02

The Oswin Tales I

Desert Rats

I originally got into writing by writing fantasy stories, so this is my attempt of writing a fantasy series for Literotica.

This is going to be a longer series, almost a novel. It will be a slow burn with less sex scenes than normal, more focused on the actual story telling.

I hope you enjoy this different style of my writing and enjoy the ride.

Thank you to Oldbroad76 for editing.

CHAPTER I

Kael I

The plains on the hundred mile desert were usually filled with dry, orange sand. Now, they were soaked with the blood of a thousand men and Pakrias. Their bodies plagued the ground. With every step that Kaen took, the damp floor squelched against his leather boots.

His feet sunk slightly into the now wet sand as he watched his footing to not step on the recently deceased. As he moved, droplets of blood fell from his light, leather armour. His sword was stained red, and he sheathed it back into his belt.

After a few hundred yards he stood upon a dune, looking down at the death that surrounded him. The orange sun was sinking in the distance, and a cool breeze scattered sand across his body.

"Kael!" A familiar voice shouted, and as he turned to one side, Kael saw Connah running up to him, a bloodied sword in one hand.

"You made it then?" Kael shouted as his lips curled to a smile.

Connah's foot got stuck in a part of sand and nearly tripped before he reached Kael and patted him on the back.

"What are you doing up here?" Connah asked.

Connah was from the Cairne kingdom, which he blamed for his short stature and slim frame. He had short black hair and a shaved face, and the only thing upon his look was a scar going from this right temple down to his left cheek, a battle wound from a year ago.

The Cairne accent was a funny one that took Kael a while to get accustomed to since each sentence seemed to end in a high-pitched tone, as though they were always asking a question.

"Just observing." Kael told him.

"How many did you get today?" Connah asked. Even after battle, he was light-hearted and happy.

"Twenty, I think." Kael replied, he wasn't one to join in counting your kills like others in the union army.

"Damn," Connah said. "From what they're saying down there, I thought you killed hundreds."

Kael raised an eyebrow and looked at his friend.

"What are they saying?" Kael asked.

"The saviour of Haal plains, they're calling you." Connah laughed out. "Shame they don't know that really you're a twat."

Kael knew he should've laughed, but hearing about this reputation was not one he wished for.

He knew why they had decided upon this name for him. The human's scouts said there were only three hundred Pakria natives approaching, so that morning when three thousand turned up, the humans were prepared for a gruesome death.

Sure, humans were more organised and equipped with better weapons and armour, however one thousand human soldiers against three thousand Pakrias were not good odds.

Within an hour most of the highest ranked officers had been slain. Seeing their defeat imminent, Kael took charge of a unit, mounted a defence, and moved from there. In the end they managed to defeat the Pakria, effectively saving hundreds of human lives.

"Did Samuhal make it?" Kael asked, worry in his voice.

"I haven't seen him." Connah replied.

I hope he made it,

Kael thought.

For a few moments the pair stood looking out upon the battlefield as the sun set, turning the sky to darkness. Stars scattered in the sky like dust.

"Come on," Connah said and slapped Kael's back again, "I need a drink."

--

The next morning Kael was woken by an urgent hand opening his tents entry way. He sat up, sword in hand like always, and looked for attackers.

"Easy," Connah said, "someone's here to see you."

Kael rubbed his brown eyes and used his free hand to pull back his long, brunette hair.

"Here to see me?" He asked.

"Yeah," Connah said as he looked around to see that the tent was empty, "some high general."

Great,

Kael rolled his eyes,

some high born bastard come to bark orders.

He rose to his feet, towering over his friend. Connah may be short, but Kael was taller than most people and wider.

The tent entry way opened once more, and four men in full steel armour walked in. Steel armour was only for high borns,

not a scratch on them, why save the best armour for the men who fight the least.

Connah stood by Kael's side. Connah, who had been awake early enough to have a cotton top on while Kael stood there in simple shorts. His hairy body with a handful of scars was on show.

Three of the steel armoured soldiers stood tall with their hands on the hilt of their sheathed blades with a single man at the front. He had dark black hair that was combed to one side, clean shaven, and a smooth face. He had dark brown hair. Unlike the others, his armour had been decorated with six green stripes on the chest to signify his post.

Posh bastards,

Kael sighed to himself.

"Kael?" The General asked, and just that one word let Kael know that he was from the Manstel kingdom, his homeland, which concerned him.

"What's it to you?" Connah grunted back. His hatred towards high borns was nearly the same as Kael's.

The General sighed at Connah and turned his attention back to Kael.

"I wish to speak in private." The General spoke softly.

"I'm not leaving." Connah shot back.

Kael stood firm, hands clasped behind his back, unaltered by the high-ranking officials.

The General gave Kael a look, not a demanding one, more of a hopeful one to speak in private.

"It's okay," Kael whispered to his friend.

Connah gave a disapproving look before huffing and leaving the tent. Kael stood there with three heavily armoured soldiers and a General in front of him.

Not exactly in private,

Kael thought before the General nodded at his soldiers, and they too left the tent.

"My name is Jarlom," The General said, clasping his hands behind his back and walking towards Kael, "and you're 'the saviour of Haal Plains'."

That name better not stick.

Kael didn't reply, having nothing to add while the General began to pace around him.

"Many have heard about what you did in the battle yesterday," Jarlom continued. "Tell me, where did you receive training in commanding military units?"

Kael thought quickly about his answer, his lie.

"I just reacted, no training." Kael told him, making a point not to call him "Sir".

"Of course," Jarlom huffed sarcastically, "an unknown man with no prior military training, somehow leading an army to win a losing battle."

Kael felt a drop of sweat forming on his brow. There was no way that Jarlom would figure out Kael's secret, however Kael was anxious of anyone asking questions.

"Listen son," Jarlom said, returning in font of Kael and staring him in the eye with a blank face. "I don't care where you're from. That is not why I'm here."

"Why are you here?" Kael quickly replied, wanting to change his history from discussion.

"You're being promoted to captain," Jarlom told him, "for your efforts."

Kael's heart began to beat out of his chest, and his knuckles turned white behind his back.

"I don't want it." Kael told him.

Finally, Jarlom's straight face changed to one of confusion.

"You're denying your promotion?" Jarlom asked.

"I am not a leader." Kael firmly said.

Jarlom scoffed and continued to pace around Kael.

"From the stories I have been told, you are quite the leader," Jarlom continued, "taking charge, giving orders."

"I am not some high born man leading soldiers to their deaths." Kael told him.

This was met with a few seconds of silence, other than the General's footsteps moving around Kael.

"I know your type," Jarlom told him, although Kael rolled his eyes at the thought of any high born understanding him. "You hate the high born, the rich. You believe we have all been given our positions from birth, sending soldiers to battle like some game with no care for life."

He's not wrong,

Kael thought but bit his lip. He may hate high borns, but he wasn't dumb enough to say something that would put him in shackles.

Then the General stopped in front of him once more.

"I am not that," He said firm and true. "My family are of no rank in the Manstel Kingdom, which you are from, yet you would not know my name. I was not given my rank because of my birth. I have worked, I have scrapped and fought to get where I am, to make decisions for the better. I do not sit in a tent and eat and drink while my men die needlessly."

This was a first for Kael, someone of rank caring about his men. He also grew more nervous over the fact that the General already knew which Kingdom Kael called home, a home he hadn't seen in nearly 8 years.

"No smart comeback?" Jarlom asked. "Speak freely."

Kael unclenched his fists and held the General's gaze.

"In my experience," Kael said, unable to hold himself back, "high borns care little about the regular folk. Why would I consider you different?"

This brought a smile to the General's face.

A smile?

"I do not demand your respect or trust because of who I am," Jarlom told him, "and to speak honestly, I need neither."

"What is it you need?" Kael asked him.

Jarlom continued his pacing.

"I am told that you fight with a sword," Jarlom said, ignoring Kael's question. "Strange for a foot soldier."

"Is that a question?" Kael replied.

"Where did you learn?" He asked.

It was true, lower born soldiers fought with spears. Swords were only for high born. This question Kael had prepared for many times.

"My father was a blacksmith in James-Mere," Kael told him. "He taught me when I was younger."

Happy with his answer, Kael felt himself relax.

"Of course he was," Jarlom said with a laugh, tensing Kael once more. "Here."

The General handed out a piece of paper, and in his worry about being caught in a lie, Kael took it into his hand and began to read.

Reports of Pakria tribes forming together, an army is being gathered in the northern islands under one ruler.

It was a short note, but few words could strike great fear in the heart of men.

"The Pakria outnumber us a hundred to one," Kael said, "if they form an actual army, they will crush us."

"And you can read, interesting." Jarlom said and Kael cursed himself for being so foolish with this information.

Kael's face turned pale. Never had anyone showed such an interest in him or his talents. There was something different about Jarlom.

"I don't care about where you're from," Jarlom said, breaking the silence. "I don't care about your lies of your training or how you leant to read. I care that you're the man I need for a mission."

"What mission?" Kael asked, his heart beating even faster.

"If this information is true, like you said, we would be crushed," Jarlom told him. "I need more reliable information, but an army being sent west, deep into the heart of Pakria will be killed within days."

It's true, the Pakria may be unorganised and living as separate tribes. However, since this Holy War started, the humans had only gained a few hundred miles of land. The Pakria fought guerrilla warfare which held the humans back well.

"I am sending a small force," Jarlom continued, "six soldiers to sneak through the country unseen to gather the information that I need."

"If they are raising an army?" Kael asked.

"Exactly," Jarlon answered. "If it's true, then we either need to prepare a strong defence or withdraw altogether, which would mean a loss to the war."

A loss to the war was unthinkable. The Holy War had been going for nearly forty years. It was a way for the King of Kings, Leon Thine, to keep the 8 Kingdoms of the Thine Empire distracted enough to not fight each other. Without it, the Kingdoms could grow to start internal wars once again, something that had not happened since the Northern Kingdoms failed rebellion fifty years prior.

"So, where do I come in?" Kael asked.

"I want you to lead this group," Jarlom told him, "with the rank of captain or without."

Kael thought for a moment.

"You want me to take a team of six soldiers into the heart of Pakria for recon?" Kael confirmed.

"Are you not tired of the pointless battles?" Jarlom asked. "We all know that this war is a waste of time and life, only to stop more waste of life in our own continent. At least if you help me, you could be saving thousands upon thousands of lives that would be lost without this information."

"Can't you prepare a defence just in case?" Kael asked.

"I've tried," Jarlom told him, and his voice made Kael know it was true. It was the voice of a man tired of political arguments. "The rulers don't want to form a defensive without reason, they would rather keep attacking for more and more land."

That was the high borns that Kael knew of, only caring about land and not the people.

"I won't lead people to their deaths." Kael told him.

"Then don't," Jarlom replied. "For this mission I need men who can survive out there and I believe that you can help with that."

The thought was appealing to Kael, not fighting in battles for no reason. Instead he could go out and see the land that they were fighting for. He could complete a mission that would actually do good.

"Okay," Kael told him, "but I pick the team."

"Of course," Jarlom told him with a smile on his face, "this mission is of the utmost secret. Gather your men, do not tell them what for, and meet me on the dunes in two days."

With that the General left the tent, and Kael let out a sigh of relief. He had gotten past the hiccups in his lies and actually felt hope, hope for a battle worth fighting.

Connah entered the tent soon after and saw Kael.

"What's with the smile?" Connah asked.

--

The next day Kael met with Connah and Samuhal, who had survived the battle, in their tent.

Samuhal was from the Fair Kingdom, rocky filled lands, as was clear by his dark skin and long, platted hair.

He had made them aware of the mission, against the General's wishes, but he knew he needed their help to find the rest of the team. Once all set, they agreed to meet that night.

--

Kael stood with Connah, Samuhal and a man that Connah had found, a man named Alix from the Byron kingdom. They were similar people to the men from Manstel. Alix was short but still taller than Connah, and he was young.

Apparently, Alix was speedy with a spear. In his last battle it was heard that he managed to dismount a Pakria from a camel, mount it, and charged at the enemy, cutting many down.

"So, Samuhal," Kael said, "who have you got?"

"Come with me." Samuhal told him, their native tongue was not the same as the rest of the continent of Oswin, and he spoke with broken words.

They headed back towards the main camp until Samuhal stopped in front of a group of men in little clothing.

"Him." Samuhal said and pointed to one with a thick black beard and long black hair.

Kael was tall, but this man was a beast with shoulders nearly the length of his body.

"A fucking northerner?" Connah sighed, "You're joking."

Kael too rolled his eyes at the thought but then heard his father's words in his head,

the people of Oswin are one in the same, you should treat them as your equal.

Gods dammit,

Kael thought, agreeing with his father annoyingly,

a mix of fighters could be a good thing.

"I saw him cut a Pakria in half with his axe with one swing." Samuhal told them.

"He'll be trying to fucking cut us in half!" Connah argued.

Holding in his anger against a Kingdom he did not have a reasonable excuse to have, he walked towards the group of Northerners. They stopped their drinking and turned with angered looks to the group.

"What's your name?" Kael asked.

"What's it to you?" The black bearded man shot back, and the others laughed.

The other Northern men strode forward as if to fight Kael's group, who in turn stood their ground.

"I'm Kael," Kael told him. "I'm building a team for a mission, six soldiers, and I believe you could fit our group."

"Me? Fight with you?" The bear of a man asked.

"We're going deep into Pakria," Kael told him, knowing of the Northerners natural love for adventure and travel, "lands that no human has been before, and lots of killing."

The black bearded man smiled and threw his drink onto the sand by his feet.

"You want me to take orders from a southerner?" He asked.

Kael rolled his eyes once more. Manstel was in the centre of Oswin, but everything was south to the Northerners.

"No," Kael told him, "I'm no leader. We will go as a unit, as equals."

"You will never see us as your equals." The Northerner told him.

Kael thought back to one of his father's lessons. He hated to, but his father's words came out.

"When you joined the Holy War, all of us, we left our history at the docks," Kael told him. "Where we're from, what we've done, none of that matters. We fight together as one people, which is what our unit will be, equal."

The Northerner appeared unfazed by Kael's words. Without saying anything else he turned away and went back to drinking with his friends.

Kael turned back.

"That didn't go to plan." Kael said.

--

The next morning Kael was searching for another member of their team. He had asked for stories of soldiers doing awesome feats, not brute strength, but they needed subtlety.

Which led him to seek out one soldier going by the name of Exi. From what Kael heard, he was a master of short swords, which was strange in the army but could come in handy.

There was a story of a battle where they took on nearly twenty Pakria with two short swords without taking a single cut.

Kael approached another soldier, one he had fought a handful of battles with.

"Exi in there?" Kael asked and gestured towards a battered building that had been slightly remade into a tavern.

"Yeah," The soldier replied, "just, keep your wits about you with them."

Kael didn't think much about the soldier's warning and headed inside where the tavern had a dozen or so soldiers drinking and shouting. All went silent as Kael entered and had to duck his head down to get through the doorway.

With so many pairs of eyes on him, Kael puffed out his chest.

"I'm looking for Exi?" Kael asked.

The group looked among themselves, and then a few slowly parted ways, and a figure emerged.

"I'm Exi." A soft, feminine voice replied.

Kael had to rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly. There were no laws against women joining the Holy War, however it was very uncommon, especially for one to have the renown that Kael had heard about this Exi.

She was a short woman, 5 foot 5 at the most. Her hair was shaved short, but it was a deep red colour that practically glowed. She was thin, emphasised by her tight leather clothing which gave a hint of a smaller cleavage. Her skin was pale, almost milky, which made her blue eyes shine bright.

"You're Exi?" Kael asked, finding himself on the back foot looking at this pretty, young woman.

As he looked upon her face, he couldn't see a single imperfection. She had a chiselled jawline, a handful of freckles across her nose, and long eyelashes.

She's so young.

"How old are you?" Kael asked without thinking.

Exi's eyes tightened as she tensed up.

"At least buy me a drink first." She joked out and was met with a room of laughter.

Kael felt nervous. He had run headfirst into armies without a sweat of fear, yet the look of a pretty woman had his mouth dry and his hands shaking.