Tartarus Beckons, Edmund Batara [bts book recommendations .TXT] 📗

Me again, Arn reflected as he left his hoe stuck on the ground and without a word, walked toward the gate. Arn do this. Arn do that. What am I? Their slave? One day, I’ll show them. I’ll show everybody who Arn is, and what I can do to them.

As he morosely walked to the distant forest, the resentment faded and was slowly replaced by the realization that he was indeed nothing. Just a mere peasant, a farmstead owner and a co-owner at that, trying to eke out a living on the edge of civilized lands, with death a constant threat. Jotnar, dokkalfr, bandits, wild beasts, and the occasional malignant forest spirit – all were threats continually hovering over their heads.

No! he wasn’t nobody! The wave of intense anger swept over Arn as he furiously kicked the ground. They all feared him at the end, didn’t they? Right before he slit their throats or crushed their heads. Gone were their dismissive, insulting words and derisive laughter – only abject terror remained. A nobody wouldn’t get such horrific reactions from his subjects.

There were militia detachments all over the area as the property the brothers had selected was still deemed barely tamed though not that close to the now expanded border touching parts of the Barren Lands, Ymir’s Domain, and the Northern Dvergar Range. It was a region already midway between being part of what could be described as typical human lands, unthreatened by the unknown and the known, and the dangerous areas which were just being settled. The more adventurous, though some say foolhardy, settlers preferred the latter. It did offer the first crack at claiming better tracts of land.

But that didn’t matter to Arn. As far as he was concerned, they were in barely settled lands. How he wished there were more people, that settlements were larger and closer together, and then Arn would be able to lose himself in the crowds as he indulged in his inhumanly perverse and cruel desires and diversions. Others might say they were incredibly evil acts, but he didn’t care. The extreme pleasure such amusements gave him was beyond description.

Arn finally noticed he was at the forest, at least where the trees began. A quick glance at his surroundings wasn’t encouraging – not a fallen dry branch in sight. The man cursed at the thought of going deeper into the woods. He cursed his luck as he adjusted the rope slung across his body. It was a friend and a confidant, a witness to his twisted games, it was an item he always carried with him. Deeper and deeper into the thick trees his steps took him. Finally, he halted and again looked around. It had been already several minutes and still not a kindling in sight. Arn lost his temper, and the nearest tree felt the force of another angry kick.

“Why so angry, my pet?” a soft voice called out. Arn spun around and saw a smiling woman watching him. And what a woman. Her carnal curves, the smooth and glistening tone of her ebony skin, the sensual patrician features, all instantly appealed to the lustful and evil beast lurking inside the man. He smiled back, the expression bordering on a dissolute leer. Then Arn caught himself as the inexplicable reality of encountering such a female deep in the woods rose in his mind. Fear and lust waged their battle in his warming loins, and in a short period, a sense of caution emerged.

“Who are you?” asked Arn warily.

“Why, my pet, your Lady, of course,” replied the mysterious visitor as she moved closer. Arn couldn’t help but notice that her feet didn’t touch the forest floor. Dread now spread throughout his entire being as his legs started to shake uncontrollably. Stories of dangerous creatures who infested the woods rose in his mind. Tales during drunken nights about draugr, hangbui, and even the lamia and vrykolakas of Hellas suddenly stood clear in Arn’s mind. The man backed away from the approaching entity, and when an inconvenient tree blocked any further progress, Arn sank to the ground and hugged himself. Lustful thoughts had long disappeared from his mind, and only dark terror remained.

“Why, Arn, are you afraid of me?” softly laughed the woman. The man’s head was now snuggled between his legs, and Arn’s were closed, his breathing fast and shallow. He felt cold. Very cold.

“You’re freezing, my pet. Let me warm you.”

The words furthered terrified Arn. More so when he sensed that the woman had also crouched before him. The woman was extraordinarily beautiful, Arn remembered, and the graceful movements of her arm as she moved was one trait which caught his attention. The image of the rope tightly binding those smooth limbs was the first thing that rose in his mind. Yet the terror that now engulfed him was instead filling his imagination with the most horrible face imaginable. Wasn’t that how these fiends entice their victims? A beautiful face, a beckoning finger, an enticing smile, all intended to tempt the careless victim into becoming an unwary meal.

He felt her arms embrace him and to Arn’s surprise, the chill he was suffering vanished, swiftly replaced by a soothing warmth. The woman took hold of his shaking shoulders and slowly lifted him up to his feet. But the man kept his head down, refusing to meet the eyes of the creature. Utter fear had nailed his gaze to the valley floor.

“Arn, my champion, look at me,” came the softly said yet imperious command.

Despite himself and the screaming of his addled mind, the man slowly looked up and met the woman’s gaze. It was sincere, wise, and kind. It was not what he expected. He was wrong, and Arn could lose himself in that wonderfully soothing gaze.

“Now, was that so bad?” said the woman in a delightfully melodious tone.

The captivated Arn quickly shook his head. A feeling of warm reassurance filled him. An impression that all will be well. Arn finally smiled