Temporal Locum

by Wendie Nordgren

  “Becoming agitated isn’t going to help,” Gethim drawled.

  Bym pictured him with a piece of straw hanging out of his mouth and shook her head. “I don’t know what will help. I don’t know what to do.” Absently, she scratched at the twisting itch in her chest until Guto pulled her hand away. The red silk covering her chest flashed and glowed where beneath her flesh the snakes danced in their figure eight. She was briefly distracted from the magic’s itch by Iago who sported a red face and joined them from the direction of the bathroom.

  Hopcyn said, “Exploring the fortress sounds like an excellent diversion.” He stood and adjusted his robes.

  “It won’t be. Don’t you see? They’ll follow me, the priestesses and priests, expecting me to do something, and it will probably just be me breaking something expensive.”

  Hopcyn nudged Guto out of the way and lifted her chin. “What if they don’t know it’s you?”

  Gethim chuckled and moved to take Hopcyn’s place. “Close your eyes.” He had a stick of kohl in his hand. Doing as he’d asked, she felt him touch the tip to her inner eye and work his way across her lid all of the way over to her temple. He repeated the application with her other eye. “Open your eyes, and look up.”

  Bym didn’t need instruction on make-up application. Even though her past was hazy, she knew about this. However, it was intriguing to have a fierce Umbra warrior doing her eyeliner. He stepped back to survey his work.

  “Quick. Off with the dress,” Guto said while unfastening the closures at her back.

  A thin black shift protected her assets from being ogled but didn’t hide the slithering light in her chest. Iago glanced around the room, making eye contact with each of them.

  Hopcyn said, “Hurry. Drem and Arwel are on their way.” He jogged back to them from where he’d been spying near the entrance.

  She stepped into a pair of black pants and put on the robes.

  “The shoes,” Gethim hissed.

  “She’s short. The robes will cover her feet if she stands still. Put a mask on her.”

  Properly disguised, she followed Gethim, Guto, Iago, and Hopcyn down the stairs, along corridors, through chambers, and no one reacted to her presence. The oppression she’d been feeling for days began to lift.

  “She’s seen the dining hall,” Guto complained.

  “Yes, but has she recently seen the bottom of a bowl?” Iago asked.

  “No, she had some tea.”

  “Tea? What sort of goblin-cursed servant are you?” Iago demanded.

  “Shhh!” Hopcyn warned.

  The five of them sat on benches around a table and waited while acolytes served them loaves of a thick, coarse bread, hunks of cheese, and bowls filled with chunks of stewed meat. Slicing open a loaf, Bym constructed a twelve-inch sub for herself and went to town on it. Iago grunted and copied her. None of them were concerned by her bad manners. She started thinking about Mistress Seren and Eurig. Once they’d eaten, the tour continued.

  “This is what you should try.” Hopcyn nudged her toward what she could only describe as a massive, underground, arena-like dojo. Inside, Umbra warriors fought as though they meant to kill each other. Most of them only wore their baggy black pants while attacking each other with blunt swords, long stick-like weapons, spears, or simply their fists and feet.

  In a small voice, she said, “I can’t fight.”

  “Why not learn?” Guto asked.

  “Take off the shoes,” Hopcyn ordered while getting close and holding his hand out for them. Slipping them off, she handed them over.

  “He’s right. Meditation has worked to open the floodgates of magic, but it isn’t helping you to center yourself or relax. This might be your way,” Iago said.

  “You’ve killed goblins, so you can’t possibly be afraid of sparring with acolytes. Look,” Gethim pointed. “He’s your size. Go play with him.”

  Bym gave him a dirty look, but turned her attention to the little bald boy standing near a wall all alone. The bigger boys had already paired up, leaving him to pout by himself. Yep, he was her size and probably around twelve or thirteen. Moving along the edges of the dojo, Bym made her way over to him. The boy looked her over distrustfully. Feeling ridiculous, Bym asked him if he could teach her anything which had him puffing up with pride. Once she had selected a wooden sword of her own, they moved to an empty space, and he proceeded to beat the shit out of her.

  Bym had finally started to get the gist of blocking his blows when a drum sounded, ending practice for the day. Guto stood nearby, watching her. After racking her practice sword, she joined him. The others were replacing their practice weapons on the far side of the dojo, the side where the fighting she’d witnessed had almost made her piss herself. The Umbra seemed like they were warrior monks or something. They weren’t a force with which to be trifled. Even Iago fought like a deadly assassin. His robes hid corded lithe muscles, and he knew how to use his medicinal knowledge to heal or inflict pain. She wondered how much more efficiently they would be able to defend against a goblin attack than had she and Eurig or the townspeople for that matter.

  Someone rubbed a hand over her head, pulling her from her thoughts. Guto smiled down at her. “It’s good luck to rub an acolyte’s head.”

  Moving close to his ear, she said, “You seemed to like it when I rubbed yours.” She smiled up at him as red crept up his neck.

  Hopcyn wedged himself between them. Sweat covered his torso, and he blotted at his chest with his bunched-up robes within which her shoes were hidden. Herding her along with them, they angled away from all of the other warriors and acolytes who were moving toward the men’s bathing pool. They walked to a seldom-used section of the fortress. It was older, simpler, and far less luxurious than the more popular bathing pools. Narrow steps led down to a deep, narrow pool around which cave walls gave it a secluded feeling. A single wall torch provided flickering light but failed to illuminate the pool’s length. The men stripped, giving her full views of their backsides. Then, they jumped in, creating large splashes as they did.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Can’t swim?” Gethim asked. He turned and stood, showing her that the water only came up to his chest. “It’s not over your head. That’s why this pool isn’t popular.” Dipping and turning, he swam after the others.

  “Oh, that’s the reason, not because it’s creepy down here or anything.” Bym stripped, leaving her clothing on the pile with theirs, and gingerly stuck her toe in the water. It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t too cold.

  Wanting to rinse off the sweat, she walked down the steep steps and immersed herself. As she slowly moved against the water’s resistance, she noticed a narrow, roughly hewn ledge running the length of the pool’s right side. It was good to know she had a way out if she needed it, so she kept it within reach. The farther she got from the steps, the warmer the water became.

  Soon, a second torch illuminated the cave pool enough for her to see Iago, Hopcyn, Guto, and Gethim relaxing in a spring, the source of the pool’s warmth. They spoke so quietly that only soft, mumbled echoes reached her ears. She was able to join them without having to lift her chest from the water, but she could sense their nervousness. She was about to speak when Iago flicked water at her and pointed. An acolyte was placing towels and fresh clothing out for them.

  Bym mouthed, “What about my shoes?”

  Hopcyn whispered, “I hid them on a ledge.”

  Her identity safe, Bym closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

  Only a few minutes seemed to pass before they heard Drem yell, “Guto!”

  “Goblin balls,” Guto muttered. Louder, he answered, “Yes?”

  “Where is your charge?” Drem was frantically livid. He stormed toward them from a dimly lit tunnel, one into which the terrified acolyte quickly vanished.

  “My charge is safe, sir.”

  “Do you not realize the magnitude of the responsibility with which you have been entrusted? She can’t be left alone! What if
the magics are to seize her while she’s alone? She could fall, hit her head, lose consciousness! And all of you! You’re lounging about with him? Are you all mad?” Drem flew at Guto, grabbing him and hauling him from the pool.

  Bym shielded her face from the splashes and blinked water from her eyes. The others scrambled from the water, slipping and falling while trying to stop the men from brutalizing each other with their fists. Shocked by the aggressive display, Bym wanted out of the water but didn’t see any steps. She had to climb from the pool by getting her stomach onto the edge since no one seemed inclined to offer her any assistance.

  Once she had her feet under her, she yelled, “Stop it! Stop it! Are you fucking crazy?” Her voice was drowned out by the fighting. It was a wet, flapping dick, and ball swinging free-for-all. Then, as Bym grabbed a handful of Drem’s cloak, he and Guto went over the edge, taking Bym, whose feet slipped out from under her, with them. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as water closed over her. A big foot came down on her thigh, pushing her body down so hard that her butt ground into the pool’s bottom.

  Shoving away from the fighting males, she broke the surface and gulped in a deep breath. Livid, she pounced. Grabbing Drem’s saturated cloak, she launched herself onto his back, wrapped her legs around him, and sank her teeth into his shoulder.

  “Stop! Stop! You’re going to hurt her!”

  The warning didn’t register with Drem. His fingers dug into her flesh, and he ripped her from his back, hurling her from his back and into the dark part of the pool.

  “It’s her! Stop!”

  She heard their loud, arguing voices from under the water, and as she surfaced heard them echoing off the walls. Then, she was in someone’s arms and out of the pool. Sputtering and wiping her eyes, the first thing she saw was Drem’s horrified expression. “Let me go! I’m kicking his ass!”

  “No, you are not! I’ll kick his hairy ass for you!” Iago swore.

  “No, I will,” Gethim said, shoving Drem’s back against the rough stone wall.

  “I thought...” Drem stammered.

  Bym got distracted from her struggles to free herself by Gethim’s firm, dimple-cheeked ass. Then, she realized that the man holding her had his hands full of her boobs. “Do you mind? You’re pinching my nipple.”

  His hands left her like she was lava. Standing up was difficult because she had to untangle her legs from his and step on the ground and not his thighs. It was made more difficult since the slippery man was also trying to stand. She ended up hitting him in the face with her ass. Turning to apologize as she stood, she smirked at Hopcyn’s raging hard-on.

  “Were you trying to give me a lift with that?”

  From the look on his face, he had no comprehension of the words she’d spoken. However, she had everyone’s attention and then some.

  Soft tapping footsteps intruded on the sudden silence. Yeva and Perri came into view from the tunnel and held their skirts up and away from the puddles. “There you are. We’ve been worried about you,” Yeva calmly stated. “It seems that rather than meditation, roughhousing with naked warriors is the way to center your emotions.” She raised an eyebrow at the engorged penises in sight. “Carry on.”

  Perri said, “Come, Yeva. Bym seems to have discovered her favored way of embracing her powers.”

  “It’s not what it looks like, Perri!” Bym shouted at her back. Her face turned pink with embarrassment.

  “Perhaps, you should return to your soak and calm down. Drem, you’re dripping.” Yeva turned and followed after Perri.

  “Goddess, forgive me. I had no idea.”

  “You had no idea because you jumped to conclusions. Guto, are you alright?” She held a hand to her aching ass.

  He stopped glaring at Drem to answer. “I’m fine. What about you?” His breathing was still hard, and water dripped from his nose.

  “I’ll have a few fresh bruises come morning.” She looked down at her right thigh where someone had stepped on her. The distinct outline of a boot had her narrowing her eyes at Drem. She muttered under her breath about tossing his balls in the air and making them burn to ash. Hearing her, Drem paled.

  Iago stepped down into the hot spring and offered her his hand. “Soaking away the soreness will help.” After he’d helped her get comfortable, he protectively sat beside her.

  Guto and Gethim gave Drem a few death glares before helping him remove his wet, twisted cloak. Drem tossed it at Hopcyn’s rigid shaft which broke the tension and had them all laughing.

  After everyone was submerged and sufficiently calm, Bym saw what her teeth had done to Drem’s shoulder. “Sorry about that, but hitting you wouldn’t have done any good. My punch doesn’t pack much power.”

  He said, “You made up for it with your teeth. I thought I had a goblin on my back.”

  Smiling brightly, she said, “Thank you.”

  Guto snorted at her and shook his head.

  Drem nodded toward her chest. Misunderstanding his intentions, Hopcyn splashed water in his face. “Quit. I merely wished to point out what Yeva and Perri meant. The swirling of the Temporal Locum within her being has calmed.”

  Bym looked down at her chest which was no longer itching insanely. The faint golden glow had slowed from its frenetic dance to a languid pulsing. “I don’t remember much from my former life. I can recall certain skills, flashes of faces, feelings, and what I believe to have been the moment of my death. I guess only the most poignant memories remain. I do have the feeling that in my other life, I never really stood up for myself. I think I just took abuse and felt stupid and ashamed anytime I fought back. It’s different here. I think I may have been given a choice as my former life and the different paths I could have taken snapped in upon themselves. Here, I’ve defended myself against goblins. I’ve survived with basically nothing. I’m not as powerless as I used to think. However, the thing with the starshine did frighten me. Just when I start to think I understand who I am, something like that happens.” Looking up at the sorcerer, she asked, “Why is it that I can bring down a ceiling, but you can put it back together? Why don’t I have any magic?”

  “The Temporal Locum is the conduit for magic, and magic is the essence of our world. Without it, the fabric unravels. Day, night, the weather, and our survival depend upon it. Long ago, those of our world existed in an alternate dimension. However, magic was forced to flee it. It was unable to thrive there, but unable to be destroyed for it is infinite. To co-exist with this world, the Temporal Locum must have a host.”

  “Me,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “Why is it fighting me? Why doesn’t it stabilize?” She ran wet hands over her bare head in frustration.

  “Is it fighting you, or are you fighting it?” Drem asked.

  Iago took her hand, holding it on his hairy thigh. “Think of your bonding to magic as your body accepting natural antibodies. You are fighting a virus in our world, a virus which destroys magic. As you build in strength, our world will heal.”

  Something clicked in Bym’s mind.

  “Oh. It takes time to get well.”

  “It does,” Iago said with a warm smile.

  She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Time to get out,” Guto jealously announced. Water fell from him as he climbed out and offered her his hand.

  They dried themselves and dressed in the black garb of Umbra warriors. Bym laced up the soft pair of black boots with which she’d been provided. “What about my red shoes?”

  “I’ll get them for you later,” Hopcyn assured her.

  As they left the bathing chamber and walked along the tunnel that Drem, the priestesses, and acolytes had used, they walked into pandemonium. The Umbra appeared to be preparing for war.

  “Report,” Drem ordered a demon-masked soldier.

  “The townspeople are determined to return to their homes now that the snows are melting.”

  “Carry on,” Drem said. He strode away with Bym and everyone else fol
lowing him. He led them into a familiar room where Captain Arwel stood over his map table.

  Looking up, he said, “Take your team and oversee a troop. Our guests are determined to leave, and I don’t want to be burning their remains after a goblin attack.”

  Drem and the others bowed, so Bym mimicked them. Then, they stood to the side and waited.

  “We won’t be eaten.”

  From where she stood behind Guto, she recognized the voice. It was Lyle, the blacksmith. She tried to search around the men for Abner but didn’t see him.

  Captain Arwel said, “You are stubborn and infuriating. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  Lyle grinned at him. “Yes, old friend, but you have your life here, and we have ours in our village. Your men cleared the goblins out before the snows fell.”

  “Yes, but we fear more will come.” To Drem, he said, “Dismissed.”

  Once they were clear of the other warriors, Drem said, “Take her back to her rooms.”

  Guto took her hand.

  “Drem, no, please!” Freeing her hand, she said, “Please, take me with you. Please, let me say goodbye to my friends, Helga, and Seren. I need closure in the village. Please?”

  “You can say goodbye to them outside,” Gethim said.

  Bristling, she asked, “Am I a prisoner?”

  “Of course, not,” he said with a pointed stare.

  Drem looked as though he would refuse, but after exchanging silent communications with his men, reading their eyes in a way she couldn’t, he relented.

  Hopcyn said, “It’s not far, she’ll be with us, and we’ll have her back by nightfall.”

  Stabbing a finger toward Bym, Drem said, “You will obey our every command, or you will stay here.”

  Bym nodded. “I will. I promise.”

  Gethim chuckled at Drem’s whipped expression. The mighty, feared sorcerer was as strong as honeyed milk against Bym. Softly whistling to Sausage and Potatoes, who were never far from him, the hounds came running.

  They made their way to the cavern where their horses were stabled. Guto caught at Bym’s arm when she began to move toward Donkey. “Learn how to saddle your own horse, boy,” Guto said. Realizing she’d almost given away her identity, she went with him to a black palfrey and paid attention as he saddled it for her.