by Selina Rosen
"Yes, sorry," Tarius said with a smile. "If I liked men, I'm sure I'd go for you in a heartbeat. However, I'm afraid you would be gravely disappointed in me," Tarius said.
Brakston walked in then. "Where's the surgeon? He said he'd meet me here."
Tarius shrugged. "I cleaned it up and dressed it the way I was taught. I'm sure the surgeon will want to do it all over again when he gets here."
"It feels better all ready," Arvon said. He was starting to get tired.
"He hasn't kept any food down in days. Water either for that matter," Brakston said.
Tarius nodded. "I'll go get him broth then." Tarius left.
Brakston watched him go. "He is a puzzlement that one. Looks like a kid, yet he knows so much more about everything than I do."
"His life has been a hard one," Arvon said.
The surgeon swept into the room then, and ran to Arvon's side. "I'm sorry it took me so long. It's the leg, isn't it?"
Arvon nodded. "It's all right. Tarius has seen to it."
The surgeon looked at the dressing. It was different than he would have done it, but it worked the same way. "Well, he seems to have dressed it properly. Let's just see the leg." He peeled the dressings back, and a frown darkened his face. "The infection has spread; the leg will have to come off."
"You'll not take my leg," Arvon said.
"I'll give you something to kill the pain." He walked over and started mixing powders.
"Isn't there some other way?" Brakston asked.
"I'm afraid not," the surgeon said.
Arvon looked at his partner with panicked eyes. "Don't let them take my leg. I'd rather be dead."
"He will be if we don't take the leg," the surgeon promised. He got out a huge knife and a saw.
"No, no!" Arvon cried. "Please don't do this! Brakston, don't let them do this."
"I want you to live . . ."
"Without the leg he won't live," Tarius had stepped into the room. She looked at the surgeon. "The leg will heal. It was filthy; I cleaned it. If we keep the wound clean and dry, there is a chance that it will heal."
"Sir Tarius, would you challenge my skill as a surgeon? I tell you this man will die unless we remove his leg," the surgeon said.
"And he will die if you do remove his leg," Tarius said. She looked not at the surgeon but at Brakston.
"Listen to me. I have seen what happens with wounds like this, and I have seen what happens when they take a man's arm or his leg. His chances are better with the leg than they are without it." Tarius moved to stand between the surgeon and Arvon.
"Sir Tarius," the surgeon started in a patronizing tone. "I know you have your friend's best interest at heart, but if he doesn't have this surgery soon . . . "
Arvon took hold of Tarius's pants leg, and Tarius looked down at him. "Tarius, a thousand blessings on your head, and on that of your fine lady. My gratitude and loyalty till the day of my death if you save my leg from this butcher."
The surgeon took a step forward with his knives and his saw, and Tarius drew steel.
"The only thing that will be cut off this night is your head if you come one step closer to my friend," Tarius said with venom. "He will live, and he will have both legs."
Brakston drew his blade. "Tarius, good brother, hear me. The surgeon knows what's best in this matter."
Tarius saw the servant in the back take off running, no doubt to go and get Darian. She didn't care. Arvon was her friend, her mentor, and he had made a pledge to her like no person ever had.
Darian and Jena ran in one door as Justin ran in the other.
Darian reviewed the situation keenly. "What's all this then?"
"Arvon needs surgery, and Tarius won't let the surgeon touch him," Brakston explained. He didn't know what to do. Who was wrong? Who was right? The doctor said Arvon would die without surgery. Arvon didn't want the surgery. Brakston didn't want Arvon to die. Tarius said he was as likely to die with the surgery as without it. Brakston was tired, hungry and confused. He knew only one thing for a certainty he did not want to fight Tarius. For one thing, Tarius was his friend, and for another he knew he could not beat Tarius in a sword fight.
"I don't want my leg cut off," Arvon said.
"As long as he doesn't want his leg cut off, I'm not going to allow anyone to do it," Tarius said.
"Jena," Darian said under his breath, as if just realizing she had followed him. "Go back to the house. This is a matter between men."
Jena shrugged and didn't move a muscle. She even had the bad manners to speak. "It's Arvon's leg; it should be his decision," she said.
"Daughter, this is a matter between men," Darian said hotly.
"But she's right," Arvon said. "It is my leg."
"He's filled with fever from the infection. His judgment is skewed! You can't allow him to make this kind of decision now. It must be done for him," the surgeon said.
"Tarius, step aside. The lad will die without the surgery," Justin said in a calm voice.
Tarius stood silent, sword still drawn and ready. It was obvious that he didn't mean to back down.
Darian looked around, carefully trying to weigh out the situation. Arvon was a fighter—a man who didn't want to even consider living without both legs. The surgeon was a proud man who didn't want his decision challenged by the likes of this out-country barbarian. Brakston was war, road- and worry-exhausted, and didn't really know what was right.
That left Tarius. Tarius had made up his mind. They'd have to kill him to go against his will, and Darian doubted that he, Justin and Brakston together could take him. In fact, he was sure that they couldn't.
Besides, as Darian remembered it, Tarius was right. Most men who had amputations died anyway from the shock.
Justin looked at him, obviously anxious for him to make a decision.
"Arvon does not want his leg removed. We all know that none of us can beat Tarius in a fight, and with Tarius as his champion I believe that Arvon's decision will have to stand," Darian said. "Surgeon, put your tools away."
Brakston's steel went back into its sheath, and Tarius's was sheathed at once.
"Fine, but I can tell you I'll have nothing to do with this," the surgeon said. He glared at the out-country wild man. "You think yourself a better surgeon than I. Fine! Let his death be on your head." He stormed out.
Darian motioned with his head for Justin and Brakston to leave, and they did so without question.
Tarius redressed Arvon's wound and covered him. Then he walked over and got the mug of broth he had brought for Arvon. It was still warm, so he helped him to sit up and handed him the mug, which he emptied gratefully. When he had finished it Tarius helped him to lie down. When Tarius set the mug down, Darian motioned for Tarius to join him and Jena.
Jena and Tarius both squirmed, not quite sure which offense they were about to be scolded for. Both were hoping against hope that Darian didn't know about their little romp in the woods. If he knew about either the fighting or the sex, they'd both be in for a beating.
"Can't you just once act like a lady and keep to your place?" Darian said in an angry whisper to Jena.
Jena and Tarius looked at each other and sighed a heavy sigh of relief knowing that they hadn't been caught. Jena even managed a sly smile, and Tarius, red faced, looked quickly away.
"I'm sorry, Father," Jena said.
"Are you really, or are you just telling me what you think I want to hear?" he asked suspiciously.
"Why the former of course, Father," she said sarcastically.
"See that's what I'm talking about, Jena. You're a woman, as such your job is to do as you're told," Darian said.
"She has her own thoughts and ideas," Tarius said hotly. "She's a woman, not a toad. Her thoughts and feelings are as valid as any man's, maybe more so."
Darian literally tugged at his hair. "Ah, Tarius! Can't you see what you are doing? She is bad enough already, but you encourage her to be even worse! It's as if you prefer her because she is head-strong and
messy."
Tarius smiled unashamed, "I do."
"You are mad! You are both quite mad and iritating! You expect the whole world to change for you!" Darian ranted.
Oh, you have no idea how true your words are. If only the world would change for us, then I could be who I am, and Jena could be who she is, Tarius thought.
"Look at you, Jena! No shoes, and your hair looks as if you've been rolling around in the woods!"
Again Jena and Tarius looked at each other with hidden meaning.
"And you Tarius, you can not continue to throw yourself into the middle of things like this. If you are wrong, then Arvon's blood is on your hands."
"No, his blood will be on the hands of an Amalite archer, and at least I will know he died with a full spirit," Tarius said. "I will stay with him till he is well."
She looked at Jena then. "You'll see, he'll live, and he'll have both legs."
"I only hope you're right, or we'll all have to hear about it forever," Darian said. "Come along, Jena."
Jena moved to embrace Tarius, and they kissed.
"Oh, would you just come on!" Darian smiled in spite of himself. "You two bring constant shame upon my head!"
* * *
The next three days were rough. Tarius didn't get much sleep. Arvon shit himself at least a dozen times, and Tarius had to clean him. Each time a humiliated Arvon apologized and Tarius told him to forget it. Tarius forced liquids down Arvon and wiped his brow with cool water. When the fever got too high, Tarius swabbed Arvon's entire body to bring his temperature down. Just before dawn on the third day, the fever finally broke. Arvon had been talking out of his head for most of the night, but as the first lights of dawn slid in the surgery's upper window, Arvon spoke clearly and crisply, startling Tarius out of a near sleep. Tarius rose from the chair she'd been sleeping in and went to Arvon's side.
He was looking at the light that streamed in the window. "My mother was a creature of infinite wisdom and beauty. I often wondered what she saw in my father, who was but a plain and simple farmer." He turned to look at Tarius. "She used to say that in the mists of a fever you saw crazy things, but you also sometimes saw things the way they truly were. Now this is a funny thing you see, because I always believed that I got all of my father's traits and none of my mother's. Yet last night I was sure I saw my own dead mother."
"That's not too odd. I often see my parents in my dreams," Tarius said.
"Ah! But this was odd because I wasn't asleep at the time, and I was looking at you," Arvon said thoughtfully.
Tarius laughed. "Now that is rich. You mistook me for your mother?"
Arvon nodded, troubled now, and not sure of the thought he had been so sure of only moments before. He went on with quiet deliberation. "Yes. I thought you were my mother because, for a moment, you looked just like her."
Tarius left Arvon's side and went to get the glass of water she had drawn earlier.
"See, I haven't told anyone this, but my mother was Kartik," Arvon said.
"Ah! I thought I noticed a bit of the island in your features," Tarius said. "See, I knew we were brothers in more ways than one."
"Well, yes, that's just the thing. Because, you see, my mother said she was Kartik, but in reality she was of a much older people." Arvon looked at Tarius hard then, although Tarius didn't notice, being too occupied with trying to get the overfull glass of water to Arvon. It was too much trouble, so Tarius stopped to take a sip. "You see, Tarius, my mother was the Katabull."
The glass fell away from Tarius's mouth and crashed on the floor, sending pottery shards everywhere. Tarius looked at Arvon in stunned silence.
"Well that explains why the arrow did so much damage," Tarius said.
"So. Was my vision right, Tarius? Are you, the greatest swordsman of the Jethrik, the Katabull?"
Tarius sat on the edge of Arvon's bed carefully. "Yes, I am the Katabull."
"And are you a man or a woman?"
"Did you mean the oath you swore to me?"
"Yes, I did," Arvon said.
"Then yes, I am a woman," Tarius said cautiously.
"Does Jena know?" Arvon asked, lowering his voice still more.
Tarius's features took on a tortured look as she answered. "No. She's young and inexperienced; she knows nothing of the Kartik people, and I make up things about our culture and my religion to cover myself and my methods."
"Do you love her?" Arvon asked.
"With all my heart and with all my soul."
"How long do you think you can fool her, Tarius? How long can you fool everyone including yourself? It's a dangerous game, my sister."
"I know that. But I've made love to her, and she was none the wiser. "
"And what about you? How long are you going to be happy to never have her touch you?" Arvon asked quietly.
"I can't deny my longing for her touch, but I would do anything, absolutely anything, no matter what the sacrifice, to be with her," Tarius said.
"What happens when she wants more than you can give her, Tarius?" Arvon asked gently. "She thinks you're a man."
"I am a man in every way that matters," Tarius said. "I look like a man. I fight like a man. I can satisfy her. What else does she need?"
"It my friend. Eventually she's going to want it, and you ain't got it."
"I'll worry about it when the time comes," Tarius said. "I have to live for today. None of us may have tomorrow. I know it's wrong to deceive her. I tried to run her off—you know that I did. But she wouldn't go. Look at it this way. Any other man here would make her miserable, tie her up and gag her. Only with me can she be the person that she truly is."
"I'm not judging you, my dear friend. I only know what happens when one tries to live in a web of lies. Eventually one strand comes down, and then the whole weaving falls in on itself. Only know this; if there should come a day when that should happen to you, I will be there for you in any way that I can be."
Chapter 6
Two months later they were graduating, and Arvon walked to the ceremony. Everyone said it was a miracle.
The ceremony bored Tarius almost as much as the new uniforms annoyed her. She longed to be back in the black leather she'd grown up in instead of the blue and white gambeson and chain mail shirts with metal pauldrons they were issued. It was cumbersome and noisy. They had practiced in it for months, and she was used to it, but knew she could do better without it.
Jena met her directly after the ceremony, threw her arms around Tarius, and they hugged. Jena made a face. Apparently she didn't like the armor any more than Tarius did. They started walking towards the courtyard away from the great hall. Most of the new Swordmasters would be going home with their families for a massive celebration. Tragon's family had big plans; he'd been telling them about it for weeks. Family and friends had come from all over the kingdom, and they would be having a three-day feast.
There would be no such celebration for the orphaned Tarius. They would save their celebrating for the next month when she and Jena would be married. Tarius wasn't looking forward to that ceremony and would be glad to have it over with. The ceremony would make Jena happy and the sooner the better. Tarius knew she and Tragon would be sent on their internship soon afterwards, and the way things looked now they would spend their "internship" on the front.
Harris rushed to catch up to the couple. He squeezed in between them, putting an arm around each of their shoulders.
"Are we going to fight?" he asked eagerly.
"I hadn't thought of it," Tarius said. She looked around Harris at Jena. "What do you say?"
"I have to change; I'll meet you there." Jena dislodged herself from Harris and ran off towards her father's house.
Harris looked down at his feet suddenly.
"So, what's on your mind?" Tarius asked, she could read him like a book.
"You'll be going away soon," he said.
"But I'll be back," Tarius said. "My wife will be here, and you my brother, you are my family now, Harris."
Tarius felt like an absolute idiot. This was quite obviously what the boy had been hinting at for weeks. It hadn't occurred to her before now, because she simply didn't think in those terms. "So I am. I suppose I should really have a squire then, and since I have already trained you and know you to be as fine and good a person as I have ever known, and as good with a sword as any Swordmaster, I suppose you should be my squire."
The boy pulled back, took Tarius's shoulders in his hands and looked her square in the eyes, "Do you mean it, Tarius?"
"Yes, my brother, I do."
* * *
Darian saw Jena run into the back of the house in a beautiful gown befitting the fiancée of a knight and Swordmaster. A short while later, he saw her come out in something that looked like it had been cast off by a scullery maid. He wondered what she was up to, and having nothing else to do for once, he followed her.
* * *
Jena ran into the field and happily picked up her weapon. Tarius had been letting her spar with Harris, but today Tarius was going to spar with Harris first and he told Jena so. Jena looked somewhat disappointed. She sat on a log and watched Tarius bend over and shed the hated chain mail.
"Don't worry, my love, your time will come," Tarius said with a smile.
Jena smiled seductively, "You know I hate waiting."
* * *
Darian heard the familiar sound of practice swords. Up ahead of him he could just make out a clearing. As he got closer he could see Tarius and Harris fighting with Jena sitting to the side watching them. From the looks of the well-beaten dirt they played here hard and often. There was no doubt that the crippled boy no one had wanted had turned into a fine swordsman. His daughter seemed totally wrapped up in what Harris and Tarius were doing. She was happy, and thank the gods she had found someone who not only accepted the fact that she wasn't cultured but actually appreciated it.
Then something happened that literally made him weak in the knees. Jena took up a blade and started to fight with her intended. What was more, from the way she fought it was obvious that this wasn't the first time she'd had a blade in her hand. He watched with feelings of both dread and pride.
