Author's Note: This takes place in the same fantasy setting as my Duchess of Lust series, about ten years after the finale. However, reading that prior series is not a requirement to enjoy this new series. Some places, events, and characters from that first series are referenced, but this new series is designed to be read as a standalone.
For those who have not read the 'Duchess of Lust' series, it is an erotic political/war drama, set in a fairly standard fantasy setting akin to the Holy Roman Empire and Scandinavia of the medieval era. Although it is in a fantasy setting, the supernatural/fantastical elements are minimal for this particular series.
As an additional note for readers of my Duchess of Lust series: I have done a bit of a retcon, deciding to give a formal name to the northern barbarian lands. In the original series I just referred to it as 'the north' or 'the northlands.' To give it a bit more flavor, I've decided to call that region 'Kovgaard.' So any references to 'Kovgaard' within this new series will refer to the 'northlands' that were mentioned in the original series.
**
The iron prow of my longship crashed into the hull of my brother's vessel. Wood creaked and shattered. Bloodthirsty howls rose from the warriors aboard both ships. Screams drowned out the distant booms of thunder.
"Hoskuld!" I bellowed, shield and axe in hand. "Meet your doom with honor, dog!"
Shield and axe in hand, I leapt over the railing, my boots landing upon the rain-soaked deck of the enemy longship. Steel gleamed on all sides. Howling warriors closed in, their shields adorned with paintings of clan sigils and sacred runes.
My warriors flowed across to join me, as inexorable as the surging waves around us.
Once more I roared out my brother's accursed name. My axe splintered shields and limbs, batting aside spear-thrusts and desperate sword-swings.
A dagger skimmed across my ring-mail. I snarled out my brother's name, ducking back before the dagger could claim my flesh. My savage counter-swing tore open the dagger-wielder's throat.
Bodies and severed limbs flopped upon the deck around me. Wounded and dying warriors tumbled over the railing, embraced by the hunger of the sea. A wave crashed into the conjoined longships. A snarling foe tumbled into me; I grabbed him by the wrist, slashed open the back of his thigh, and sent him spinning over the side and into the churning depths.
"Anvarr!" a voice cried from behind me.
I spun, barely avoiding a spear-thrust that would have claimed my life had it not been for Orgumir's warning. After chopping the spearman across the chest and sending him sprawling, I gave the wiry old Orgumir a grateful nod.
A semblance of order settled upon the bloody deck. My followers assembled into a loose shield-wall, while Hoskuld's men staggered into a similar formation to face us. Corpses ruled the space between our battered, bloodied warbands.
"You missed me that much, brother?" a voice called, barely audible over the thunder and the roars of the sea.
The enemies' painted shields dipped lower, giving me a glimpse of the man I'd been hunting for weeks.
Hoskuld was tall and broad-shouldered, his beard and wild blonde hair streaked with blood and seawater. Hate and hunger gleamed in his bright green eyes. Our resemblance was so uncanny that even our mother had occasionally mistaken us for one another.
She would have made no such mistakes now, however. The half-healed, jagged scar along my cheek ensured that no soul would ever confuse me for my twin again. I'd earned that wound as a result of his treachery: it would serve as an eternal reminder of my brother's greed and foul ambition.
"No more of your men need to die," I snarled, rolling my shoulders and thumping my axe against my shield. "We can settle this. A trial of iron and blood. You can at least die with glory as a true man of Kovgaard. Your death can restore some honor to the clan as well."
Another wave sloshed over the side of the longships. Thunder boomed.
"Do you hear that, Anvarr?" Hoskuld said, pointing his bloody sword skyward. "Our gods growl in hunger. They gnash their teeth, eager to feast upon your soul. I think they have waited long enough for such a meal."
"Enough chatter," Orgumir growled, taking a step forward, interlocking his shield with mine. "You know he wouldn't fight you honorably anyway."
"Aye," I snarled. "But honor demands that-"
Lightning flashed like a spear from the heavens, striking the mast. Splinters rained down in the midst of Hoskuld's shield-wall.
A good omen from the gods. In gratitude for their favor, I'd send them my brother's soul.
I took a step forward. A great wave crashed into the side of the longships, forcing me back against Orgumir. Water splashed over our feet. Both shield-walls collapsed. Screams entwined with the roaring thunder.
Undaunted by the wrath of the sea, I regained my footing and charged. Hoskuld leapt over one of his men who'd lost his footing.
A moment before we met, another wave crashed into the ships. The hull creaked, then splintered. The mast shattered, tumbling down into the midst of both reeling warbands. Pain roared as my flailing brother's blade bit into my forearm.
I managed one wild swing of my axe, missing his throat by mere inches.
The deck gave way beneath me. The sea rose, the icy waters wrapping around my waist and dragging me into its hungry depths.
**
Water spewed from my lungs. The warmth of sunlight danced across my aching body. Desperate lurches of my arms brought me further up the beach. A thin trail of blood followed me across the sand.
Panting, I flopped onto my back and stared up at the sky.
Not a cloud in sight.
The storm had vanished within minutes of us all plunging into the sea.
Had the slaughter sated the thirst of the deep gods and thus spared us a greater storm? Had the gods' hunger claimed Hoskuld as well?
I hoped not. My steel longed to taste his flesh.
As I took in deep and frantic breaths, I caught the stench of smoke on the wind. Frowning and growling, I rose to my feet and glanced around.
I stood upon a beach of gray sand. Moss and weeds clung to massive, jagged boulders. Corpses and debris drifted in along with the waves. Around me stretched rolling, rocky hills and sheer cliffs of dark blue stone.
At the top of a nearby hill I could make out a few structures: all blackened, burned, and smoldering.
"By the fangs of the gods," I cursed. "Where am I?"
My hunt for Hoskuld had taken us far from our homeland in Kovgaard. Our longships had sliced south across the great sea, occasionally skirting the well-defended coasts of the northern imperial duchies. Had I washed ashore in imperial territory?
If so, I was in need of a weapon. Though the duchies and Kovgaard had been at peace since King Ulrik's failed invasion, tensions still lingered and northlanders were not always welcome in the south.
Staggering, I wandered along the beach and searched among the corpses. Almost all of them had lost their weapons upon plunging into the depths. One of them clutched a broken spear, while a second man still had a hatchet strapped to his waist.
I turned him over and flinched with recognition. The dead man was Amundar, a cousin of mine who had joined me on my blood-quest.
"You fought well, cousin," I said, patting his rune-tattooed cheek. "I will honor your memory with your steel and ensure that your soul is carried to your ancestors."
After tearing the hatchet from his belt, I murmured a prayer before collecting a few more supplies from the dead. In time I could return to put the dead to rest, after I had found other survivors and ensured a measure of safety for myself.
Grief would have to wait.
A trumpet sounded from the burned hamlet. Figures scurried amidst the skeletal ruins.
Four men trotted down the hill. All were armed with spears and axes, wearing chainmail and long green cloaks. Ash and soot stained their uniforms and half-helms. Upon their tabards was a sigil I hadn't seen before: a lion fighting a two-headed serpent.
Judging by their weapons and armor, these men were clearly southerners. I had landed in an imperial duchy or perhaps upon one of the island kingdoms scattered across the Talon Sea.
They stopped in their tracks, eyes wide.
More figures emerged from the burned huts. A dozen ashen men and women, eyes wet with tears. None were armored; all were dressed in simple, humble clothing that marked them as fishers or farmers. Among them were a few children who whimpered and cowered behind the adults.
"Who are you?" one of the soldiers shouted, jabbing in my direction with his spear.
"I am Anvarr, son of Eyvald and Valgerrd. I mean you no harm."
I gave another quick glance at the sobbing villagers. What had they done to deserve such cruelty at the hands of those soldiers?
"Bloody hells," another soldier hissed. "A fucking northman. Just what we need."
"Only one," said a portly bearded soldier, though he regarded me as warily as the others.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"You're on our island, savage," said a soldier as he and his comrades closed in "We ask the questions."
Once more my gaze flitted up to the onlooking villagers. As the wind picked up, something moved under the rafters of a burned barn; two burned, blackened bodies swayed in the wind.
My rage at Hoskuld had shifted to simmering embers after washing up on the beach. That fire now roared to life at the side of those swaying bodies. Despite the pain in my arm from the wound I'd suffered, my hand coiled tightly around the hatchet.
"I apologize," I said through clenched teeth. "I misspoke earlier."
"Oh? When?"
"When I told you that I meant you no harm."
Their eyes widened. I sprung forward, hatchet swinging. It caught a spearman beneath the chin before he had time to react. As he gurgled and fell, I snatched up his spear before it could hit the ground. A quick bob to the side spared me from a spear-thrust, and I plunged my own stolen spear into a second soldier's throat.
As he let out a bloody moan, I lunged forward and tore my hatchet free from my first victim's body, before ducking beneath an axe-swing. A wild chop of my hatchet tore into the man's boot.
