Sword Masters

by Selina Rosen

  You would have thought he had given her gold. She held the folded hunk of parchment in her hand just looking at where Tarius had written her name. She would recognize his handwriting anywhere. Tears came to her eyes, and she just couldn't bring herself to open it. She was glad to have the letter, but at the same time it reminded her that he wasn't here.

  Tragon didn't know what possessed him, maybe it was the fact that Tarius had just saved his life, or maybe it was just the medicine kicking in. "You know how I feel about you, Jena, it's never been a secret. How I envy Tarius because he has you, how I envy his skill and his bravery. I'd like very much to hate the lucky bastard, but now he has gone and saved me. He threw himself between the enemy and me and then stood over my wounded body protecting me. He and Harris stood by me throughout the battle shielding me from harm. For this reason, I have to tell you something I would rather not. I have to tell you how much he loves you and how he talks about you and misses you constantly. You know how hard it is for him to write, and at the time he was busy with the business of after-battle clean up and setting camp. Yet he sat there knowing that I would be coming back here and wrote you that letter."

  "Thanks, Tragon," Jena said through choked-back tears, then turned and ran from the building.

  * * *

  She ran all the way to the clearing where Tarius had taught her to fight, where he had first made love to her. It was here that she felt closest to him. She sat for a minute just letting herself cry, and then she wiped her tears away and opened the letter carefully. There were three pages, but considering how big Tarius wrote, it wasn't as wordy as some might have thought.

  Dear Jena,

  First I must tell you how much I miss you. I have dreamt of doing battle against the Amalites my whole life. It is all I have worked for. All I ever cared about.

  Now because of you, I only want to be home.

  Gudgin died today with a spear in his chest. We hadn't gotten along when I was at academy, but on the battlefield we had grown to like and respect each other. He was a good man, my dear friend, and he will be sorely missed.

  Tragon, as you now know by now, was badly injured in the battle. Many died; it was our highest death count yet. We lost eighty-five men as of the last count.

  Harris is my best man and my trusted companion. I have also inherited Gudgin's page, Dustan, who seems a good lad.

  I grow weary of sleeping with men, and I'm sure they grow wearier of having to peel me off of them by morning. It seems I grew too accustomed to sleeping with you too fast.

  If all goes well, the war should be over soon. When it is, I want to go back to Kartik. I hope you will consider the move. I think it would be best for us.

  All my love and devotion,

  Tarius

  Jena read the letter over and over again. She laughed at the thought of Tarius curled around poor Tragon or Harris. She wept over the death of Gudgin and all the others and for the pain Tarius must feel at their loss. She wished she could be there beside him to comfort him.

  "They call him Tarius the Black you know."

  Jena started at her father's voice and dried her eyes. "Father! I . . ."

  "Oh, yes, I know all about this place, and I know about that heathen husband of yours teaching you to use a sword." Darian laughed at the startled look on his daughter's face.

  "Why didn't you say anything?" Jena asked.

  Darian shrugged and sat next to her on the log. "What good would it have done? Admittedly, daughter, I have to say that when I first saw you out here with your husband and young Harris I was appalled and wanted to strangle the lot of you. But as I watched you fight—when I saw that you were very good—well, I couldn't help but feel proud. In fact," he looked around, " . . . if you'd like, I could teach you a few tricks of my own."

  "Oh, Father!" Jena hugged his neck. "I would love that . . . Did Tragon tell you any more about Tarius?"

  "He is now the king's chief warlord. Seems Persius does not make a move without first asking Tarius. They call him 'the black' because he has gone back to wearing his old leather armor and has let his hair grow till it is almost to his shoulders. Before battle he paints his face with charcoal. Tragon says he is a fearsome sight."

  "Please tell me," Jena held up the parchment. " . . . that the blood is not his."

  "It isn't," Darian said. "It might have been nice if the barbarian washed his hands before he wrote to you, though."

  "I don't care about the blood, Father, as long as it isn't his."

  They talked for a long time about the war and the letter and what Tragon had said. But Jena didn't tell her father of Tarius's desire to leave the kingdom and move to the Kartik.

  "I only hope that my letter gets to him," Jena said as she let her father help her to her feet. They started back to the house.

  "Oh, it will. You couldn't have had a better messenger," Darian said.

  * * *

  The camp had to be laid out in perfect order and with careful preparation for the big battle ahead. The first aid tents had to be close enough to the camp to be accessible to the battlefield, but not so close that they would be hard to defend. Same with the cooks' wagons. Tarius made up maps of where she wanted things and handed them out to the warlords under her. There had to be enough room to accommodate the other units as they came in.

  At first, as always, there was chaos, and then everyone seemed to realize their task and everything came together almost without a hitch.

  Tarius had ridden out to the edge of the woods to look down at the valley below. The place was filthy with Amalites. They had been building up their presence here for weeks. Luckily the Jethrik army had also been building up their forces. They had already sent for the units following behind them and told them to come on in. In just five days' time they could be as large as the army they faced, and it would be no problem at all.

  That is it would be no problem if the Amalite army chose not to ride against them for five days time. Which she truly doubted.

  The Amalites hadn't counted on getting caught. They had been building their forces here in what they thought was secret in order to launch a full-scale assault against the Jethrik countryside and push on to the capital. Nothing brought down the morale of an opposing army quite like having a massive fighting force charge across the land killing every living thing, scorching the earth black with fire, and then destroying their seat of power.

  Now they had been caught, and there was no way they could be ignorant of the fact that the Jethrik forces were there. They also had to suspect that at the moment they outnumbered the Jethrik forces.

  The real trick was to not let any of them get close enough to scout out the camp. To keep them in the dark about strengths and weaknesses. That's what Tarius was doing now. Riding the boundaries in case she might see something that the sentries didn't.

  She had no idea how intimidating she was. She had patched her armor over and over, but still managed to keep it dyed jet black and the studs brightly polished. She wore metal-banded leather vambraces and metal elbow cops. Three-limbed pauldrons lay on her shoulders. She only wore her helmet when she knew there would be battle. Right now her black hair flowed out behind her. On either side of her head she wore tight braids that kept the hair out of her face. She cut her bangs, but that was all.

  "You really are a stunning bitch," a familiar voice said.

  "Arvon!" Tarius jumped from her horse and ran to greet him. She gave him a hearty hug, and he hugged her back. "Am I glad to see you!"

  "I also am glad to see you. Although I'm not at all happy to see that," he said pointing down at the valley.

  "I have sent orders for our other four units to come in. If we can keep them from over running us till all our forces arrive, we should be able to win this war and go home. Speaking of which, do you bring any news of my lady wife?"

  "I happen to have a letter the dear lass wrote you right here in my pocket." He pulled out the letter and handed it to Tarius.

  Tarius took it with t
rembling fingers, and a lump in her throat.

  "You should tell her, Tarius. Her love for you is strong. I'm sure it would be a shock to her at first, but I think she would understand. I think she would love you anyway, given time to adjust."

  "You don't know that," Tarius said. "What if Tragon is telling her even now?"

  "Tragon is here . . . Isn't he?"

  "No. He was wounded and he had to go home. You no doubt passed him on your way." Tarius seemed miserable. "I know how he feels about her. I'm not sure his loyalty to me will prevent him doing anything in his power to have her." She looked at the letter in her hands. "Whatever she has written here, it might have all changed by now."

  "Don't think like that, Tarius. Read your letter and be happy to hear from her," Arvon said punching her in the shoulder.

  Tarius nodded and she read the letter.

  My Dear Husband,

  I long for your touch. I only hope that the war will end soon that we will be victorious and that you will return to my side once again.

  I hear that things on the front are horrible. They tell me that you ride out ahead of everyone else, charging head first into battle. Please don't do anything stupid. You don't have to prove anything to me or anyone else. Be more careful . . .

  The rest of the four pages were filled with flowery tributes of her love for Tarius. Some of it made Tarius blush, and much of it called for body parts Tarius simply did not have. When she had read it, she folded it carefully and tucked it into the top of her pants.

  "Well?" Arvon asked. He really hadn't read the letter, which had been pure hell for him, and he very much wanted to hear what Jena had written. Vicarious romance maybe, but Arvon wanted to know anyway.

  Tarius looked solemnly over the valley filled with Amalites.

  "She wants a man, Arvon. She wants me to take her like a rutting pig . . ."

  "You don't know that, Tarius."

  Tarius pulled the folded parchment from her pants, unfolded and leafed through the pages. "I long to feel your warm swollen form inside me," Tarius read in disgust, and once again folded the letter and put it away. "She wants me to be something that I can't be. She needs me to be something I can't be. What the hell have I done? I'm playing a game I can not win." She turned to face him then. "When I get home . . . How long can I hold her off?"

  "Tell her, Tarius. Tell her and have it over with one way or the other. I think you're wrong about her. I look at you now, and I wonder how you have fooled anyone at all. To me, you are so obviously female. You are beautiful, and no normal man-loving woman would fall for you, my friend, because you simply don't look enough like a man."

  "You thought me a man."

  "Aye, but I thought you were a gay man and a fem at that," Arvon countered. "Jena could have had any man she wanted, so you have to ask why she pursued a woman instead."

  "What are you saying?" Tarius asked.

  "I'm saying that I think you and Jena are the same kind of women. She's just too ignorant to know it. She's young, and she's found a man who gives her what she needs. It's not so much that she wants a swollen cock inside her as it is that she wants to please you. You can't look at me and say that isn't exactly what you would like as well. Tell her. Yes, she'll be hurt at first. Of course she'll be confused. Eventually I believe she will come around, and then you can teach her to be the kind of lover you deserve."

  Tarius laughed without humor. "I wish you were right, but you just don't understand. I only look like a woman to you now because you know that I am. Jena married a man; she wants a man."

  "No. She thinks she wants a man. Any man would force her to be something that she isn't," Arvon said.

  "Especially Tragon. He doesn't really love her at all. He lusts for her because she's beautiful. He wants her for a wife because she comes from a respected family. Mostly he wants her because she belongs to me," Tarius said. She was thoughtful for a moment. "When the war is over—if I can get her to Kartik. Then maybe there is a chance. If I can get her away from here, away from your strange rules . . ."

  "You mean if you can move her away from her support base, across an ocean, so that she has no choice but to stay with you?" Arvon asked. "Do you really want to keep her under those terms?"

  Tarius looked disturbed. She ran both her hands through her hair. "You said yourself that she loves me. You said Jena was like me. That she would still love me . . ."

  "Yes I did, and I truly believe that she would. What you're talking about, though, is taking her choices away. Taking her to a place where she has no choice but to stay with you," Arvon said.

  Tarius started to pace, throwing her hands around in huge circles as she talked and to Arvon's eyes looking more like a woman by the minute. "Maybe I don't care how I win as long as I win. The Nameless One knows that I have been accused of that enough lately." She motioned to the huge camp below her. "Do you think any of this matters to me now? It should, but it doesn't. All I care about is keeping Jena. Having Jena with me always. All I desire in this world is for her to love me for who I am. To be with her in every way. If I will break the unwritten rules to kill many men, why wouldn't I do the same to keep the only woman I have ever and will ever love? What? I shouldn't take her away and then reveal myself and make her stay with me because it's wrong? Everything I have done concerning her is wrong because I can't think straight when it comes to Jena. She restored my soul, Arvon, I can't live without her, I can't breathe without her love."

  She stopped and turned away from him looking over the valley again. Arvon walked up behind her and put a hand on each of her shoulders. "I didn't mean to upset you, Tarius. I only want to help. I think you sell your lady short. Tell her the truth, tell her here, in Jethrik. If you spirit her away and try to force her to love you, you may make her hate you instead."

  Tarius nodded silently. She tried to shake all thoughts of Jena from her head. The enemy lay before them. The Amalites outnumbered them ten to one. If the Amalites attacked tomorrow they would no doubt over-run them. They needed to hold the Amalites at bay for as long as possible, and there was only one way to do that.

  She didn't have time to think about Jena or any of her personal problems. She had a war to fight.

  "Arvon . . . I need you to do a favor for me."

  * * *

  They had tethered the horses, and Arvon had crawled through the brush along side Tarius.

  "This is insane," Arvon said. "There are too many of them."

  "I don't plan to plant a Jethrik flag in their midst. I simply go in, awaken all their Katabull fears, kill a few dozen of them and get out," Tarius said.

  "I can do my eyes," Arvon started concentrating. After a few minutes the change occurred. "I can see better and my senses are more alert . . ."

  "Don't be insane. No offense, but if I wasn't a fully formed Katabull I wouldn't even think of wading into that mess."

  "You shouldn't anyway. They're waiting for you this time. All the guards are armed, not with swords but with spears," Arvon said. With the change he could now see as if it were daytime. "That's what I could do." Without another word Arvon crawled back to his horse. He reappeared several minutes later with his crossbow and a quiver of bolts. "I'll take out the guards outside the camp from a distance, clear a trail for you. Then you go in and do your worst. When you run out I cover your back, and we get out of here."

  It was a good plan, and Tarius nodded. They crept slowly forward until the spearmen were in range. Then Arvon started firing, dropping one with each bolt he let fly. Tarius ran into the camp slashing, trashing and burning everything she came into contact with. She left a wide path of destruction through the Amalite camp, then she ran out under Arvon's covering fire. Together they ran back to their horses, mounted and rode away fast. When they were sure they hadn't been followed they slowed down. Then they looked at each other and laughed.

  "I've . . . You know I've never really used it before," Arvon said conversationally. "I figured if I couldn't do a total transformation, why even bot
her? But I have to tell you there is an absolute plus to being able to see in the dark when your opponent can't. I was just picking them off and they had no idea where I was. They never even got close."

  "Arvon . . . You mean . . . You never tried to change? You weren't trained?" Tarius said in shock.

  "You can either change or you can't," Arvon said not understanding Tarius's questions.

  "Who told you that?" Tarius asked.

  "My father. My mother died before my tenth birthday while trying to have my brother."

  "Arvon, don't you understand? It's like walking; you have to learn to do it. You have to learn to change. Your mother died before you were of changing age. Arvon . . . If you learned to change your eyes on your own, chances are you can shape-shift."

  * * *

  She led him to a stream far away from either camp. They both stripped naked and soaked in the stream's cold water.

  "Why do we have to be naked?" Arvon asked in a whisper.

  "Clothes might bind you in your changing. You bulk out as you change. It's why I wear my armor looser, why I loosen the bindings on my chest before I shift," Tarius said, she made a face. "When I remember."

  "OK. Now my second question. Why are we sitting in ice cold water?" Arvon asked.

  "Because I needed a bath," Tarius said with a smile that shone through the night.

  Arvon laughed and shook his head. "All right, what do I do?"

  "Close your eyes and remember learning to walk . . ."

  "I don't remember that."

  "Well, pretend like you do," Tarius said in an agitated voice. "When you are learning to walk, you put a foot forward, hold it in the air a moment, then you lean into it, you fall forward and catch yourself. One step. It's the same. Picture in your mind your features. Reach into yourself and find a wild thing that wants free. Pick it up gently . . ."

  "With what?" Arvon asked, opening one eye just a slit.

  "In your mind. Gods! You're hopeless . . . . Pick the wild thing up, hold it and caress it. Can you feel it?"