spread swiftly throughout the densely crammed buildings, businesses, and homes. Buildings everywhere were soon engulfed in flames, an intense heat radiated in the air as the city burned. Flames jumped with no care for what it destroyed, and it destroyed everything in its path. The Red Urt district was burning so heavily, Lia doubted there would be any buildings left intact. The screams of the citizenry fighting or being consumed by the flames, and the alarm bells that clamored alerting anyone not already aware of the impending doom, rang out over the water. But it was the way the burning city lit up the night sky, that had the tiny red head smiling as her ship sailed away, never to return. Mal gave her a look, one of those, are you sure you know what you are doing, looks. Ignoring him for the ehn, looking down at her now bare wrist, as Mae's bracelet is gone. She looked up to the sky again, those three moons were now haloed in an oil smoke haze, and fire. Mae was right, the bracelet had proven useful finally. Even in a way, aided in her escape, she would have to thank the Haruspex when she saw her again. She looked to Mal then and gave him a smile, one that was meant to reassure him, and ease his worry. Yes she had just set fire to the city, committing arson and vandalism and in the process renounced her Home Stone.  This time truly by her society's standards she is an outlaw. But where she was going in Torvaldsland, they did not believe in Home Stones or Caste, and Port Kar's laws only extend to its walls. So did it truly matter? It did not, Jor's people would not consider her an outlaw. As for Port Kar, those she cared about had been warned what was coming, though cryptically. A simple unsigned note that said "Beware of fire" sent to four specific houses besides her son's. She could only hope they survived the fire unscathed.

She had spent many years in the north with Hades, now she would make a life there again quite happily, with Jor. Her ship met up with his fleet at the rendezvous point and she switched ships, boarding his flag ship feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The huge man's gruff voice called to her. "You finally done with that sewer they call a city, Liandrin?" She moved to him, sliding her arms around his side. "I am..now take me to your homeland." The combined fleet of ships sailed north as the coming Spring melted the ice flows.-

Revelations

A good night's sleep. Sleep with no dreams. 

Whatever was in the horn Jor gave me, I am grateful. Kings those tonics of Cnut's are foul tasting though. The baby's nursemaid had the milk I had expressed to feed Loki before Jor carried me to bed. I had not realized how much I need a good night's rest, or how long it has been since I had one.

But even in the light of day and the discovery of the missing slave just does not ease the worries I have. I almost wish I didn't know. That I could remain safe in the surety that dreams are dreams, Gods are not real and I am safe and secure in my home and City.

But I cannot feign ignorance. My life was bargained with, a promise of blood for someone else's glory and power. That Jor hopes to find a replacement that matches the traits that in some cases are unique to me, is supposed to ease my mind? The fact the Trickster haunts my dreams at will, should let Jor know it will not be as simple as he hopes. They both seem to have disregarded my feelings in the matter completely. Of course they have I am but a mere woman, but not one that will lie down and just accept such judgments. Well Jor now knows I have no intention of dying, not for his glory or anyone else, not without a fight anyway. 

I have too much to live for. To much yet to do and see. I will not lay down willing to have my throat slit for someone's else's glory. I can see in his eyes he has no intention of giving me up either. So then why make the bargain? What changed? Does it matter? 

Jor says to not worry...but doesn't answer anymore questions. 

Thank the Kings for work, and my children. They keep me busy enough to drive these worries away, most of the time.

I am excited about my new position at the Magistrate's office as Lead Prosecutor, though it is a huge responsibility. Going against Nika is a challenge I am looking forward to. Damon keeps me busy as well, he has turned out to be a good man to work for.  The paper is a success that I am very proud to put my name along with the Caste's on. The Fleet has been raiding well.

I will concentrate on these blessings and try and let my worries go for now. 

At least until I dream again.

Deities, Dreams, & Riddles

Loki - God of Mischief

The maniacal laugh and glowing eyes that haunt my dreams wakes me around the 2 ahn of the morning. Laying there listening to the heavy breathing of Jor's sleeping form pulls the last fog of the dream from my mind and ears, but the rapid beating of my heart takes a few ehn more to settle. The voice says nothing but riddles about bargains and payments that make no sense to me and fade with each ehn I am awake. But as good as life appears, I just feel a cloud looming somewhere unseen.  A sudden fullness in my breasts draws me out from the warmth of the furs and to the nursery were our son is just stirring. Swaddling the infant in the plush pelt from his cradle and brushing my robe open he attaches his hungry mouth the offered nipple as I hold him to me. Quiet in the house is a rarity except during these early ahns of the day, a time of darkness and silence. There are no slaves bustling around, the men are abed, but the few scattered around the property on guard duty. I love this time, the darkness and quiet sooth my mind, body and spirit. The babe stirs and I stop to move him from the right to the left arm and breast, cradling his small form to me as he latches onto the nipple greedily to drink his fill. My steps as they always seem to, take me toward the garden. Stepping through the doors of the main room outside, a gentle wind lifts my unbound hair from my shoulders and brushes them in a cascade around the drinking baby.  There is this spot to the left down the path just a few steps, not far from the herb patch for the kitchen where the three moons when full can be seen in all their majesty. They are not full tonight only quarters, but the small garden, bathed in their silvery glow gives an almost mystical feel to the air. This spot is of  all in this rebuilt house, where I am most at peace. I can hear the lapping of the canals in the distance, but the scent of the flowers, herbs, and foliage perfumes the air around me in an intoxicating way meant to relax the mind. Loki released the second nipple and I moved him to my shoulder. We rock and I pat his small back until a healthy burp escapes his tiny lips. Still wrapped in the fur I lay the baby on the grass, closed my robe then laid next to him, pulling the child to me. The dew feels cool against my cheek and I can feel it seeping through the light rence of the robe beneath my hip and knee. I don't care. Staring into my son's small face I trace my finger along the fat cheek. Will he be the start of a new legacy? Will this small child grow up and meet his father's expectations? It seems such a large burden for such a small baby. To me  he is just a baby, helpless, mine to protect and nourish, Jor's to teach and turn into the man he expects. Will he live up to his name? Why did Jor name him after the God of Mischief? I sometimes wonder if that is an omen. Are his Gods real? Priest Kings are real, though not Gods, Kurii are real and not Gods either. Thirty years spent in Kassau, I am well aware of Jor's Gods, but do I believe in them? I am not sure what I believe. Loki stirs in the pelt he is wrapped in and with gentle coos against his tiny ear I lull him back to sleep. With such questions circling I scoop the baby back into my arms and rise. I close my eyes and inhale once more the perfumed and silver evening air and make my way back into the house. Loki is returned to his cradle in the nursery and I slip back into our room and onto the couch. Jor's breathing hasn't changed, still the deep steady breath of sleep, pressing against him I let myself drift off leaving questions of deities and riddles to another time.