by John Booth
“That must have taken a lot of work,” Daniel said, and whistled in admiration. His whistle drew the attention of a guard, partly hidden by the wall.
“What do you want?” the man shouted. He stood on a walkway behind the wall, many feet off the ground.
“We’ve come to see Lord Janor,” Jalia said. “He invited us this morning.”
The guard was not impressed.
“Go away and come back tomorrow. Lord Janor sees no one in the evening.”
Jalia drew the throwing knife on her belt and used its point to clean her nails. “But he promised,” she said in a wheedling voice.
“Go away,” the guard repeated, leaning over the wall to get closer to her.
“If you insist.”
Jalia turned from the guard. She tossed and spun the knife in the air, catching it so she held it by the tip, turned towards the guard and threw it with deadly accuracy. The blade spun brightly through the air before burying itself into his throat. The man gasped and fell over the wall to land at their feet, clearly dead.
“Show off,” Daniel said dryly and Jalia stuck her tongue out at him as she recovered her knife from the body.
“Magic Ring, open the gates,” Jalia commanded and the solid wooden gates swung open. “We could have climbed over, but I’m feeling lazy.”
They entered the compound and Jalia refastened the gates. A two story stone building stood imposingly in front of them. An oak door reinforced with thick iron bars the only means of entry.
“I bet you it’s unlocked,” Jalia said, and so it proved. “You owe me,” she told Daniel with some satisfaction as she held it open for him. Daniel couldn’t help grinning at her attitude to life. She was refreshingly insane.
“I don’t recall taking the bet.”
“You didn’t say so fast enough, so you still owe me. You save the children while I go and slaughter some pigs.”
Daniel moved quietly down the central corridor. Jalia turned right towards a spiral staircase. The villagers had described the layout of the building to them and Janor and his men were most likely up on the first floor. The dungeon was on the ground floor, at the back of the building.
Daniel walked towards the dungeon with his dagger at the ready. There were three men left to take care of not counting Janor, and they could be anywhere.
“Stay back or I’ll kill the kids,” a man shouted through the gloom. There was a lantern ahead and Daniel continued to walk steadily towards it. By its light, he saw an open door and a man standing inside it. Five children were manacled to chains set into the wall. The mercenary held a frightened little girl, with his knife pressed against her throat.
“Kill away,” Daniel offered. “None of them mean anything to me. I am after Janor’s gold, not his children.”
The man pushed the girl to one side and tried to draw his sword. Daniel’s dagger was embedded in his heart before he could raise it.
“Everything will be fine,” Daniel told the whimpering children. “I’m here to rescue you. You don’t happen to know, by any chance, where the keys to your shackles are kept?”
Jalia heard the sound of drunken laughter, male and female, coming from a room. She pushed open the door and walked in. Two men were drinking alcohol while they chased five young women across the room. All were in various states of undress. The girls looked at Jalia with a look of puzzlement that quickly changed to fear as they saw the sword in her hand.
“Run along ladies and I won’t hurt you.” Jalia waved her sword for emphasis. “I would head away from the village if I were you. They might not be too friendly to you when Janor is dead.” The girls took the hint, and grabbing what clothes they could find as they ran for the door.
“We’ll take you easy,” one of the men said. He had a large scar across his face and looked angry.
“Get her,” shouted his companion, and the men rushed at her, picking up stools on the way.
“Not much of a fight,” Jalia said quietly a couple of minutes later. She looked down at the dead men. “Stools versus sword is not much of a contest.”
She stepped over the bodies and cracked open the door to the room beyond. A lantern burned beside the bed. At first, Jalia thought Janor was lying face down on the bed on his own. Then she saw the legs of a little girl beneath him and heard her whimpering.
Jalia crept into the room and took the knife from her belt. Daniel had mentioned his brother’s injury to her and she had wondered how much it must have hurt. Here was an excellent opportunity to carry out an experiment and discover for herself.
Janor screamed in agony as the blade slid in. Jalia dragged him off the little girl and onto the floor. She picked up the girl and cuddled her, turning the child so she could see the man writhing on the floor.
Janor tried to pull the knife out from where it was embedded in his backside, screaming in his pain. His hands slipped on his blood and he could not remove it.
“You see,” Jalia told the little girl. “He doesn’t like it either.”
Jalia put the little girl down on the bed and drew her sword. Janor’s screams were cut short as she sliced his head from his body.
The next day, Daniel and Jalia prepared to leave the village. They walked past the spot where Birt’s body swung silently from a tree. Daniel fastened the last of their packs to the donkeys. Neither of them wanted to linger in the village. The people had their own actions to think about and being around would not make that easier on them.
A man walked towards them leading a beautiful grey horse. “This horse belonged to Lord Janor and we would like to present it to you,” he said, giving Jalia the reins. Jalia grinned with delight. She would be able to scout ahead in style from now on.
“Thank you.”
It was a moment’s work to get into the saddle. She rode out of the village at a gallop and vanished up the trail.
“I’ll catch up eventually,” Daniel said wryly and led his donkey train after her. Every eye in the village watched him until he was finally gone from sight.
Man in a Skirt
The forest became denser as Jalia and Daniel traveled further north. Massive oaks dominated beech and chestnut trees while tall ferns filled the forest floor between them. Jalia followed what was little more than a rabbit track as she rode a mile or more ahead of Daniel and his donkeys. It was getting late in the day and she knew she ought to be looking for a camp site.
Jalia had lost all feelings of fascination with the forest and longed to see a decent road and a city again, any city, including the ones where there was a price on her head. Even the new freedom of riding a horse instead of walking was beginning to bore her. She needed stimulation and believed that if she woke one more day to the sight of foliage and chirping birds she just might scream.
She had agreed with Daniel that it was far too dangerous to leave the trail. There could be fallen trees or deep holes beneath the ferns and she couldn’t risk her horse’s life by riding through them. It was all proving very annoying.
Jalia heard a scream and knew at once it was human. It was a distinctive sound, someone was screaming in fear of their life. The sound seemed to be coming from a long way in the distance. Turning her horse towards the sea of ferns she urged him forward. The grey stepped fearlessly into them, trusting Jalia to lead him true. Despite the urgency, Jalia kept her horse’s pace down to a fast walk, leaning forward in the saddle to try and judge the safety of the ground up ahead.
Twenty minutes later, Jalia began to doubt the wisdom of her decision. She had seen nothing that might be considered a trail and there had been no more screams to guide her. She resolved to turn around and make her way back if she saw nothing in the next five minutes.
Ten minutes later, her horse stepped into a large glade. A artificial looking small round hill lay in front of her. At the top of the hill, a single impressive oak spread its massive branches. The sides of the hill were covered in an ocean of tall waving grasses. Insects buzzed in profusion around her.
It to
ok Jalia a few seconds to see the dark shape struggling on the end of a rope from the lowest branch of the oak. She urged her horse up the hill as fast as the beast would go.
As she got closer, the shape resolved into that of a girl wearing a short skirt. A noose was around her neck and her hands clung to the rope above her head as she desperately tried to avoid strangulation. There was a large area of neatly trimmed grass beneath the tree, and as Jalia got closer to the top of the hill she saw a wide track had been cut through the grass leading down the other side.
The girl’s legs dangled only a foot or so above the ground. Her skirt swung wildly as she kicked and the rope cut deeper into her throat. Jalia pulled her sword from its scabbard on her back and stood in her stirrups to slash the rope neatly in two just above the girl’s flailing fingers.
She fell to the ground and Jalia saw the girl’s face for the first time. The thin beard of a young man came as a complete surprise. This lessened the shock a few seconds later, when his skirt lifted on falling, and she saw male organs on display. In seemed he didn’t care for underwear. She waited for the man to recover from the shock of his fall and wondered why he wore a skirt. Jalia noted in that part of her brain that weighed up potential enemies that the man was about her height and very thin.
He clawed free of the noose around his neck. Jalia had never seen a man wear a skirt before and the more she looked at it the less it looked like any skirt she knew. It was made from vertical strips of grey leather, each perhaps an inch and a half across and a quarter of an inch thick. A heavy wool lining held the strips together, being fastened to the centre line of each strip. It looked extremely uncomfortable. The man wore a leather jerkin made of similarly looking leather. It was sleeveless, which was probably essential if he wanted to be able to move while wearing it.
“Thank you, my name is Tobin,” the young man croaked. “I don’t think I could have lasted much longer.”
“I am Jalia. Were you being punished for dressing as a woman?”
Tobin’s face flushed beneath his beard and his fists clenched convulsively.
“This is a kald, not a skirt. Warriors in Haldeth have worn them since before the time of the Magician Kings.”
“So what’s a young warrior doing hanging from a tree?”
Tobin rubbed at the dark red burn marks on his neck. He was going to be scarred for life from his brush with death.
“I had a disagreement with a man called Yandar. His men strung me up and left me to die.”
“You could have pulled yourself up the rope, if you had been strong enough.”
Tobin’s lips formed into a snarl before he controlled himself and affected a van smile instead.
“No one ever has.”
When Tobin stood up a sense of déjà vu ran through Jalia. The man’s clothes reminded her of something, if she could only work out what. Then it came to her.
“I’ve seen men dressed like you before. In a painting of a battle hanging in the Palace in Bagdor. Not that any man I know would be seen dead wearing a skirt.”
“It’s a kald. The leather strips are hardened so a slashing sword blow or knife will not penetrate.”
Jalia noted his clenched fists as he spoke. Tobin seemed to get angry easily, or perhaps his recent experience had shortened his temper.
“Do all the men in Haldeth wear skirts?”
Tobin took a step towards her and Jalia smiled. Something in her look must have given him warning because he stopped and took a deep ragged breath.
“Only warriors wear the kald. We protect Haldeth from raiders.”
Jalia stood in her stirrups and looked around. There was nobody in sight, but she felt she had stayed here long enough.
“Well, it was pleasant meeting you. I have to go. Daniel will be wondering where I’ve got to.”
“You can’t just leave me. Yandar will kill me if he catches me.”
“You can come with me if you can keep up.”
Jalia turned her horse and set off down the hill. Tobin stood for a few seconds with his mouth open in surprise before running after her.
Jalia moved slowly enough to let Tobin to keep her in sight, but kept her horse moving fast enough to prevent him catching up. His labored breathing was noticeable in a forest that was largely silent. She wondered why this Yandar person had strung Tobin up. It was none of her business and it was probably for nothing worse than she’d done herself, but she noted that Tobin seemed to lose his temper easily.
It was no effort to retrace the trail her horse had cut through the forest and she soon returned to the point where she had first heard Tobin’s scream. It was equally no surprise to find Daniel and his donkeys waiting for her.
“I see you got bored with the road.”
“Daniel, not even you could think this a road.”
“I thought we agreed on no detours?” Daniel sounded angry, but he smiled as he spoke.
“I heard a scream. Tobin the screamer is following right behind me.”
“Does your woman delight in insulting all the men she meets?” a breathless Tobin said as he reached the trail.
Daniel looked Tobin over critically. Probably less than twenty years old, Tobin had trouble written all over him. Daniel didn’t need to see the rope burn around his neck to recognize that. He frowned at Jalia who chose to ignore him.
“Jalia is famed for her wit and charm. I’m Daniel al’Degar. There’s a clearing a few hundred yards ahead where we can make camp for the night. If you’d care to join us?”
Tobin looked back into the forest and the trail they left, and then shrugged.
“I would be delighted.”
Jalia found and killed several rabbits while Daniel set up camp. Tobin didn’t offer to help, but paced around the clearing looking back the way he had come. As the sun set and darkness fell, he appeared to relax a little, but the slightest sound brought him to his feet.
Daniel expertly skinned the rabbits and cut vegetables for the stew. He was always looking for edible plants on the trail and had found a patch of wild onions that day. He added spices when he put the sliced onions in the boiling water of the pot. It would take some time to cook.
Daniel poked at the fire with a stick. It was burning lopsidedly within its ring of stones and his poke spread the logs a little more evenly. The stew pot rested on two stones set in the fire and its contents bubbled merrily. He looked up at Tobin who watched him restlessly. He found the skirt Tobin wore every bit as fascinating as Jalia had.
“I’ve seen leather shields before, and smocks, but nothing coming down that low. Don’t you find it uncomfortable?”
Tobin shifted his gaze to the edge of the camp. One of Daniel’s donkeys had trodden on a twig.
“You get used to it. The only trouble is you can’t wear underwear with it as it catches against the lining.”
Daniel grinned.
“Well, I suppose it leaves you always ready for action.”
Jalia snorted from the other side of the camp. “Boys have one track minds.”
Tobin turned towards Jalia and shouted. “I’m not a boy. I can show you if you want.”
Daniel put out a hand in a gesture to calm Tobin down. The man seemed to ready to a fight at the slightest excuse.
“The stew will be ready soon.”
Jalia walked jauntily over. She and Tobin were the same height and Jalia stuck her face into his.
“You don’t have the balls for it. I know. I’ve seen them. Even Daniel’s are bigger.”
Tobin clenched his fists.
Sounds from the trail brought the confrontation to a halt. Daniel turned to see four men standing at the edge of the clearing. They were dressed like Tobin and their swords were drawn.
Daniel put up a hand in greeting.
“Welcome.”
A muffled sound behind him caused him to turn. Tobin had grabbed Jalia from behind, clamping one hand over her mouth while the other held a knife to her throat. Daniel touched his dagger in preparation but Jal
ia gave him a subtle hand gesture saying, ‘don’t’. Despite the knife at her throat, she looked remarkably composed.
“I am Yandar of Haldeth and these are my men. That…” Yandar pointed at Tobin. “Raped my daughter and beat her half to death.”
“She was begging for it.” Tobin said and smirked, pressing the knife onto Jalia’s throat. “Then she claimed she didn’t want me to do it, the bitch. Well, I showed her.”
Daniel realized the knife at Jalia’s throat was one of her own. He relaxed as the implications sank in.
Yandar stepped closer to Tobin and Daniel moved swiftly between the men. Yandar stood nearly a foot taller than Daniel, but he made no attempt to push him aside. When Daniel spoke, it was with carefully calculated words.
“From what Jalia’s told me, Tobin hasn’t got the equipment to rape anyone.”
Tobin snarled and moved the knife from Jalia’s throat to threaten Daniel. Jalia reached to the hand over her mouth and broke Tobin’s little finger with a simple flick of her hand. He screamed.
Spinning around, she brought her knee up sharply. While well capable of turning a blade the leather skirt provided little protection from Jalia’s slim knee which pushed between two of the strips before it reached his balls. Her hands grabbed his head and pulled it down. She spun on the spot, putting his head into an arm lock as she twisted.
A loud crack sounded in the clearing and Tobin fell to the ground, his head at an unnatural angle.
“I wanted to know if we should kill Tobin or them.” Jalia said “Letting him grab me seemed the easiest way to find out.”
“You appear to think you had the choice,” Yandar growled.
Daniel sighed bleakly before answering. “We did.”
After they concluded formal introductions, Daniel invited the men to share the stew he’d prepared. From the eagerness with which they consumed it, he concluded that his spices rarely reached villages this far into the forest.
Yandar burped in contentment as he licked the gravy from his plate.
