by Loki Renard
Though the woman had not made a single threat, Liz nevertheless nodded quickly. The threat wasn't in Trebuchet's words, or even her actions, it was inherent in her aura. "Sorry," Liz squeaked.
"If you want to speak like an enemy, you will be treated as one," Trebuchet continued. "And I do not take prisoners, you understand?"
Liz was so afraid she could barely draw breath, but a hurried nod seemed to satisfy the angry warrior. Trebuchet stood up, pulling Liz to her feet as well, and a second later, hoisted Liz back over her shoulder. There was no more fighting, and Liz never saw the little wink Trebuchet flickered at Vix and Moon as the party continued on their way.
*****
Ayla was in quiet repose, thinking of little at all when her tent flap was flung open and Trebuchet stooped through the entrance, a familiar figure in her arms. She was followed closely by Vix and Moon.
"Are you Ayla?"
"I am."
"I am Trebuchet," Trebuchet said unnecessarily. "I think you know this one." She dumped the now completely insensate Liz on the floor. "She ate her fill of poisonous leaves. Moon tells me you can heal anyone of anything. For her sake, I hope that's true."
"Not quite," Ayla said with a small smile. "Though her confidence is charming."
Contrary even unconsciousness, Liz spoiled the moment by convulsing and emptying her stomach on the ground, aided by Trebuchet's hand pressing against her shoulders to turn her on her side so it did not flow back into her lungs.
"I think she might die," Trebuchet said grimly as she crouched next to Liz's relatively slight frame. "It would be a pity."
"What did she take?"
"Leaves," Vix said, handing a sample over.
Ayla nibbled on the edge of one. "Ah," she said. "Blue Lady."
"Yes!" Vix said. "She was chattering on about seeing a lady who told her to eat them."
"She picked an odd time to start obeying,” Ayla mused dryly.
"Will she recover?" Moon's expression was anxious.
"Fully," Ayla reassured Moon. "What she has taken is an ordeal poison. She will be very ill for a day or so, but she will return to full health soon enough."
"Of course," Vix muttered. "A fool never comes to any real harm. Good people die whilst idiots live... OW!"
Her exclamation arose as a result of the clip Trebuchet stood in order to deliver to the side of her head. Covering her ear, she looked at the warrior in shock.
"Do not speak so lightly of death," Trebuchet snapped.
Vix had obviously never been struck by Trebuchet before, the look of betrayal in her gaze was clear to Ayla. Without a word, she turned and left the tent, her hand still clasped to her face.
"Why did you..." Moon half gasped the question. "That was not necessary!" She followed after Vix, leaving Trebuchet and the unconscious Liz in Ayla's tent.
"I probably should not have done that," Trebuchet admitted, scratching the back of her head. "Just dealing with this..." she gestured down to Liz, who managed to look slightly smug and arrogant even whilst passed out.
"She can be trying," Ayla commiserated. "I will look after this one, if you'd like to make your apologies."
*****
"I'm sorry about that," Trebuchet said, finding Vix and Moon in their usual hiding spot behind Kira's tent. "My reflex got the better of me."
Vix shrugged and said nothing. Moon looked on, saying little, but her gaze was distinctly reproving.
Trebuchet tilted her head and put her hands on her hips, her broad, tall frame towering over Vix as she sulked, arms folded over her chest, back against a tree. "Are you going to be sullen with me, Vixen?"
"She does whatever she likes, usually something stupid and everybody is on her side. I open my mouth once and I get hit," Vix said, answering a question that hadn't been asked.
"You are held to a higher standard," Trebuchet said.
"Why?" Vix flung one arm in the air. "Why can I not behave like a fool and be treated like royalty? There are no consequences for Liz."
"The consequence for Liz is having to be Liz," Trebuchet said. "Day after day, there she is, herself."
"Being catered to," Vix continued. "Being given attention. Nobody is allowed to say a word against her. Nobody is allowed to call her the loon she is."
"Do you want the attention she gets?"
"That's not what I mean."
"Isn't it?" Trebuchet's lips twisted wryly. "I think you're jealous."
"Of course I am. I spend my days doing the right things, working hard, being respectful. And what does it get me? I am ignored. She is a danger to everyone around her, she makes life miserable for those who must tolerate her presence, and still she is protected. Why?"
"Doing the right thing is its own reward."
"No," Vix scowled. "It is not. It is becoming clearer to me that there is no reward for doing the right thing. Doing the right thing is for fools - I am more foolish even than her for keeping silent and obeying orders and accepting what I am given. Well no more. From this point on, I will do as I please and say what I please."
Trebuchet reached out, took Vix by the arm, spun her about and pushed her face first against a tree. Smushed against rough bark, Vix did not have the breath to talk, but she found some to yowl with as Trebuchet's great palm landed three times across the seat of her britches.
"This is the reward you get for throwing a fit," Trebuchet informed her. "Is this what you want?"
She slapped Vix three times more, each swat landing like a thunderclap. Vix drew a deep breath, shocked by the power of the swats and the pain which blossomed from each one. Never before had she been on the receiving end of such harsh discipline, she had not expected the heat and the ache which consumed her flesh. Shame flushed her skin as she realized what she had become, another yowling brat to be censured by a superior. It was not a role she relished, especially since it turned Trebuchet from a friend into a commander. When she let her breath out, it was in a wail for mercy.
Heeding her cry, Trebuchet pulled her from the tree and wrapped her arms around Vix from behind in a bear hug. "Don't make me do that again, Vixen," she murmured in Vix's ear. "I don't like having to do that."
"Neither," Vix agreed. Her eyes were pricking with tears and her bottom was stinging and she felt every inch the fool she had so ranted about.
"I am sorry I clipped you in the first place," Trebuchet said, releasing her. "You didn't deserve that."
"It's okay," Vix mumbled, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve.
"You saved that woman's life, you know that?" Trebuchet continued. "You were a hero today."
"No I wasn't," Vix said, smiling in spite of herself.
"Yes, you were." Trebuchet insisted. "And annoying as she may be, her life means something. Which means your actions meant something. You're more important than you think you are, Vixen."
Blushing, Vix tried to hide her ever growing smile, but failed.
"You just got spanked," Moon giggled from the edge of the clearing. "I never thought I'd see the day goody good Vix got a punishment."
"Oh no?" Trebuchet turned to her lover. "What do you think will happen to you for teasing her about it?"
Moon grinned, her expression arch. "Something nice?" She said in hopeful, playful tones.
"Nice for me," Trebuchet growled with faux aggression. "Not so nice for you."
Chapter Thirteen
That evening, Kira, Ayla and Trebuchet held counsel in Kira's tent. There was much to discuss, and much to learn. Ayla and Trebuchet were as strangers to one another, and though each behaved with respect there was a wary distance on both sides.
"Who are you taking your orders from, if you have not seen Ariadne?" Ayla asked the question with a genuine curiosity.
Kira took a swig from a silver tankard and rested her boot clad feet on a stool. Her hair was braided once more, one long dark tendril of loose hair curling down to her shoulder, meeting the tattoo which swam and swirled from her shoulder to her elbow. Perhaps it was just a tr
ick of the light, but the markings seemed darker than they had been in a long time. Previously they had faded so much as to be almost unnoticeable.
"Who says I have not seen Ariadne?"
"Vix does not believe she exists," Ayla replied. Her posture was very collected as she sat tall in a leather chair, her hands folded in her lap. Her expression was likewise restrained, giving little away. "None of these young ones believe, aside perhaps from Liz, and I do not know if she truly believes or if she simply wants to. It is obvious that Ariadne has not made her presence known. If she had, there would be no question as to the reality of her existence."
"Ariadne does not need to convince the lower ranks of her existence," Kira shrugged. "They do as they are told."
Trebuchet snorted. She and Ayla exchanged knowing looks, a quiet understanding passing between them.
"Don't snort," Kira said. "I know I do not maintain traditional discipline, but I left the army a long time ago. There is more than one way to do things."
"That way is probably not to fail to do them at all," Ayla said dryly. "I have seen many wars, many soldiers, many camps. I have never seen one so lacking in basic discipline. It makes me wonder if you have any intention of going to battle at all, or if you have simply surrounded yourself with lost souls happy to play soldier."
Any hint of a smile fell off Trebuchet's face. Kira did not look pleased in the slightest.
"What concern of it is yours?" It was Kira's turn to ask an inconvenient question. "You are here waiting for an opportunity to start a fight with a goddess."
"You want to fight Ariadne?" Trebuchet chimed in with the question.
"Fight is not the word," Ayla replied.
"Yes it is," Kira said. "You won't use the word because you think it is beneath you."
Ayla made no immediate response, but she was holding tension in her back and shoulders and her expression was more guarded than ever.
"Where is your family?"
Trebuchet's question seemed to surprise Ayla.
"I have no family."
"You are elf," Trebuchet said bluntly. "The elves are very long lived. You must have family."
"Only part of my blood is theirs, and they have never been my family," Ayla replied. "I have lived on my own for a very long time."
"All the more reason to go back to them."
"Thank you for trying to help," Ayla said politely.
It was Trebuchet and Kira's turn to exchange looks.
"Ayla does not take advice or aid," Kira explained. "She does as she pleases, even when it is wildly ill-advised, or, in this case, completely destructive."
"I have taken care of your people," Ayla replied. "I would not call that destructive."
"That's what you always do, take care of others and let yourself pay the price."
"I wasn't aware that taking care of others was such a terrible thing."
"It's not, but you have to take care of yourself first," Kira said. "And you have no interest in yourself. You're a shade of the woman I once knew."
"I am old," Ayla said, passing a graceful hand across her forehead to drag a wisp of hair out of her crystalline eyes. "I am not the woman you once knew."
Kira took another long swig, then placed her vessel down on the table beside her. "You saved my life once, when I was an impetuous whelp eager for death. I will preserve yours now. Trebuchet, yours was a good idea. You will escort Ayla to her people."
"I do not have a people," Ayla reiterated before Trebuchet could agree. "I am an outcast, born of a pariah. I am not welcome among the elves, nor am I interested in visiting with them. I value your friendship, Kira, but not your interference in these matters."
There was a long stony silence, broken by Trebuchet.
"Once, when I was young, I took my mother's favorite sword and went into the woods and played at war," she said. "I shattered the blade when I swung it at a tree. I was so afraid of what she would say that I stayed in the woods for three days and three nights. I knew she would be angry about the sword, and I could not face her with the truth of what I had done."
"This tale sounds suspiciously like it might have some kind of moral," Ayla said tiredly.
"You have a guilty conscience," Trebuchet replied, her dark gaze perceptive. "You are trying to atone for some sin, I think."
"You wish to know my story?" A humorless smile passed over Ayla's lips. "I came into this world inside a prison from which I was not released until I had come of age. At that time, I was sent into the world of woman. Here I have made my home. I will not return."
"That is very sad. I have learned that a single act of cruelty can resonate throughout a lifetime," Trebuchet said, her expression serious. "It must be cleansed. You should go back to your people."
Ayla fixed Trebuchet with a look of pure will. "I will not return."
"Well you won't start a war with Ariadne either," Kira said just as firmly. "I don't care how many bottoms you spank or lives you save, you are not immortal and you are not disposable."
"I tire of this conversation," Ayla said. "I think I will go to bed."
Trebuchet was looking at her with a steady gaze. The burly warrior did not seem impressed by her advanced age, nor by her aptitude for healing, or her mastery of magic.
"I think that would be best," Trebuchet agreed. "You're going to get yourself into trouble if you keep speaking with that tone."
A small smirk crossed Ayla's lips. "I am beyond trouble," she said tiredly. "You're sweet, but you are like a mayfly to me, so forgive me if I do not seem as concerned by your threats as Vix or Moon."
"I have never been called a mayfly before," Trebuchet chuckled. "But I do know that in this camp, the chain of command is Kira, then myself."
"And I know that this camp will likely not be here tomorrow for having torn itself apart in petty bickering and mead soaked brawling," Ayla replied, her tone uncharacteristically testy.
"Go to bed, witch," Trebuchet said. "Let us worry about the camp and the war. You worry about your hide."
Kira had poured herself another drink whilst Ayla and Trebuchet verbally sparred. Her smile was broad as she took a sip and watched as Ayla, the great forest witch, she who had lived many centuries and survived many friends and lovers, grew almost petulant.
She was however, spared a show. With a great effort, Ayla summoned the dignity to bid the pair of them a good night, spin on her heel and leave the tent without further argument.
"That girl needs to go home," Trebuchet reiterated when Ayla was gone.
"Girl," Kira chuckled. "That is Ayla you are talking about. She was old before your grandmother was born."
"I don't care if she's as old as the sun," Trebuchet replied. "This war is a war on magic. She is what we are fighting to protect."
"I don't think that's crossed her mind," Kira said. "She's never known anything but persecution, I don't think she notices wars anymore."
"You think she hasn't noticed that she's the last witch in Lesbia?"
"Honestly? No. It's been that long since she left the house," Kira said. "I don't think she has an inkling of the danger she is in. Your idea is a good one though, tomorrow, we will pack up camp and make for the elven glade."
"And if Ayla doesn't want to come?"
"We won't tell her where we're going," Kira smiled rakishly. "She's been so distracted by Vix and Moon and Liz and her own grief, I don't think she'd notice if we marched into the glade itself and sat her down before the elven queen."
"And Ariadne?"
Kira's eyes twinkled. "Don't worry about Ariadne."
Chapter Fourteen
Liz was groaning in the corner of Ayla's tent when the witch returned, a welcome distraction for Ayla who was experiencing the discomfort of having Trebuchet's words ringing in her ears.
"My stomach feels like it is trying to tear itself out of my belly," Liz said through clenched teeth.
"Sit up," Ayla replied. She went to her bag and drew out two satchels of herbs, as well as a mortar and
pestle. She gave the mortar and pestle to Liz and put a pinch of leaves from each satchel in the mortar. "Grind that up," she said. "Fine as possible."
Liz's features assumed a most plaintive configuration. "You are going to make me work in my condition?"
"If you want to feel better, grind."
