by K. B. Bogen
The pain in his head intensified and he clutched at his temple, swaying. He remembered thinking he’d get some sleep just before he was clobbered.
Sleep, hah! Never again would he believe that being knocked unconscious was as good as getting some rest.
Before his head had time to settle, the woman grabbed him roughly and pushed him through the flap of a tent. Apparently, they weren’t too worried about him escaping, or they would have stashed him in something more substantial than a tent. They hadn’t even tied his hands.
Erwyn wasn’t sure whether to be frightened, or insulted. Either they thought they had enough steel, and warriors to use it, to keep him from escaping, or they didn’t give him credit for being able to escape on his own. Or they didn’t care. Of the three, Erwyn preferred the first option. It made him feel less incompetent.
They stepped out of the shade of the tent and into the sunlight. He held his hand up to protect his eyes, squinting as he glanced across the compound. Everywhere he looked, he saw women in armor.
Using the steel location spell, he saw that each woman carried as much weaponry as his escort did. Somehow, he got the impression that they didn’t like strangers around there. Or maybe it was magic-users they didn’t care for. And whatever happened to Chesric? He would be right at home in a place like this.
“So, do you do much wizard-hunting around here?” Erwyn remarked casually to his escort while trying to ignore his splitting headache. He was probably taking a big risk, but maybe he could shock her into giving him some information.
“What do you mean?” His guard halted abruptly, watching him with cautious interest.
Erwyn stopped, too, matching the woman stare for stare. “Well, you’re armed to the teeth with all sorts of steel. Either you don’t like magic, or you don’t like intruders. Or both.” Or maybe it was something else entirely.
He’d heard a story once, a long time ago, about a sect of female warriors. But he thought they lived quite some distance away. The description fit, though. Mostly.
He took a shot. “You’re Marlian warriors, aren’t you?”
“None of your damn business, man.” The woman made a curse of the word. “You won’t be alive long enough for it to matter, in any case.” She punctuated her statement with another shove.
“I’m not trying to pry or anything. It’s just that ... ”
“What?”
“I don’t understand. From what I’d heard, I thought Marlian warriors fought alongside their men. Where are they?”
“Never mind that. You’ll be given all the explanation you need in a few minutes.”
Erwyn decided to try a different tactic. “In case you’re interested, steel isn’t really much help against wizardry and stuff.”
She didn’t look convinced. And the change in subject hadn’t improved her mood any.
“Don’t tell me you believe all that hogwash about steel being proof against magic? It doesn’t really work, you know.”
“You’ll speak when you’re spoken to.” The woman gave him another shove in the direction they had been heading, sending the boy sprawling in the dirt.
“I just thought you might want to know,” he mumbled.
It occurred to Erwyn that she’d never answered his questions, either.
Then again, maybe she had.
After a moment, he got to his feet. His head seemed to have started pounding again.
They continued their walk, weaving in and out between the tents. Erwyn took the time to look around.
It was a big camp. Cooking pots hung suspended above crackling fires in front of some of the tents. Female warriors in various states of battle dress stood in front of others.
Very conspicuous, Erwyn thought.
About the third or fourth time they passed the same blonde washing her shirt, Erwyn figured out they were trying to trick him.
Really! He might be a man, but he wasn’t that stupid. Of course, it wasn’t a bad ploy, if he stopped to think about it. A lot of people might have been too preoccupied to notice.
“You seem to have quite a large force encamped here.” He placed a slight emphasis on the word “seem.” The woman only grunted, but Erwyn noticed that her grip on his arm tightened.
Smiling to himself, Erwyn changed tactics. “Do you have a name?”
“I said no talking!” She shoved him again, causing his head to complain some more.
Erwyn decided to be quiet.
After a while, he heard a voice behind him say, “Lariyn.”
“Huh?” Erwyn stumbled, but caught himself.
“My name is Lariyn.” The woman’s voice softened. Almost, but not quite, friendly.
“Mine’s Erwyn,” he replied. “For a few more minutes, anyway.”
He wanted to turn to look at the woman, at Lariyn, but he really had no desire to renew his acquaintance with the ground. No point in pushing his luck.
“So who hit me, and what did they hit me with?”
“I did,” Lariyn said. “With this.”
Erwyn risked his look at her.
Lariyn held a quilted square of cloth, eight inches on a side and about three inches thick.
“You hit me with a pillow?” That was different. But it didn’t explain the headache, or his ability to remember every moment up to being hit.
“It’s filled with Insensibilitea.” She sounded almost apologetic.
“Oh, well, that explains it.”
Insensibilitea knocks you out but allows you to remember the events before. And gives you a raging headache, as well. The aftereffects were, according to some of the Masters, similar to a really bad hangover. Without any of the fun.
“I suppose it could have been worse,” Erwyn commented. Considering the number of weapons she carried, a lot worse.
They continued in silence. Erwyn was not sure how far, or how long, they had walked, but he felt fairly certain they had almost reached their goal, whatever that was.
In the first place, they were approaching a large clearing in the tents. Possibly the meeting area of the camp, he thought. Secondly, and to Erwyn most important, a group of heavily armed and apparently irate women milled about in the center of the clearing.
He stretched on tiptoes, straining to learn what, exactly, they were clustering around. Whatever it was, he couldn’t see it.
He did notice, however, one very important thing lacking in the crowd. Men. He’d already pointed out to Lariyn that he didn’t see any males of any age in the camp. He’d sort of hoped they’d be wherever Lariyn was taking him. But there weren’t any to be seen.
Erwyn and his guard approached the crowd of spectators. Beneath the openly hostile stares of the women, he felt himself blushing. Once more he wondered where Chesric had disappeared to. He could use some moral support.
The crowd parted in front of Erwyn, leaving him a wide aisle to the center of the gathering. There he found an answer to two of his questions.
Chesric stood on a low platform, surrounded by four women. Each held a large sword pointed straight at the old knight, who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. He stood on the platform rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots like a child at the fair.
When they’d started their walk, Erwyn had wondered whether or not to be insulted by the lack of guards and restraints. Now he knew.
Chesric had four guards, Erwyn had one. They obviously thought Chesric to be the more formidable opponent.
The idea rankled. Surely a sorcerer ought to be counted as an opponent to be reckoned with. Briefly, he considered the odds. One journeyman sorcerer with thirteen spells, fourteen if he counted a useless glitter spell. Uh-huh.
Come to think of it, they were probably right. And Erwyn felt no desire to prove them wrong. Not any time soon.
Lariyn prodded him and Erwyn stepped onto the platform. Ch
esric simply smiled, as though this sort of thing happened every day.
“Hi, there, young fella.” Chesric’s accent was back in place. Erwyn smiled, remembering that Chesric never answered his question about the changing accent.
“Together, again.” The guard pushed Erwyn into place beside Chesric. “Some fun, huh?”
“Wouldn’t miss it fer the world, boy.” The old man chuckled. “Adventure is the spice of life.”
“I think I’d prefer my life a little on the bland side right now, thank you.”
The crowd became quiet suddenly. Erwyn and Chesric turned to see, coming up the aisle Erwyn just traveled, another of the female warriors. This one was different, though.
She held her head high, almost regally, as she strode down the pathway. Her armor looked similar to the other women’s, except for the short leather cape swirling behind her. She stood half a head taller than most of the women and seemed to Erwyn to be broader in the shoulders as well.
As the newcomer mounted the platform, Erwyn took a good look at her face. Her dark brown hair, held in place by a twist of silver wire, hung down to slightly below her shoulders. She had high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a wide, expressive mouth.
By Erwyn’s standards, she might have been the most beautiful woman in the world. Except for two things.
One: she was frowning and the look she gave Erwyn made him feel like an intruder, in spite of the fact that it wasn’t his idea to be standing on top of a platform with a bunch of women holding their swords at his back.
And two: she seemed to be in charge of the women who were currently holding their swords at his back.
Considering that he was completely innocent of anything and everything up to this point, her words as she addressed her people took Erwyn somewhat by surprise.
“Warriors of Marli,” her voice rang out across the gathering, “we are met to decide the fate these two male intruders.”
“Intruders! We didn’t ... oof!” An elbow landed in the middle of his stomach.
The woman continued, “We must decide now what manner of death is most appropriate.”
Erwyn looked at Chesric. It was going to be one of those days.
Sweet Talkin’ Guy
Start the Execution Without Me
“WHEN FACED WITH OVERT HOSTILITY, REMAIN CALM. THE LAST THING YOU SHOULD DO IS LET THE ENEMY KNOW YOU’RE FRIGHTENED.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Three: On People and Their Influence
Shouts went up from the crowd of women around the platform. Cheers, jeers, and catcalls assailed them from all sides.
“Now’s the time, boy.” Chesric nudged Erwyn in the ribs.
“Time for what?”
“To do yer stuff. You know. Dazzle ‘em with a little of that there magic. Or baffle ‘em with bullshit. Whatever.”
“Anything in particular? I mean, I could maybe whip up a nice little foxfire ball and shed some light on the proceedings. Only it’s broad daylight and nobody would notice.
“Or maybe I should make a campfire, or heat their cloaks, or levitate myself and fly around the camp singing sea chanteys. That’d really impress ‘em. Just what the hell do you think I should do?”
“Calm down, son. Don’t get excited. Beet red ain’t yer color.”
“Calm down? I’m standing here surrounded by a few dozen women with very sharp swords, who are in the process of trying to decide what’s the best way to kill me, and you want me to calm down?”
“Well, it’s just that ye’d attract a little less notice that way.”
Erwyn looked around. The women were staring at him. And it wasn’t because of his looks. “Too loud, huh?”
“Just a mite,” Chesric replied. “Now that ye’ve got their attention, why don’t ye see if ye can’t get us out of this here per-dicament.”
Chesric spoke a moment too late. The woman who seemed to be the leader of the Marlians glared at Erwyn. Or, more precisely, at Erwyn’s chest.
“The boy’s a magic-user.”
Though barely above a whisper, her voice carried to the entire crowd. Angry murmurs rippled through the clearing. It was bad enough he was male. Now they knew he was a sorcerer as well. Double trouble.
“Burn him. Burn them both.”
Great! Erwyn wondered if his refrigeration spell would help. Except that it was intended to preserve steak, not people.
“Burning’s too good for them. Throw them off the cliffs.”
“Draw and quarter them.”
“Cut off his head and hang it from the captain’s tent. That’s the way to deal with wizards.”
Erwyn felt chills run up his spine. This was getting a little out of hand.
“Better do it soon.” Chesric still looked confident.
Erwyn took a step backward as the crowd edged forward. “Do what?”
“Whatever comes natural!” Chesric’s voice rose ever so slightly in pitch. It seemed even Chesric could be shaken.
Erwyn understood why, since he had been panicking since he got there.
The spectators surged toward the platform. Their guards, who had moments before been keeping Erwyn and Chesric in, now strove to keep the rest of the crowd out. But five swords against an army ...
“Stop!”
The captain’s voice rang out over the hostile crowd. She only shouted once, and only one word, but it worked. The angry muttering died down.
“Your behavior is unforgivable. You are warriors of Marli. Do not forget that.”
The women were mostly quiet now.
Erwyn gazed at the captain with new interest.
Here was no sticky-sweet damsel seeking an unsuspecting bachelor to drag into marriage. This woman commanded the loyalty of an army of well-trained fighters.
The only trouble he could see was the fact that she was a Marlian and he was a man. Since all of the women in attendance seemed to feel that men were a couple of steps lower than gor-worms, that might be something of an obstacle.
Of course, that was just an unsubstantiated observation. One Erwyn felt inclined to believe, from the comments he’d heard from the crowd.
Then, too, there remained the little matter of avoiding a lynching ... or worse. Well, you can’t fail until you try, or something to that effect.
“Excuse me, Captain.” Erwyn tried to keep his voice steady as the guards turned their swords back toward the captives.
The captain looked at Erwyn in surprise. She might have been less surprised if a gor-worm had spoken instead. Erwyn stood a little straighter.
“You have something to say?”
He tried to pretend she was just one of his instructors during finals. Maybe he could bluff his way out of this.
“It seems to me ... ” Erwyn paused as the angry rumble resumed.
The Marlian captain raised her hand and once more silence reigned.
“It seems to me,” Erwyn tried again, “that the two of us might have something to say on the subject of death. Ours, that is.”
The captain raised one eyebrow at the boy.
Erwyn swallowed and pressed on. Now that he had her attention, he found he could think of plenty to say.
“I mean, where the hell do you people get off deciding to kill us? We didn’t do anything to you. There we were, minding our own business, when someone clobbers us over the head, uh, heads, and drags us away from our campsite.”
As he warmed to the subject, Erwyn’s voice rose in both pitch and volume.
“Then I wake up in a musty old tent, with little men playing with hammers inside my head and someone pointing a sword at my throat. Why? We weren’t bothering you. Why did you kidnap us in the first place?”
Erwyn realized he was yelling and stopped. He glared at the woman defiantly. If they were going to kill him anyway, he might as well have his say first. What could they do? Kill
him twice?
“We have been persecuted since we entered this land.” Her voice had become soft, almost reasonable. “And you say you have done nothing to us?”
“I, personally, didn’t have anything to do with it. Couldn’t you at least go kidnap the people who were actually responsible?”
Erwyn’s guard leaned over and whispered something to the captain. The captain nodded, looking thoughtful, then turned back toward her captives.
She moved closer to Erwyn, towering over him. The boy looked up into a pair of determined grey eyes.
“The men here fear and hate women in general, and women with swords in particular. You are a magic-user. A man of power. The worst kind. Can you honestly say that you’re an exception?”
“As a matter of fact, I can’t, not at this moment. But then, it’s sort of hard not to fear a woman with a sword when she has it pointed at various important parts of one’s anatomy. I’d be afraid of a robin right now, if it had a sword pointed at my, um, middle.”
Erwyn looked nervously at the guards flanking the woman, their swords aimed at an area just below his waist.
“Under other circumstances, though,” he continued, “I don’t think women with swords would bother me much.”
“If so,” the captain replied, “you are either a fool or a very extraordinary man.”
“I’ve been called both, mostly a fool.”
“Who is it that calls you extraordinary, then?”
Erwyn shrugged, embarrassed. “My mother.”
For a moment, Erwyn thought he’d made a serious mistake.
The Marlian captain looked at him, a strange expression on her face. Then she laughed. She had a beautiful laugh. Especially since it meant they might get to live a few minutes longer.
“Come,” she said, motioning to someone out of Erwyn’s view, “we will talk. Let’s see if you can convince me of your ... differences.”
She turned and walked away. The crowd parted to allow her through.
The young sorcerer glared at his companion.
Chesric smiled and shrugged.
“You sure weren’t much help. She could have decided to kill us right here. Diplomacy isn’t my strong suit.”
