Forever and a Knight

by Bridget Essex

  I can feel my gaze travel down Attis' body for the umpteenth time today, and I stop myself just in time.

  But then, in the grand scheme of things, today's not going terribly either.

  Attis loops Zilla's reins once around the hitching post and then takes Zilla's big, horsey chin in her hands. Attis stares eye to eye with her mare.

  “Do not disturb this poor old fellow here. Do you understand?” she says softly, glancing over at the other old, gray horse, who, now that I look at him, is at the very end of his tether, leaning in fear away from Zilla.

  Zilla snorts and paws her hoof but then hangs her head as if to say, “Sure, sure.” But she glances one wicked, glittering eye at the other horse when Attis turns her back.

  Attis pushes open the tavern door, a massive, wooden thing that looks like it should belong on the front of a church. Immediately, the relative quiet of the night is washed away as the riot of warmth and sound from the tavern rolls out to meet us.

  My first impression is that there must be a big brawl going on. That's the only thing that could account for the decibels of yelling assaulting my ears, as Attis holds the door open for me and I step into the building. But as my eyes adjust to the dim light of the sprawling room I now find myself in, I realize that there's no big bar fight going on at all...

  It's just that the big main room of the tavern is full of very drunk people, and they're all yelling at each other, trying to be heard over the other very drunk people.

  In short: it's happy chaos.

  The dim light brightening the room is coming from the old, wooden candelabras overhead, hanging from the ceiling by rusted chains and filled with dripping candles. Though there are several candelabras, the candles aren't bright enough to accurately light up the room below, and I'm kind of okay with that. There appears to be sawdust (or something very much like sawdust) on the floor, but that's about as close as I'm going to look at the floor...which appears to be pretty damn dirty. The heavy wooden tables scattered around the room are surrounded, elbow to elbow, with all sorts of people. There are big, burly guys in armor, small guys in armor, women in armor... Lots of other people in medieval-looking garb, too. But the minute I caught sight of that table clustered with armored women, I kind of stopped paying attention to everything else.

  As does Attis.

  “Kell!” she booms, and the tallest woman at the table, the woman with cascading, super-curly blonde hair, stiffens, straightens, and turns with a massive wooden mug (filled with beer, I'm presuming) in her hand.

  The minute she sees Attis, her lips curl up into such a wide smile that she dazzles me. God, she's gorgeous. Again, you'd have to be into her type. Her face looks hardened and aggressive, but when she sees Attis, she softens so that you can see what lies beneath that powerful exterior—a lot of compassion. And, you know, passion, in general.

  “Attis, it's you!” the blonde woman crows, and then she's vaulting over a table of particularly short, squat men in pointy hats (I'll have to ask Attis if there's such a thing as gnomes here in Agrotera, because they remind me, more than anything else, of garden gnomes. And if gnomes actually do exist here...I'm not really going to be surprised).

  The woman clears the beard-y, pointy-hatted men to then race across the space between us and wrap Attis in such a tight embrace that, for half a moment?

  Makes me completely jealous.

  Wow, where did that come from? But I can't deny it—the jealousy reared up, almost immediately, shaking its ugly, green-eyed head.

  Okay, it's pretty obvious that Attis and this woman, Kell, know each other fairly well. It doesn't mean they were lovers (for God's sake, I don't know if Attis is gay; it's all just wishful thinking, at this point), and I have to remind myself, for the umpteen millionth time, that it doesn't matter if Attis is gay or not. She's from another world, and the chances of a relationship starting between us are nil. If there's even a possibility that she's gay, or just likes the ladies. And then, of course, there's the possibility that, even if she is attracted to women, she might not be attracted to me, or even unattached. Honestly, I shouldn't be concerned at all about the fact that she's hugging another woman so, so tightly.

  Still, my cheeks are flushed, and there's not a damn thing I can do about that. So I avert my gaze and avoid looking at the two of them embracing, instead turning my attention to the table populated with possible-gnomes.

  “Good gods, it's been awhile now, hasn't it?” asks Kell, backing away to hold Attis out at arm's length, gazing at her warmly. Kell has piercing blue eyes, is about as tall as Attis, and together...the two women standing side by side look pretty formidable. They're both in armor, though Kell's is very different from the stuff Attis wears, with her full-body armor. Kell's armor, even though it's miserably cold out, consists of leather pants, a leather skirt, and a leather bra covered in metal plates. There are leather bits all over her, but her stomach is entirely bare, and the only coverings on her arms are occasional straps of leather and metal bands.

  I wonder if she's freezing, but she doesn't look at all uncomfortable as she turns from Attis toward me, her blue eyes flashing knowingly. She smirks, her full mouth curving knowingly. “And who is this beautiful companion of yours?” she practically purrs, as she sweeps a low bow to me, rising in one fluid motion and taking up my free hand—the one not holding Wonder beneath the coat. She leans forward and slowly, sensually, kisses the back of my hand with warm, full lips.

  “This,” says Attis, her mouth curling up at the corners in bemusement, “is Josie. I'm taking her to Arktos City.”

  “Lady Josie,” says Kell, her voice dropping to a deep, velvety growl as she pins me to the spot with her flashing blue eyes. “Where did you find her, Attis? It has been so long since I saw one so fair—”

  Attis folds her arms in front of her, raising a single brow at me as her smile deepens. “I don't believe your sweet words will work on this one, Kell,” she says, her head to the side. I glance at Attis with wide eyes. What's that supposed to mean?

  Also, wow...Kell was definitely hitting on me. I have a lot of reactions to that fact slamming into me all at once, but I don't have time to consider them, because Attis is shaking her head. She hooks an armored arm through Kell's naked elbow and chuckles as she draws the woman aside, leaning toward her. “It's been a long time, old friend... Let's dine together.” Attis' smile deepens into a Cheshire Cat grin. “You can flirt later.”

  “Oh, you spoil my fun,” says Kell, practically pouting as she drops my hand from her long fingers and straightens, sighing.

  “Your fun will not be spoiled, I assure you,” says Attis with indulgence as she wraps an arm tightly around Kell's shoulders and squeezes. Her voice drops low as she flicks her gaze to the side: “I'm thinking you're going to get that bar maid who keeps making wide eyes at you into bed before the night's done.”

  Kell flicks her piercing blue gaze toward said bar maid, who's hanging out behind the bar and leaning on it with her pretty, plump elbows. The bar maid looks young, maybe in her late teens or early twenties, with a big, curly mop of red hair that cascades over her shoulders and down and over breasts that are straining against her bodice. She looks like she should be on the front cover of a straight romance novel.

  But the stare she's giving Kell is anything but straight. If such a thing happened in real life, cartoon hearts would be circling that bar maid's head as she stares at Kell and sighs happily, putting her chin in her hands, and—I kid you not—actually batting her eyelashes.

  “You'll not be lonely tonight, my friend, I guarantee it,” says Attis wryly, as she squeezes Kell's shoulder again. “But before you go to bed,” she tells her with a wink, “let us catch up. How long has it been, truly?”

  Kell tears her glittering gaze from the bar maid and grins at Attis. “Oh, half a year, I think? Really, what could you have possibly been doing to keep so busy?”

  “Well, with winter coming, the mercenary business is certainly picking up,” says Attis,
with a shake of her head. Kell wraps an arm around Attis' shoulders, and speaking in low tones, together the two march around the “gnome” table and toward the back booth, where the other women warriors are clustered.

  I shift Wonder's weight under the now too-hot coat and follow them. My cat, as expected, makes a little yowling sound and starts to root her way to the top neck hole of the coat, demanding to be let out of her stuffy prison. I'm also not too happy about carrying around a large, hot cat inside of a large, hot room, so I glance around, making certain there are no dogs in the vicinity, and I let her down on the floor.

  You might think that's not very responsible of me, or very safe for my cat. But I promise you: Wonder can hold her own against practically anything in this, or any other, universe. I pity the poor creature who would try to touch her if she doesn't want to be touched.

  Predictably, Wonder makes a beeline toward the roaring fire at the far end of the room. Soon, my little gray beast is purring in a perfect circle of cat, her tail resting on top of her nose as she sleeps on the warm stones in front of the fire, just out of reach of the little sparks of the blaze.

  As I approach the table, my eyes widen as I take in the cluster of knightly women. These are all such strong women, every one of them; that fact is obvious. Each woman stands with feet wide apart, or sits lounging against the booth as if she doesn't have a care in the world. And each wears armor. Several women have similar armor to Attis, but most of the armor types are different. Attis' armor is more traditional, I think: it makes me think of the Knights of the Round Table, “standard” armor. But at the table, there are women wearing armor made of linked loops of metal, armor made of something copper-colored, and one woman's armor is actually encrusted with gems. Which you'd think would be pretty, or at the very least sparkly, but she just looks uncomfortable in it, leaning as far back as she can as she perches on the edge of the bench with a pinched expression.

  So, yes, they're warrior women, but as confidant and strong and armor-wearing as all these women are, they're also—unquestionably—one hundred percent drunk.

  Still, it'd be difficult to determine that fact if they weren't all singing together rather off-key—something about swords.

  “Hello, ladies,” says Attis warmly, and the warrior women rise, embracing her with bellowed greetings of happiness. This far into the tavern, it feels a little like being at a rock concert. Everyone's yelling so loudly to be heard, but they're all so cheerful about it, too, that it's warming to witness, if not hear.

  “This is my traveling companion, Josie,” says Attis, still wearing a warm smile, her arms around several women, and their arms around her shoulders. She manages to gesture to me, and while everyone else is yelling “hello!”, I'm actually picked up by the woman to my left, a shorter woman than the others (God, there's someone here who's actually my height), who sports close-cropped sandy blonde hair, an upturned nose and a scar slicing her face from her chin to just above her brown right eye. She's wearing armor similar to Attis', and while the others are holding their liquor pretty well, she...isn't.

  “Lovely to meet ya, Josie!” the woman yells in my ear, with breath that smells of beer and lemons. “I'm Alinor! What you be doin' with our Attis?”

  “Traveling with her to Arktos City!” I yell back at her. Or at least try to yell. She's still squeezing me tightly, and it's a little difficult to breathe at the moment.

  “That's good!” she bellows back to me and finally relinquishes me to lift up her mug of beer again in a toast. “To Attis!” She brandishes the mug into the air, sloshing beer down its sides. “It's good to have you back, however long we have you for!”

  The other warrior women cheer loudly, and each lifts up their glasses or mugs, the bar maid rushing over to give a mug of sweet-smelling beer to both me and Attis. I lift my mug, too, as Attis chuckles and raises hers high.

  “It's good to be among friends,” she shouts, and the mugs crash together in a violent toast, droplets (and waves) of beer flying in all directions and spraying pretty much everyone. Not that they notice. They're cheering loudly and embracing one another, and Attis, with a wide smile, sips at her beer and glances at me over the head of Alinor. In that moment, Attis' warm, amber eyes are the softest I've ever seen them.

  This might be the first time I've seen Attis truly happy, I realize.

  Admittedly, I've only known Attis for a short time, but in that time, she's struck me as a relatively closed-off person. She's guarded—that much is obvious, and she does smile, it's true...but there's so much hardness to her face, her mannerisms, every expression and action. This is the first time I've seen her softened, and she seems, in this moment, vulnerable enough to relax around these, her friends. I don't know how these women know her, but I'm assuming that they were all knights together once.

  And however they know each other, the fact of the matter is that Attis seems very happy here with them.

  And I love seeing her happy. I sip at the sweet beer and surreptitiously glance at her face, feeling my own cheeks flush a little.

  “Is the ale good?” Attis asks me, moving smoothly around Alinor so that she's the one standing next to me now. She peers down at my mug with a furrowed brow. “Do you like this? Would you like something else to drink, perhaps?”

  I begin to shake my head, tell her the beer's perfect, but then Alinor is offering another toast into the air, her mug sloshing so much beer out of it that I wonder if there'll be any left for her to drink after she toasts. I didn't hear the beginning of the toast because her words are a little more slurred right now, but I think they had something to do with quests, adventures, and comrades. Attis chuckles, leaning down close to me as she wraps an arm around my shoulders.

  Instantly, every inch of my body is on high alert, a zing of closeness (and, admittedly, the booze hitting my empty stomach) causing my cheeks to warm, and the nether regions of my body to turn on in a less than subtle way. But she's not drawing me close for an embrace, as she did with the other women; she's trying to tell me something.

  “Can I leave you with them for just a minute? I need to take care of Zilla,” she murmurs into my ear, holding her warm, amber gaze on mine.

  Her mouth is so close to my mouth, because she had to lean toward me to be heard. Her lips almost brush against my ear as her warm breath moves over the skin of my neck; I shiver a little. My heart is thundering in me, and, wow, did the beer hit my empty stomach hard. I promise, I'm not this much of a lightweight, but as I stand there, trying to quell the shiver that moves through my bones, I'm hyper-aware of how close Attis is, and the fact that I can't help but want to kiss her.

  I have to be honest with myself: I want that—I want her—fiercely.

  “Sure. You go take care of Zilla. I'm fine here,” I manage to tell her, and Attis nods twice, setting her mug down on the table and turning to squeeze past the press of other warrior women as she makes her way toward the front door.

  “So, Josie,” says Kell almost immediately, the moment Attis is out of earshot. Kell's glittering blue gaze pins me from across the table as she leans forward, her shoulders curled toward me, eyes narrowed. “How do you know our Attis?” she asks me. Before I can respond, her gaze is raking me up and down again, her mouth tugging at the corners into a sly, predatory grin. “You...don't look like you're from around here.”

  “I'm...not...from around here,” I tell her, taking another sip of the beer. Its warmth washes down my throat as I realize that my head is starting to get pleasantly fuzzy. “I'm from Earth,” I tell her, after clearing my throat.

  Alinor throws her arm around my waist and squeezes me against her side, pressing my body against her pointy metal bits. I grimace a little, but she's smiling so hugely, I do my best to push off her without offending her. “Well, wherever you come from, it's good you're with our Attis now,” she shouts into my face. “She looks happier than I've seen her since Hera was killed.”

  Kell's dazzling blue eyes are now pinning down Alinor, but she'
s three women away from her, and while it's obvious that Kell wants Alinor to stop talking, drunken Alinor, oblivious to Kell's angry face, keeps on talking.

  “I never thought she'd recover from that, really. None of us did. It's a right good thing, you being here, Josie. Have you bedded her yet?”

  I was in the middle of swallowing a mouthful of beer, but I actually spit a little of it out as I snort through my nose at her remark. I cough hard, trying to get the beer out of my windpipe, and Alinor smacks me so roughly on my back that I actually hear my ribs creaking a little. She pounds my back with her wide, armored hand, trying to “help.”

  “Bedded?” is the first word I actually manage to say, my voice low and gravelly as I wheeze around the beer in my lungs.

  “Alinor,” Kell snarls, and I glance at Kell, surprised. Her eyes are now a dangerous, cold blue, and she's leaning forward on the table, her hackles up, her palms pressed to the table's surface. “This is not yours to speak of,” she hisses, but Alinor simply shrugs.

  “You know as well as I do that a nice bedding would do Attis a world of good. It'd get her mind off her troubles, that's for certain,” says Alinor, with a shake of her head. “Anyway, 'scuse me,” she slurs, pushing off from the table and staggering toward a far back door—what I assume leads toward an approximation of a restroom.

  Kell is suddenly in the space that Alinor vacated, moving seamlessly, like a dancer, around the women. If Alinor's drunk, Kell's not even tipsy. Or maybe she's this graceful even when tipsy; it's impossible to tell. Kell leans toward me and clears her throat. “Forgive her. She always says whatever's on her mind,” Kell tells me, but her expression is icy as she gazes at me now. “But that really does beggar the question, Josie: why are you traveling with Attis?”

  “I...came from another world,” I tell her, shrugging helplessly. “I mean, Attis found me when I came through from another world. Or...I found Attis. I mean, I fell on Attis.” Great. The beer is making me extra honest. Fantastic. “So I couldn't find a way to get back home, and Attis says that someone might be able to help me return. Someone who lives in Arktos City. And since she was going there, anyway, she said I could come along.”