The Book of Sofia - Chapter 2

The air was humid. Almost choking.

Or is it blood? It certainly did smell of copper.

Claus opened his right eye. His left eye was so swollen that he couldn’t even feel it anymore. The goddamn Hidzaps had tied him and hung him from a hook. Like some pig or cow, waiting to be butchered. The putrid mixture of sweat, blood and urine trickled down his naked body, forming a disgusting puddle on the marble floor.

The nightmare began the night Visius captured Claus. Visius tricked Claus to ride home by sending him a false message that Leonelle was held hostage in his own residence. Claus would not hesitate to ride home that very night, even if he knew Visius was waiting for him. But what had become of his Leonelle?

Was she threatened? There must be a reason.

Visius was eager to show the world his new prize. He did not hesitate to boast his pride. Claus had been paraded from the gates of Bacharik to this captured castle. He was hung on the hook and tortured. Claus lost count of days and night. He was whipped, beaten, branded by hot metal, and starved for days before being forced fed with boiling rich food. But Visius kept him alive.

“Beg me to kill you,” Visius had once whispered in his ears.

Never.

He would not give this savage his satisfaction. He would rather suffer a long painful death from a festered wound than let Visius have the satisfaction of hearing him beg for mercy. He would not yield. He would not be broken.

A chain rattled. The oaken doors of the hall swung open, admitting Lord Visius in his golden robes. Lady Leonelle followed behind him. Claus saw that she had forgone the Rafeh’s royal fashion and took up the Hidzap fashion. Her long golden locks were braided and wound around her head. She looked like she was wearing a hat made of her own hair. She wore a blue Hidzap gown, bringing the colours out from her eyes.

The love of my life, he thought.

The woman who betrayed me.

“Dear Lord Claus, how is your stay here so far?” Lord Visius strode to the centre of the hall, with his entourage of guards and his new mistress.

“I hope you are enjoying my hospitality as much as I enjoyed it.”

Claus spitted at Visius. It missed narrowly.

“What a pity you missed. Does my guard not feed you enough for spittle? Or did you retch all the food leaving you nothing to spit? Should I have my cook boil you more something nice and warm?” Visius laughed. He grabbed Leonelle and kissed her.

Take your filthy mouth off her. He wanted to scream at them, beat Visius bloody with his bare hands. His throat was dry and hoarse, his body was weak from the torture but his eyes harden with hatred.

“Leonelle here is a fine piece of work. I can see why you gave up your kingdom for her. I would love to tell you about the deeds she had done in my bed. But that wouldn’t be fair to you, would it?”

Visius tore the thin silk holding up Leonelle’s breasts, spilling them into his hands. She was surprised but she whimpered when Visius cupped her breasts. Then he fondled her, pinched her nipples hard and slid his hand down her back. Leonelle arched her head back and moaned with pleasure.

“Last night, as I was… enjoying the company of your wife, I thought of how useless my guards are at torturing you. But then I realized… I have not used the most powerful tool I possessed to break you,” Visius forced Leonelle on her knees and closed his eyes while she took him into her mouth.

Claus thrashed and kicked against the chains that held him. He felt his fingernails clawing into the iron chains. His entire body was on fire. He screamed with his dry throat and felt the sand burning in his lungs.

Gods be good, let me die before he touches Leonelle.

Visius was pleased at the sight of a warrior, calmed in the face of pain and death, yet thrashing like a mad dog as he took his woman. Visius bunched Leonelle’s gown up to her waist, exposing her willing wetness. He loved how Claus growled at the sight of Visius slipping his fingers into the whore’s wet cunt. Then he took her, right in the middle of the hall, with Claus’ painful eyes watching them.

Claus felt the pain stabbed into his heart with every thrust Visius pounded into Leonelle. Yet, she moaned with pleasure, swaying her hips with his rhythm, her eyes staring at Claus, with no sign of remorse.

How could she?

When Visius was done with her, Claus was a broken man. Leonelle had broken his soul into a thousand pieces. Claus did not want to live anymore. Not with the love of his life giving him away to his enemies.

“Well, Lord Claus, I have never seen a man so broken. Like a wild stallion being broken into a tame filly!” Visius snickered.

Kill me please, Claus screamed silently.

The Book of Sofia - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Henrietta pulled her cloak up to her chin, trying futilely to protect herself from the cold wind. She held a dirk in her hand, wiping the goat’s blood off the blade. Poisoned wine, she thought. A great general captured by poisoned wine. Almost foolish. She brushed a strand of stray hair from her eyes. The wind was strong tonight. Maybe there would be fog tomorrow night, she hoped. That would make our tasks much easier, she thought.  

“Piper, get in here. The master wants a word,” bellowed Jack the Hammer.

She replaced her dirk in its sheath and stood up. She pulled the cloak around her slender body. The wind was blowing her red hair loose from its braid. Her green eyes stared at the moonless sky. Tomorrow would be another moonless night, she thought. She had seen sixteen winters and hoped that she would be around for the next winter. Poisoned wine, she thought, a stupid woman and poisoned wine.

She walked into the warm tent and sat next to Jack the Hammer and his beloved hammer. He named it Hammer, the greatest hammer to ever exist. Henrietta did not doubt Hammer’s strength, nor its owner’s strength. She had seen with her own eyes how Hammer crushed its enemies beneath the powerful anvil.

An old man cleared his throat loudly and a sudden silence blanketed the tent.

“Our beloved Prince Claus was captured by the Hidzap lord Visius seven days ago. The Great King Clintus has sent me to negotiate terms with Visius but all efforts were futile. His Magnificence commanded that Prince Claus must be returned to this kingdom alive. I have gathered you here, ten trusted men, to arrange a rescue mission,” the old man said.

The tent was silent, saved for the sound of Baker Two-Finger sharpening his long swords. Some of the men nodded, some were just silent and some looked at Talon, the leader of the company. Some of the men here served with Lord Claus before; many other younger ones, such as herself, had admired Lord Claus. No doubt, many would risk their lives to bring home their hero and their rightful ruler.

“What is the price?” bellowed Baker Two-Finger. “Is it land? A lordship? May I have me a little lord’s daughter to give me children?”

Baker Two-Finger was a baker before the War of Damp Motte. The men said that Baker’s family was butchered by the enemies while he was serving bread to the Lord of Damp Motte. When Baker learned of what happened, he was blinded by grief and rage that he killed the enemies by jabbing his two fingers into their eyes and dug out their brains, earning his name. He had since left Damp Motte and its ruins to join the company.

Victor of Evenstar stole a glance at Talon and kept his head low, concentrating his long willowy fingers on peeling his fruit. Victor was a common thief, caught stealing from Jack the Hammer. He was dragged to the centre of their camps, threaten to be smashed under the Hammer when Talon stopped them. Since then, Victor had put his little tricks to good use. But Victor still stayed away from Jack as far as he could.

Talon stared at Baker Two-Finger and said, “There will be no lands, no lordship, no wives. I chose the nine of you myself. There would only be honor. If you should fall, you leave behind a legacy that you saved Prince Claus.”

“What good can honor do me? Why don’t the Storm King send his own secret soldiers to steal the prince? Why send his little brother to hire sellswords?”Baker Two-Finger asked.

“For obvious reasons, we cannot send our own army into the lands of the Hidzaps. That would start a war,” the old master said.

“Then let war come to us. Claus will slay so many Hidzaps that the gods can bath with Hidzaps’ blood and turn the Green River red!” shouted Big Rudof.

Some of the men cheered and stamped their feet onto the ground. Henrietta thought these men were foolish. Listen to the old man, she thought, he is the brother of the king, uncle to the prince.

Talon stood up. The men instantly quiet down.

“The old master is right. We cannot afford a war. Ten years ago, the Hidzaps were no more than nomads and savages. Now, they hold the Mountains of the Yuran, the great land of Bacharik, and the Thrive. They surrounded us like rabid dogs, waiting to attack us and claim our lands. We cannot provoke the Hidzaps.”

 “Aye,” said Mizu the Shy. He drew his sword and stared at the glimmer of light reflected from the fire.

“I will bring home Prince Claus. And the head of Visius the dog.” Mizu spoke so softly that it might have been just a whisper, carried away by the wind. But all the men in the tent heard him.

“We start at first light,” Talon said.

Henrietta left the tent. She counted nine red arrows in her quivers. Eight for the men, should they fall into the hands of Visius, and one for Lord Claus, should they fail to bring him home. She put the quiver of red arrows next to her quiver of white goose arrows. May the white arrows strike as many Hidzaps as they can find, she thought. She fingered her dirk again. She hoped she need not use the dirk but she had no intention of being captured alive.

She packed her quivers and saddled her horse.

Henrietta wasn’t always with the company. She was not born a sellsword. She was the daughter of Lord Yoseph Vivlio and his mistress. Being a bastard born, she was hated by the Lady Vivlio. But her mother was Lord Vivlio’s favourite mistress. Even his father’s other wives were afraid of her mother. But everything changed from the day her mother died. Lady Vivlio had cast her out on the street, cursing her dead mother, praying that the gods be good and let her die a crueler death than her mother. Weak and afraid, Henrietta who had only seen five winters wondered unknowingly into the woods. After three days, Jack the Hammer found her. Doppler, the medicine man, said that she was burning as hot as the smith’s fire when she was brought to him. He wasn’t even sure if she could survive the night.

But she did.

And the men took her in like she was one of them. Jack the Hammer taught her how to fight and Victor taught her his little tricks.

Amongst the sellswords, there was a man she loved like a father. The original Piper. He taught her how to shoot an arrow and gave her the long bow that she had came to love so much. He taught her how to play a pipe and how to stab a man in the heart. But on the eve of Henrietta’s twelfth birthday, Piper had vanished. No one spoke of Piper in front of her for a long time, until one of the men started calling her Piper.

She was the Piper now.

And the Piper was going to kill Visius come dusk. 

The Book of Sofia - Prologue

Roselle carefully carried the flagon of wine into the bath chamber of her master. She quietly sat down the flagon beside the meat and bread. Earlier that night, she was abruptly woken up by a servant boy at the commands of her mistress. Her lord master had returned home from a war. In the middle of the night and no welcome feast, she thought as she rubbed off her sleepiness. The servant boy gossiped to her that their master came home upon the message that his beloved wife, Lady Leonelle, was being held hostage by his enemies at his own residence. Only that the message was false and that Lady Leonelle was safely in her bed chamber.

Roselle stepped outside the bath chamber while more handmaids carried buckets of scalding hot water for her lord master’s bath. Her lord master, the great general Lord Claus, was finally home after 3 years of being away, at war with the Hidzaps. And the general wanted his wife’s company in the bath chamber.

Serving as Lady Leonelle’s handmaid, Roselle had to be careful of what she says or what she sees. She told herself not to remember what Lady Leonelle was doing when she was summoned to her lady’s bed chamber. My dear master Lord Claus loves his wife, he loves her enough to give up his kingdom for her, Roselle reminded herself. She told herself to forget that Lady Leonelle ordered her to sneak a naked man out of her bed, and to stall her master at the hall while she dressed.

There were splashes of water, sounds of moaning and grunting. Roselle blushed. It was not the first time Lord Claus and Lady Leonelle made love in the bath chamber. Roselle stood outside the bath chamber, thinking of her master’s love for his wife. I would never betray my Lord Claus, if only you would have me, she fantasized.

Lord Claus was the prince of the Storm Lands, born as the sole heir to King Clintus. But in his teens, Lord Claus fell in love with a common girl, a baseborn daughter of a kitchen wench. He married Leonelle and denounced his claims to his father’s kingdom. Out of rage, King Clintus disowned Claus in court. But Claus worked his way up the military rank, defeated great armies, conquered foreign lands and came home celebrated as the greatest general the Storm Lands had ever had.

Roselle’s trance was broken by a loud clang of the wine flagon onto the ground. Roselle stood up alerted. A few armored men walked into the bath chamber. One of the men put a knife to her neck and dragged her into the bed chamber.

Roselle was scared. Are these men assassins? Are they Lord Claus’ enemies? Are they going to kill me?

“My lady, you had done well,” the leader of the armored men said.

“My Lord Visius, I deliver to you the great Lord Claus, weak and naked in his bath,” Lady Leonelle laughed as she pulled her silk gown over her wet shoulder to cover her bare breasts.

Lord Claus sat slumped in the huge tub, eyes wide open with confusion, but too weak to move. He had been poisoned. By the woman he loved. The woman he raised from ground to be his wife.

“Why?” Lord Claus mouthed.

“Why?” Lady Leonelle snickered. “I like to win. Dear Lord Claus, you are fighting on the losing side of the war. The Hidzaps are winning. They have been raiding the Storm Lands while you are holding sieges, too soft-hearted to kill.”

“I raised you from the ground,” Lord Claus’ eyes were full of betrayal.

“Exactly. When you lose, or when you die, what do you think will happen to me? Your father will kill me. Or worse than that, I will go back to scrubbing pots and fetching water for mi’lady’s feet. I have risen too high to fall back to the hole where I came from. I am sorry my love, I am surrendering you to your enemies.”

Standing next to the door, Roselle was shaking in fear. Should she run to the hall, she might be able to call the guards and save her lord’s life. She pushed away the knife at her neck, swung a kick at the groin of her captor and ran like she never ran before. 

Her feet throbbed from hitting the metal armor. Yet, she ran. She ran to the hall as fast as she could. Then she fell. Paralysing fear engulfed her as she felt sticky liquid the smell of copper seeped through her clothes and filled her nose and mouth. She coughed. 

Blood, she thought, why is blood coming out of me?