I breathe into her mouth and then pump upon her chest with the palm of my hands, fingers interlaced. After several attempts, a violent cough, a breath and then two or three follow up coughs splutter out phlegm. Her eyes open wide, lips drawn back as she tries to scramble away from me.

“I claim your spirit, serve me and I will return your spirit upon death, otherwise you will die spiritless and forever wander the endless black.” An otherworldly shockwave buffets my inner self. I feel her spirit presence within me and many strong emotions, fear, and resentment the strongest. This isn’t primitive superstitious pretence any longer – this is real. Is this magic? Questions for another time …

“There are no Klugite Priests? How is this possible?” she whispers in awe.

“I am the last in this valley and my mission is to search for more,” I reply.

“More …” She gulps. “More? Aren’t Priestesses enough to haunt the non-believers? How can this be right and fair?”

I am missing something important here, yet I don’t have the time. “Will you serve me, or will I extinguish your spirit?”

Still laying upon the riverbank stones, tears roll down her eyes. “I will serve, my life bound to yours, my strength is your strength.” She sniffs. “Master.”

Her eyes glaze over as I feel her spirit leave me, although not entirely. A faint shadow or hollow copy remains. I imagine via manipulation of this shadow her kissing me and shortly after I feel the press of her warm lips upon mine. I return her kiss fiercely, my arms around her waist pulling her into an unbreakable embrace.

A snorting whine, hooves upon stone break my trance and our embrace.

“Is that why he asked for one of mine, there is a way across the river nearby?” I ask.

“Yes, Master. He would try to capture you and if not, kill you so he could capture and sell those with you. It is the way of things.”

There is sadness in her voice. Probably once captured herself until her beauty and skills earned his attention and favour. Her position is no different now, she still has a master.

“You will pretend to have escaped from me yet sneaking away you didn’t notice your old master but eventually you make your way back to your sister companion. Return with her, armed and armoured and riding your beast. When you see me next you will know what to do.”

Her eyes sadly close and open. “Yes, Master.” She darts off using bush for cover, heading downstream. I didn’t ask her, her name … Shouldn’t I simply know? Perhaps the translation from superstition to practice lost some of the intricacies.

I shake my head to forget the omission and begin dashing from cover to cover to make my way back to my wives. Upon hearing voices, I sneak forward until I can safely observe him with my two wives.

“Where is he?” The impatience in his voice is obvious my wives don’t know, yet somehow, they should.

“You will need to be satisfied with us. Perhaps he has run away, afraid to face a fierce warrior such as yourself?”

Duzsia. She manages to keep any underlying mockery from her voice, yet I know she toys with him. Where does her confidence come from? He is still upon his boar steed, his spearpoint a hand width from her chest!

“Many do, yet I hunt them down all the same. A corpse can’t take revenge during the night or when you are weak after fighting other foes.” He slaps his saddle. “I like to tie up loose ends and your husband or son is a loose end,” he growls.

“We could go look for him,” offers Luda. She flashes him a smile when he looks in her direction.

He draws back his spear, his grip tightening and then he takes a deep breath. “A goblin jest of course … you really are a member of a simple race.” He plants the butt of his spear into the river rocks with a crack. Warning? Frustration? He then couches the weapon under his arm.

Tugging at the reins and using his knees he guides his beast towards the river. Head down the boar drinks while the hobgoblin rises from his saddle using his stirrups to look upstream and then downstream. Across the river, the two boars and his companion have either left or are in hiding as the bank is clear.

Satisfied he returns to our camp of sorts and stares in turn at Duzsia and Luda and finally nods his head. “Goblin cook something I am hungry.”

“My name is Luda oh great warrior.”

He bellows out a laugh. “I don’t care, now get to work before I spear you.”

“We were about to fish …” She spreads out her hands towards the river.

He leans down, resting his bulk upon the front of the saddle. “Fish? Pfft!” He reaches back into a saddlebag and brandishes a package. “Prepare a fire and I will share good boar meat with you if you cook well enough to please me.”

As he sits back in his saddle, proud as a provider can be Luda runs off in haste, surprising the boar rider. Before he can shout, Duzsia intervenes.

“She will return as soon as she has gathered wood, she especially likes boar meat.” And … what! She flutters her eyelids! Surely, he won’t believe that is sincere. I sigh, yep, he licks his lips. Such an overconfident ass.

The boar rider again rises from his saddle peering in the direction Luda ran off in. After several moments he grunts pushing the boar forward with his knees until he is within a hand width of Duzsia. His intense gaze falls upon her. “What do you offer? Apart from displaying your tits and arse?” He chuckles at his own joke releasing all the implied intimidation or so it seems to me. Duzsia remains calm.

“I guide my son using my wisdom.”

He huffs. “I thought you too … Never mind, apart from wisdom what else?”

“He keeps me young …” Duzsia sends him a sly smile and a sashaying hip.

His mouth gulps for air and his muscles tense before he exclaims, “Mother and son? Disgusting! Well, his death will see an end to your depravities, mark my words. What do you say to that?”

“Do I have enough wood?” says Luda with enthusiasm.

He looks over his shoulder in her direction and she is gone. Luda skips behind brush avoiding his gaze and appears next to Duzsia and slips her the sharp-cornered rock I selected, to Duzsia.

Jumping into his line of sight and holding up a bundle of kindling, Luda shouts, “Do I have enough wood?”

With his eyes upon Luda, Duzsia pats his beast, shaking her head and finally answers his question, “You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last.” Then a boot is on her shoulder flinging her away. Duzsia obviously decides she shouldn’t complete a tumble roll and end up on her feet, instead content to laze about on her back, legs apart. He shifts in his saddle as I believe his eyes fill with lust; I know mine do.

“You didn’t need to do that. You can cook your own food now, meanie,” curses Luda, throwing the kindling to the ground and racing to join Duzsia. Kneeling she pats Duzsia’s hair while casting hateful eyes at the big bully.

All our eyes turn to witness the galloping of two riding boars towards the campsite. The boar rider especially so, smiling and knowingly nodding. Duzsia and Luda huddle together.

Kicking up several loose stones the two arrivals halt their beasts behind their master ensuring they have a line of sight on Duzsia and Luda.

“Train your bows on these two. They move and an arrow in the leg, they run … you know what to do. Their male can’t be far away and if he is, as a proven coward we need not concern ourselves with him being brave, we can only hope for foolhardy or not at all.”

With that he nudges his beast forward, ignoring a whining scream from his beast. He heads along the shore, upstream. I dash between the brush trying to get ahead of him, not concerned if he spots me or not. A scream from the beast tells me he has, and I double my efforts to end up at the water’s edge, rope in hand before him. Going to plan he crouches low in the saddle and couches the spear under his arm, the point gleaming and targeting me. I stand as if transfixed by the sight of my impending doom …

At the height of his charge the beast bucks and sways. I know he will squeeze his legs to try and control the boar, yet this action results in the exact opposite with the beast digging in all four hooves scattering rocks and flotsam in every direction. The hobgoblin does well, an expert probably and doesn’t get thrown. What this means of course as the beast stops to topple over favouring the side without the rock under the saddle he is in danger of being trapped. The rider, his boots caught in the fancy stirrups results in his leg being caught between the weight of the beast and the unforgiving stone shore. He growls as he tries to pull himself free, yet his other boot is caught in the free stirrup. He reaches up, grabbing the saddle front trying to draw his leg up to meet his hand.

All the while I am strolling towards him, flashing a dagger at him.

This gives him an idea and laying down, he grabs for his dagger which is shortly to hand. I walk around the beast, the tusks have been tipped with metal spikes, most dangerous. He reaches up to the saddle and then begins sawing at the saddle girth strap while looking over his shoulder at me. For the first time, I see fear in his eyes.

Chatting between Duzsia and Luda alerts him to the impossible, they are still alive? He momentarily forgets to saw and when he remembers, a gentle hand wraps over his. His eyes fall upon his companion, his relief palpable. She takes the knife from his hand, frees his boot from the free stirrup and removes the stone from underneath the beast’s saddle and then rocks back onto her haunches. I grab the reins and tug the beast onto its hooves, admiring the kit adorning the beast, saddlebags, sword and sheath, and boar head stylised helm. All quality crafting, all denoting wealth and prestige. Shaking my head, I lead the boar away to some nearby decaying logs so he can root around for bugs.

As I stroll back towards him, the boar rider tries to stand relying on his broken leg and falls. His leg, now proven useless, likely fractured in several places he is at a loss, unable to collect his thoughts to curse me.

I wrap my arm around his former companion as I re-join the vigil. His mind clicks back into gear and his eyes beg askance from her, under a heavy frown.

“He is the impossible. A male Klugite Priest and he captured my spirit, so I now serve a new master,” she explains.

He whimpers. “I beg forgiveness. If I had known I would have offered both and left. You didn’t announce yourself even the youngest of Priestesses for all their childish haughtiness announce themselves, so others know to fear them … so this sort of misunderstanding doesn’t occur. Please … spare me. I will serve you, loyally, what is mine is yours. I have others who answer to me and coin. All yours, yes. And I can gather more in your service.”

“Unfortunately, I am expecting someone and for that to happen I will need your body, your dead body. On the bright side, perhaps they can impersonate you convincingly and deliver all you have promised anyway.”

He makes a supreme effort and stands on one leg, hoping occasionally, spreading, and waving his arms to keep his balance. I take his spear and thrust the butt end at his chest. He falls back, the river stones clattering away as his armoured body meets the shore in a sudden stop while his head continues in a whiplash motion until smashing into the stones also. Vague mumbling while labouring for breath is all he can manage, and I take this opportunity to rope his hands. I roll him towards the water’s edge, the splashes of water upon his face as his body enters the river revive him and he begins to squirm and kick out with his good leg. I roll him again and he is face down in the water, struggling to lift and turn his head in search of breath, all other efforts ceasing. One final roll submerges his head and after a time I witness the bubbles end.

“We could have helped husband,” offers Duzsia.

My knees are in the water and my hands lay upon his body as I take several deep breaths to calm myself. You imagine a simple task, roll someone into a river, yet when doing so you are close to them, face to face almost and they are helpless. Under your hands, you know their body is warm and breathing. Every instinct calls out to you to save them, you just need to believe their last promises …

This is my evil deed, mine alone.

“This death is mine, he threatened, and I answered.”

“Do you believe my father will return in his body?” asks Luda in a soft voice, almost fainting upon speaking the words.

“A possibility. Your father didn’t truly believe in spirit capture and this meat bag needs to be a distant relative of mine. Most hobgoblins seem to be related to me, breeding over the years will naturally produce more than however they were produced before and none so far have been called Head, Chief or Hunter for example. They have proper names although none have spoken any. So did your father believe enough is the question?”

Luda wraps an arm around me, while she chews on the fingernails of her other hand.

“Roll him out, remove his armour and bind his wounds. Leave one hand floating in the water,” I order.

Once done the three females in my service stand before me.

My eyes fall upon his former companion, and I ask, “What name do you want to be known by?”

“Why does the hobgoblin have a tribal goblin name?”

“Because when I first captured her spirit, she was a goblin.” I see her swallow and I know my explanation didn’t help, in fact, the opposite, she trembles as she drops to her knees and grabs at my legs.

“You name me master, this low one is happy to serve your greatness.”

I stare down Duzsia and Luda who are about to giggle and then bend down so I can place my finger under her chin and force her to stand. “Think on a name, you have plenty of time. In the meanwhile, fetch his beast so the three can graze together as I will need them calm to accept new riders.”

She nods and hurries off.

“Come you two we need to prepare another body.”

---

An arrow transfixes the chest sliding between the thin space given up by the lacing to bring the front and back of the cuirass armour together. I imagine the target with a straight left arm holding the bow steady exposing the vulnerability, yet the accuracy required is still worthy of admiration.

“Remove her armour and any padding, there should be a shirt and pants remaining.”

I gather Luda’s kindling into a pile and strike a fire. As the flames take, I notice the three boars grazing together and my new companion trying to approach me. Each step she takes under duress, forcing herself to comply and will away any apprehension. Is the spirit binding the cause, a stronger slavery than the original for certain or are these her deep down feelings manifesting and rejecting her current situation but unable to find escape?

“Please prepare a meal for the four of us.”

She swings a saddlebag down from her shoulder and nods. I leave her and return to the riverside.

Luda and Duzsia stare at the dead female hobgoblin in silence. I seat myself beside the corpse and position a foot on either side of the arrow. Grabbing the feathered end of the arrow, I pull. With a sucking sound, the arrow pulls free and Duzsia is quick with the bandages.

“Who are you expecting?” asks Luda.

“Your sister. By my reckoning, she should be the last of my spirit bound wives.”

Luda leaps upon me and whispers, “Is that why you captured the other instead of slaying her?”

I whisper back, “Not entirely, I needed a guide and what better than one who has possibly travelled far and wide since she rides a boar?”

Shrugging Luda off me, I scoop up the corpse and lay her beside the river ensuring one hand floats in the rushing water.

The smell of sizzling meat draws us all back to the fire, a late afternoon meal, neither lunch nor dinner but more than welcome. We take the portions on offer, mine enough for two. Duzsia and Luda hold back any comment, such diplomats.

“Will the beasts accept two riders each?”

“Yes, Master. One will need to ride behind the saddle, uncomfortable but not impossible.”

I notice her clean fingers and no portion set before her. “Eat. You will be unable to serve if you don’t maintain your excellent mmm, body condition.”

Her head drops. “I … I have a portion … I would wait until you finish in case you require anything from me, Master.”

“You eat when I eat.” I try to school my voice, not sickly kind, not overbearing, simply an instruction.

“Yes, Master.” There it is again a tremble in her voice this time.

I finish and divide my leftovers into three, dropping a portion into the hands of each of them. Duzsia and Luda tuck in while she hesitates her eyes upon me. “Eat,” I whisper and turn to the other two. “Scavenge up everything from the shoreline hereabouts, we will if those two awaken need every weapon and piece of armour we can find. I am going to dive for a dagger.”

With that said I stroll along the shore, heading upstream.

“Master?”

I stop and swivel about surprising my new companion as she crashes into me.

“Sorry Master. Please don’t punish me I will improve, I will dedicate my life to serving you, I will ensure …”

I place my fingers across her lips. My touch upon her as good as burns her by the way she instantly draws back.

“Why are you afraid of me?” I ask, unable to keep the resignation from my voice.

“You are a Priest of Klug, for me your word is absolute … I know only of Priestesses, and they are … are frightening in their lordship over those they convert and given males command females, Priests would command Priestesses …”

As I approach to draw her into a hug the sharp smell of urine hits my nostrils.

“Beat me Master for offending you, you must punish me …”

I embrace her, running my fingers through her hair while whispering words of comfort in her ear. When her trembling ceases, I continue to hold her.

She squirms slightly and I loosen my hold. “Maybe, if you wish and I don’t repulse you … I would ask you to use my body for your pleasure. Masters should use those who serve them, immediately to claim them … it is said.”

“Will that stop your trembling when near me? Place a smile upon your face when you greet me? Remove the fear from your eyes?”

“I don’t know Master, yet if nothing changes, then nothing changes … it is said.”

“That is true enough. First though since you are here you can hold this end of the rope while I swim across the river and search for your dagger. Once I am in position, you will need to brace and hold me there, short of the far shore so I can do an initial search. Given you dropped the weapon near the shore I don’t think the current would have swept it away, but we will see.”

Her eyes cast downwards she replies, “Yes, Master.”

---

My arm wraps around her as we return to camp in triumph. The weapons, armour and tools are in separate piles with food packed in saddlebags and any extra set aside. I drop her dagger upon the weapons pile.

“We thought another serving of meat for the evening meal husband,” says Duzsia.

“Perhaps portions can be set aside for our promised guests?” offers Luda a sparkle in her eyes.

“Master, a fire at night attracts … dried meat, cheese and apples if carried are usually appropriate …”

Her voice dies as both Duzsia and Luda target her with harsh stares.

“I am sorry you two, but the native will know best. Although without a fire for the night.” I tap my chin. “We will need to sleep close for body warmth.” Their smiles return to their faces in an instant and I suspect deviant thinking occurs behind their eyes.

Once the meal is done our new companion disappears to the riverbank to clean up the simple flat metal plates and cooking pan. Duzsia and Luda take the opportunity to drape themselves half on me and half beside me as I settle onto a bedroll.

Our new companion creeps back into camp, checks on the beasts, and then eases into a bedroll on the other side of the cold firepit. She whispers, “Master while my former master will be missed, it isn’t unusual for him to overnight in camp. The boars are good guards, they will fuss when they smell anything or anyone different approach and I will wake when they do.”

“Rest well and if you are cold during the night please join us,” I weakly reply. For some reason, my caution of years has fled from me. I feel superior and I don’t understand why. Camping away from civilisation beside a river in an unforgiving world should send shivers up my spine and yet try as I might I am at peace, utter calm. While they lay beside me, I am aware of their physical presence, but also their spiritual presence, their lifeforce for lack of a better name. My new worshipper registers in extraordinary detail, the restless move of her foot, a tear forming and her pulsing lifeforce, on edge, wound up tight yet thank the stars, no longer trembling. The lifeforce of the three boars also register with me. They are all within my circle of awareness and dare I say, control. A simple wilfulness on my part and Duzsia and Luda are satisfied laying with me when I am certain beyond doubt, they had planned much more, for their own enjoyment but also to tease the new girl.

“Yes, Duzsia and Luda,” I whisper. They woke many heartbeats ago and I sense much debating within them.

“Husband, there is knowledge of our past you must know. Like what happened after your death?” whispers Duzsia.

“Now?”

“Yes, before Zeb and Koria possibly join us …”

“I am listening.”

“We need to explain Rexa, husband. Do you want the short version or the long version?”

I curl the arm Duzsia uses as a pillow to draw her close. “The past can’t be changed, so the short version.”

Duzsia takes a deep breath. “Your wives agreed to run the Farm and the Village, including Copper Village between them. As each of your children were born, each were recognised as, of your lineage, your heirs. Unknown to most Rexa drank of your blood. We found out later Zoria swore your blood was potent, your legacy to strengthen all who believed in you.”

“That is true. All should have partaken …” I murmur under my breath.

Luda’s hand reaches across my chest and rests upon Duzsia’s arm, and she continues. “Koria and I weren’t trusted by the other wives, well deserved we know so we had plenty of time on our hands to snoop. A deal was made between Zoria and Rexa. Ligia and Karo bore witness you named Zoria wife and Oath keeper upon your death, yet she never gave you a child and thought perhaps her position among the wives weak. Rexa delivered you a hobgoblin son and she survived the grievous tearing which resulted. Once recovered, being first wife, coupled with the fact she bore a hobgoblin son she began exhibiting a superiority. Small things at first so others became used to her commanding. Once her son came of age and him a great natural warrior at her back, she claimed sole authority over the other wives and the valley.”

“While I can understand the logic, surely my other wives would have counselled her?”

They hold each other’s hand upon my chest now as Duzsia continues, “Rexa was ruthless husband. She wielded her power with one aim and one aim only. To venerate you. How could any argue against such a purpose? She declared herself the first High Priestess of the Klugites. She then ordered us, Koria, Luda and I to retrieve the sacred armour from the Flint Arrows. Blindly we thought this would gain us favour, a welcome back and when we succeeded, she gave the armour to her son and dismissed us. The Flint Arrows blamed the Blood Bones as you predicted and after the genocide of the Blood Bones, the Flint Arrows were weak and exhausted. Other tribes of the valley then nibbled away at their remaining strength. They realised their folly when your son, already a formidable warrior at a young age became invincible when he wore the armour in battle against them.”

“Rexa, like others, knew of my near-death in their lands … she sent her son to right that blemish,” I offer.

Luda resumes the telling, “Yes, conquering them was well celebrated. The Matriarch took this as a warning and tried to organise with the remaining tribes to destroy this rising power, yet all saw in your son the return of the Warrior Hob. To face him in battle meant certain death. Upon surrender of any goblins, Rexa would preach to them and convert them into accepting her as High Priestess. Many choose to flee the valley instead. Milga Stone Blood one of the earliest to recognise Rexa’s fanaticism after your death decided to bide her time, neither openly for nor against her. She needed to wait for her daughter to grow. As soon as Rexa claimed all authority as first wife, Milga secured a release from her oath as she only needed to convince one of your wives to agree now – Rexa. I suppose Rexa’s release of Milga meant one less to fight if it ever came to that and further demonstrated her authority as none opposed her decision. Our father stayed by Rexa’s side offering advice, trying to temper her dictatorship, most ignored towards the end. She slowly broke him and as his disloyal daughters, we had no power to save him. Rexa left us alone in the main because we were powerless, and none tried to ally with us for the same reason. Some left the valley in search of Milga, we encouraged our children once of age to do the same. As your wives, Rexa wouldn’t permit us to leave, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ is the explanation she gave us.”

I grab both of my wives all the closer to me. The trickling of water in the nearby river rings loud in my ears as I digest this short version. I shudder to think of the pain and anguish in the long version. All my wives were powerless before the daughter of Jotor. He taught her well. I shiver due to a fortunate unfulfilled possibility. I may have conducted the drowning ceremony with Rexa and what would return to me now. There is another I didn’t consider, Zoria. While I remember naming and accepting her as a wife, did I ever perform the drowning ceremony with her? Surely not, I never welcomed her, try as she might. What of the new addition, will I be able to call her to me during my next life? Perhaps that is reason enough to release her. I have so many questions, yet a trivial one rises to the top.

“Which wife lived the longest?”

Luda glances at Duzsia before replying, “We don’t know husband, we suspect Rexa as she drank of your blood often, while for your other wives partaking was occasional as a reward for great service or show of loyalty.”

“You and your sister never drank?” I feel the shake of her head upon my chest. “What became of my Oath Keeper?”

“She kept her oath and watched over the goblin prisoner either personally or her chosen guard did. None understood why … husband …”

I didn’t take her hint and offer an explanation. “Sleep now both of you. I suspect we have a big day tomorrow.”

Before sleep, I plead to the unknown for Koria Keen Eye and Zeb Stone Grim to return to me.