by Selina Rosen
"If it's so wonderful, why did you ever leave?"
"The first time to find my father," Tarius said. "My throat had been cut by the Amalites when my mother was killed. Thinking that he had lost us both, he took off for Jethrik to help your people fight the Amalites. A young woman named Elise who had lost her children and her mate found me in a stack of bodies they were preparing to burn. I couldn't talk because I was very weak, and there were so many bodies on top of me that I could barely move. I had no way to let anyone know I was still alive except that I could move my hand. The burial squad thought the woman had gone mad with grief when she pulled me from the stack saying I was still alive. But when they saw that my main vein hadn't been cut and that I was still breathing, they sewed me up as best they could. The young woman claimed me as her own, vowing that she would one day take me to my father. She then hauled me half way across the island to the Springs of Montero. The springs have magical healing properties for my people, and they healed my wounds. I was even able to speak clearly." Although it changed the way I spoke forever. Making it easier for me to pass myself off as a man.
"When I was old enough to make such a trip, Elise took me across the sea to look for my father, for word of his greatness here had traveled even to Kartik. When we found him . . . " She stopped, smiling at the memory. "Ah! It was like we had never been parted. He realized Elise's attachment to me, and so he invited her to stay with us. We all lived together for years, traveling back and forth across the sea. My father trained me every day, whether at land or on sea, in the Kartik or in the Jethrik. When battle called him away, Elise continued my training. Every day, day in and day out, from the time I was old enough to hold a sword.
When I was twenty, my father helped me to make my sword. Every day we heated and pounded the metal. Every day for two months, pounding and folding the metal, then grinding and sharpening it till it was perfect. Then I took it and cut my finger off with it."
Harris made a face, and Tarius laughed.
"The blade was so sharp that I hardly felt it till they put the hot metal to it," Tarius laughed again at the almost sick look that came over Harris's face. "When the handle was complete and the sword was whole, it was like nothing I had ever held before. I felt invincible. I felt I couldn't possibly lose. That no one could ever cause me to feel the pain I had felt when they had killed my pac . . . village, and my mother.
"I lived with this delusion for two years. I hated it when we would stay here, but my father insisted that we must hold the Amalites back. He told me that this war we fight now was coming. I wish now that we had never come here; that we had stayed always in the Kartik. I believe that being here at the time we were changed both of our fates forever and changed what was simple into something too complicated for words.
"One night I was hunting in the woods. I couldn't hear or see anything at the home site, because I was miles from home. Yet I knew something was wrong." The events started to run through her head as she spoke. "I was young and stupid. I thought that I could protect the people I loved. It never dawned on me that my father, who was three times the swordsman I was, hadn't been able to. I ran through the woods so fast . . . I covered so much ground so quickly . . . I have no idea how I did it even now. I knew I had been a damn fool. Somehow I knew the worst was happening. I came into the clearing and the house was in flames. I arrived just in time to see a sword go through Elise's midsection. I saw her sword drop from her hand and land on a body below her. A body I knew instinctively belonged to my father. There was a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest. I guess I went berserk. I ran in hacking and slashing with no rhyme or reason to any move I made, and when I was done there were six dead Amalites. It didn't make me feel any better about my father or Elise. Hatred devoured me, and everything I did after that I did because of that burning hatred. Nothing mattered to me, nothing but killing the Amalites. Nothing, do you understand me, Harris? Nothing!"
There was such passion in Tarius's eyes that Harris dared not ignore him. "I think so." I understand that we never really changed the subject of the conversation. I understand that this is why you don't feel bad about shooting the Amalites in the back or anywhere else, and I understand that from now on I will obey you without question.
"Nothing at all mattered to me. My hatred made me blind to all the things I was doing. Because it just didn't matter what I did as long as it meant that I got to kill these bastards. Until I met Jena. Until Jena fell in love with me, and I felt once again the love of one who was connected to my soul. By then it was too late to change all that I had done. To undo it. I had to keep it all up. I had to."
Now Tarius had lost him. "What are you talking about, Tarius?" Harris asked in confusion.
Tarius looked as if he'd been caught napping on guard duty. "I . . . I have to . . ." She jumped quickly into her saddle. "I have to find Arvon." She rode off at a quick gallop.
Harris watched Tarius go. Finally he laughed, shook his head, and went off in search of his own horse. Being on horseback certainly gave him an edge in most battles, but there were times when you couldn't get to the actual fighting if you were on one unless you trampled your own men. He was going to try to train his horse the way Tarius had trained his.
* * *
Tarius hadn't found Arvon yet when she was summoned before the king. She rode up to the king's carriage and dismounted. The herald pointed her in the direction of the carriage, and she walked towards it. The door was opened for her, and she stepped inside. The king sat inside while his personal surgeon, Robert, cleaned a cut on the king's hand. Tarius looked at it and saw that it wasn't a sword blow but an armor cut. No doubt where the king's gauntlet had cut into him.
"Sit," Persius ordered, pointing at the seat across from him. "Tell me, for I believe wholly in your counsel concerning war, and all things pertaining to combat. You were in their camp. Is it really so bad that we must . . . kill men from behind?"
"If you insist on playing by gentleman's rules, we shall not win. Every one of us will die in the valley below. They easily out number us ten men to our every one. I was wrong to separate our forces . . ."
"No, you were right." Persius handed Tarius a piece of paper. "The herald delivered this into my hands only a few moments ago. They were getting reinforcements, and our units along their supply routes have stopped many shipments of food and medical supplies as well as hundreds of soldiers. They have done this easily and with few casualties. Meanwhile, the fifth division will be here in only two more days."
"That may not be soon enough." Tarius looked thoughtful for a few minutes and then nodded as if making up her mind. "Send one man to each of the surrounding villages that are less than a half day's ride away. Let him gather every able-bodied man with any weapon and a horse and bring him to the front. It will leave the villages unprotected, but I think all the Amalites are there below us anyway. It may give us enough men to push on till the fifth division gets here."
Persius wrote down what Tarius had said and then called for the herald, who appeared in the doorway. Persius handed the note to the herald. "See that these orders are carried out immediately."
Robert had been having a hell of a time trying to doctor the king's hand while he was moving all around talking to the Kartik bullyboy. Now the king pulled his hand away altogether. "That's good enough. Take care of Tarius's face. We don't want him to be so ugly that even his wife won't love him."
Tarius sat still as Robert roughly washed the dried blood from the wound and Tarius's face. No doubt dirt and dust had stopped the bleeding, and as the doctor cleaned it, it began to bleed again. It was a bad cut which ran from the corner of the right eye to almost the middle of the chin.
"Take this," Robert said offering some powders.
Tarius held her mouth shut tight and shook her head no. She remembered what his powders had done to her before. Knew that she couldn't become the Katabull if he gave them to her, and they were going to need the Katabull tonight whether they knew it or not.
&
nbsp; "Take them, don't be a fool. I have to put stitches in that," Robert said.
"I can take a stitch without wincing," Tarius assured him.
Robert looked at Persius, and the king shrugged. The surgeon threaded his needle and started to stitch the wound. Tarius was as good as her word; she didn't move a muscle even though it felt like he was trying to tear her face off.
"That's a bad cut," Persius said conversationally. "He damn near had you."
Tarius was silent for obvious reasons, and Persius went on. "I called a cease fire on my line when they started to retreat. It goes against the Jethrik code of honor to shoot or stab a man in the back. You know that. Yet it didn't keep you from ordering the men to continue lobbing arrows into their backs. It didn't keep you from going after them. Because you understand the code in a way that none of the rest of us truly do. Because first and foremost, as a Swordmaster you must defend the kingdom, and as king, I must protect the people. As you said, we can't do that if we are dead. We know as you do what the Amalites are capable of, and that they badly out number us. We know that we have been losing this war, and that we were losing earlier this day. Yet it was only you who remembered even under the pressure of battle what we are really fighting for. Not honor or glory, we fight for our lives and the lives of our people. How odd it is that you, a sword-wielding, out-country warlord should be teaching me how to be a better king!"
Robert had finished the stitching, and Tarius rejected his attempts to dress the wound. Anything sticking out would get in her line of sight. The swelling was bad enough. She looked at Persius, and smiled as if she'd heard none of his praise. "So, am I too ugly for Jena?" she asked.
Persius smiled back. "You always were, you ugly Kartik bastard . . . Why don't you go and get some rest?"
Tarius nodded and got up. She opened the door and stepped out of the carriage.
"Tarius!" Persius called after her. She turned to face him. "Be more careful; I need you."
"Thank you, Sire." She bowed to him and then walked off.
"Well, I'll be damned," Persius said in disbelief.
"What's that, Sire?" Robert asked.
"Nothing," Persius said. "Go on now. Attend to the real wounded. Make sure my best men get worked on first, then anyone who will be able to fight tomorrow. Anyone too badly wounded to fight tomorrow gets shipped back to the villages for treatment."
Persius watched the surgeon go, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to rest. Tarius had never bowed to him before. "So, Tarius the Black finally respects me! And what did I do to deserve that respect?" Persius frowned. "I sanctioned stabbing men in the back." He rubbed his hands down his face. The world had gone mad. In war nothing was wrong but losing. No blacks and whites, only areas of gray. Whatever it took, whatever worked.
* * *
Robert walked towards the makeshift surgery. Just a big tent, really. The wounded were stacked up all around the outside of it. The medics were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, doing little but making the wounded more nervous than they already were. Robert waded in and got right to work. He tried to direct the medics, but they were all soldiers, and they didn't respect or listen to him because he wasn't.
It was ironic really. Not long ago he had been complaining about never seeing any serious injuries, and right now he'd give all he had to be able to treat a simple kitchen burn. The working conditions were impossible, and he needed help. Suddenly Tarius appeared by his side. Robert fully expected him to shout some orders at him, but instead he started to help him with the patient he was working on.
"This is a mess up in here," Tarius said, handing the surgeon some gauze. "You need more help, and the severely wounded need to be field dressed and shipped out."
Robert nodded and snapped. "I know that, but none of you military types will listen to a word I say."
"Oh, yes, they will." Tarius stood up. "Listen up!" Tarius screamed. He got almost instant silence. "We have lots of wounded here, and the men are still retrieving them from below. I need twenty more men to work as medics over here. I need wagons to haul the badly wounded to the nearest village, and I expect those wagons to come back loaded with able-bodied men. This man is the king's surgeon. He is very learned, and we are lucky to have him. He will run this surgery, and until further notice all medics will report to him and take orders directly from him. Anyone who does not listen to him and follow his orders will have to answer to me. Now where the hell are my volunteers?"
Robert watched in amazement as fifty men showed up. Tarius picked twenty and sent the rest out to the battlefield to bring in any wounded they found. Robert started giving orders, and the medics listened. Trained medics each took one of the volunteers to help them set up a triage, and soon they had things under control. The badly wounded were being field dressed and sent off, and the others were having their wounds treated. Seeing that things were working well, Tarius started to leave.
"Sir Tarius!" Robert called out.
Tarius turned to face him. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
Tarius smiled and nodded. "Thank you. For treating my men, and for sewing up my face. I should have thanked you then, but . . ." Tarius moved up close to him and whispered. "Between you and me, it hurt too damn much. I almost passed out. I would have taken the powders, because they helped me before, but could you see me handling all of this with those powders in my system?"
"I suppose not." Robert watched Tarius go. Kartik bullyboy he might be, but you had to respect him all the same.
* * *
Tarius made the crossbowmen take shifts in the trees, serving as both defense and watch. After she got the camp lined out and all of their wounded had been hauled in, she went to search for Arvon. She found him, not to surprisingly giving a sword lesson to young Dustan. She smiled and shook her head.
"Arvon!" She motioned with her head, and he came over to her. "It's almost dark."
"Are we going there again? Is that safe?"
"We are, and it's not, but we've got to cut the odds," Tarius said.
"Brakston's starting to ask questions," Arvon said. "And I can't seem to shake your newly-acquired page."
"Harris tells me he thinks the boy has a 'thing' for you," Tarius said, smiling at the look that came over her friend's face.
Arvon looked over at the youth who smiled back at him, and he sighed. "My mind was so far away from that, that it never even crossed my mind. He is kind of cute, though, isn't he?"
Tarius grabbed Arvon's chin and made him look at her. "Well, keep your mind off of it right now. We have work to do. Meet me by the big oak by the creek as soon as it's nightfall."
Arvon nodded.
* * *
He found Tarius asleep under the tree. She woke when one of his feet stepped on a twig and it snapped. She flipped her legs up, arched her back forward, and was on her feet with sword in hand in a flash.
"Wow!" Arvon said holding up his hands. He smiled at her. "Tarius, you're exhausted; I'm exhausted. They're going to be waiting for us, for anyone . . ."
"That's why we're going to sneak into their camp."
"And could it hurt to have a little help to do that?" Hellibolt had appeared from apparently nowhere, and they both turned on him with swords in hand.
"You old fool," Tarius said breathing heavily. She lowered her voice to a whisper and spoke to Arvon, "He's a friend . . . almost. So, what do you mean, old man? What sort of help?"
"Take back what you said, or I shan't help you at all," Hellibolt said crossing his arms across his chest and putting his nose in the air.
Tarius went over what she had said until she found the offensive item. "You are no fool, however it is stupid to sneak up on armed warriors."
"Point taken. I was thinking something in a nice stealth spell. Help you hide and keep you from being heard or scented."
"But magic doesn't work on the Katabull," Tarius said.
Hellibolt sighed disgusted with her ignorance. "The spell isn't against yo
u. It's against them."
"Good, that would be great then," Tarius said. "Do a stealth spell."
"Little Katabull in the spring, they can do most anything. Let them go; let no one see what these two might really be," Hellibolt intoned.
Arvon made a face and looked at Tarius. She shrugged. "They're not very pretty, but they seem to work."
* * *
The Katabull sneaked into the Amalite camp where they killed men as they slept. They grabbed men from behind and slit their throats. When they had killed a great many of them, they let their presence be known, sending the Amalites into a panic. Then they ran from the camp and into the night.
They went back to where their horses were tied and grazing by the creek. They changed back to human form, and Arvon started to throw up. Tarius patted him on the back, and Arvon pulled away. He sat on a rock and put his head in his hands. He was shaking. He looked over at Tarius, who seemed unmoved by what they had just done.
"Do you feel nothing?" Arvon asked, near tears. "I know what we did will help. I know it might very well mean the difference between winning and losing, but . . . I can't help but feel as if I left a piece of my soul back there with the first sleeping man's throat I cut."
"I feel, Arvon, but not for them. Never for them. See, they made me what I am today. They did it to me years ago, and now they have made you what you are right now. If that isn't reason enough in itself to hate them, then I don't know what is." She walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Do what I have done for years. Don't think about it; put it out of your mind, because to face it too fully is to go mad."
"How can I put something like that out of my mind? I snuck into their tents and cut their throats. They didn't have a chance," Arvon said. Now his tears did fall. "At the time I did it without thinking. It's the Katabull; it's the beast within. It doesn't care what it does; it is without conscience."
