by Selina Rosen
"Be careful now, Jena. That's a real blade," Tarius warned with a laugh.
Jena nodded, slowing down and watching carefully as the blade sliced the air.
"It's beautiful, Tarius! Thank you. Thank you so much."
Tarius just nodded, smiling. "It's a Kartik bastard sword. Don't ask me how a filthy Amalite got his hands on it. Makes me mad just to think of it. He didn't get to keep it, though. It was a woman's sword I'm guessing by the weight of it. I'm sure she'd be happy to know that her blade is out of the hands of the Amalites and in your hands."
"It seems to fit my hands. Almost like it was made for me," Jena said.
"You should have been with us," Tarius said. "You're as good as any man, better than most. Of course I have to admit that as much as I would have liked to have you with me, I would have been distracted with you on the field."
Jena stopped twirling the blade, resting it on her shoulder. She looked lustfully at Tarius, and the color rose in Tarius's cheeks. Jena carefully licked her lips, then laughed at the look on Tarius's face. "Find me a distraction, do you?"
"You'd be disappointed if I didn't. Besides, that's not what I meant. I meant I would be worried about you. I would have spent more time trying to make sure you didn't get hurt than I did fighting the Amalites," Tarius said swallowing hard.
"You don't think I could hold my own?" Jena asked with a wicked smile.
"That's not it. I just . . . I wouldn't want to live in a world without you in it, Jena. I never thought I could feel like this about anyone . . ."
Tarius looked Jena up and down. She was everything she had ever dreamed of. She wanted to be with Jena now more than ever before. Really be with her. Jena loved her, and she deserved to know the truth. She deserved to be able to make a choice. "I have something to tell you, and you had better sit back down."
The smile left Jena's face as she saw how serious Tarius was. "What's wrong?" she asked, sitting beside Tarius. She put the sword down and took Tarius's hand.
"Jena . . . Would you love me no matter what?" Tarius asked.
The color left Jena's face, and she slowly but carefully took her hand from Tarius's. "I realize you were gone a long time," Jena swallowed hard. "I realize a man has needs, but maybe if you had let me take care of them before you left . . ."
"Wow!" Tarius said waving her hands in the air. "I wasn't with another woman. I wouldn't do that to you. I love you, and only you. I don't have any desire left over for anyone else."
The color returned to Jena's face and she took Tarius's hand. She looked into Tarius's eyes. "I would love you no matter what you did, even if you had done that. I would have been furious. I would have tried to find some way to make you pay," she added with a wicked smile. "But I could never stop loving you. You're my husband. You're my man."
Tarius's confession died on her lips. She doesn't love me. She loves the man that she thinks that I am. If I want to keep her, I will just have to go on being that man, and hope that I can keep her fooled till I can get her out of this gods-forsaken country.
Jena squeezed Tarius's hand tighter. "You could tell me anything. You have to know that."
Tarius took a deep breath, and thought of yet another lie. "I was hurt in the war . . . My . . . Well . . . My thing doesn't work right now. I don't know when it will, or even if . . . " Tarius's heart broke at the look of disappointment Jena wasn't able to hide with her quick smile.
"Well, then I'll just have to find other ways to please you," she said and her smile broadened. "But first, you need a bath."
* * *
Tarius locked the door to the bathroom and then put a chair in front of it. She didn't usually bathe in the house. She went to a spot in the creek far away from observers and bathed there even in the coldest weather. She had even broken ice off the stream to get a bath. It was no way to live. Especially since the Jethriks had found the wonder of running water. They would go up stream and damn an area off, then use bamboo—no doubt imported from the Kartik as there was no bamboo in the Jethrik—with the petitions knocked out to pipe the water to their dwellings. Some of the water was directed into huge vats where fires were built under them and the water was heated for bathing. It was a wonderful luxury, and one Tarius could have thoroughly enjoyed if she wasn't scared to death of being caught.
Everything was such a mess! She had told so many lies she didn't know what the truth was any more. When she had asked for five yards of clean muslin, no one had even batted their eyes. Apparently they all knew of her "Kartik" practice of wrapping her chest for protection of body and spirit.
"What a crock!" Tarius said. "Now I'm telling her I was hurt in the war . . . Damnedest accident, honey, turned me right into a woman!" Tarius mumbled. She walked to the mirror and stood, appalled at her own reflection. "What the hell has happened to me?" She ran her finger down the new scar on her face. It was the first time she had seen it. There were other new scars all over her body. Most were small and would probably heal completely in time. Others, like the one on her face, would be there the rest of her life. She took another look. She had soot all over her face, and her hair was a ratted, tangled mess. She smiled, this was the way she saw herself, fearsome and battle ready. However if the hair was clean and combed, it was going to make her look too feminine, so it was going to have to go. She found some scissors and looked at her hair one last time. Except for the filth and mats it was just the way she liked it. Oh well, if she was going to keep up the act, she had to look the part.
She cut her hair short, and she didn't do a bad job.
Then she started stripping her armor off. She was dreading this part. She had only had it off all the way to the skin three times in the last few months. She was afraid of what she might find and for the moment glad that Jena wouldn't be seeing her without any clothes on. Because of course the Kartik people are such a modest people. So much so that they won't even undress in front of their own spouse. Another big lie, and she'll know it if I can ever get her to Kartik. Of course, if I can get her to Kartik I will unmask all the lies. She'll be too far away to get home without my help, and I won't help her get home. I'll make her understand. I'll make her want me as much as I want her . . . If I can't, only then will I bring her home again.
Her upper armor and pauldrons were no trouble, and she hadn't really expected them to be. Even the leather pants, which at least got pulled down and then up again when she had to relieve herself, weren't too bad. But her gambeson was soaked through with sweat and blood and never washed except when she was in it. It never came off; she even slept in it. Just as she slept in the wrappings. On the field there had been no time or place to remove either in privacy. No doubt the gambeson and wrappings were the bigger part of the great stench that they were talking about, and now that she was inside she could smell it, too.
She thought she knew more or less what to expect, so she pulled it off slowly. Sure enough, several layers of dead skin came with it. It smelled like death itself, and even she had trouble holding her stomach. She put it into the burlap sack she had them bring for just that purpose. Her skin looked raw, white and exposed. It would feel good to get a real bath. Good to wear normal clothes for a while. She started to unwrap the cloth that held her breasts flat against her chest. More flesh peeled away with the cloth, and the smell was if anything worse than her gambeson. She put the rags into the bag as well, then she looked at herself again in the mirror. The wrappings had left lines in her body, some of which looked deep enough to be permanent, and her breasts didn't immediately resume their true shape.
It was funny, when she had first started binding them, it had hurt. The discomfort had been almost unbearable. Now it almost hurt to have them unbound and in the open air. Her breasts, like the breasts of most Kartik women, were not very large. If they had been, she never could have pulled this off.
Her underwear was smelly, torn and threadbare. She threw them in the bag, too. The bag and its contents would be burned. She'd make a new gambeson, maybe Jena would ev
en make it for her. Maybe they could work on it together—that would be nice.
They had warmed the bath water, and when Tarius stepped into the warm water and sank down in the bath up to her neck she sighed. After a few moments, she attacked the filth of her with luffa sponge and lye soap. Layers of dead skin were scraped off, leaving exposed delicate, new skin and more than a few scars. When she got out of the water, it was filthy. She drained it, ran cold water into the bath and got in again just to rinse the other off.
She was toweling herself dry when a knock came on the door and she jumped, automatically wrapping the towel around herself.
"Yes?" she said carefully.
"Are you all right, Tarius?" Jena's voice asked.
"Yes fine. Just very, very dirty," Tarius said. "I'm just now drying off. I'll be out in a minute."
She finished drying herself and dressed in the Swordmaster's uniform Jena had left out for her. They were her clothes, but she noticed that the uniform was loose in some places and tight in others. The war had changed her body configuration. She pulled on clean new boots and sighed. She had forgotten how good it felt to be clean.
She walked out of the bathroom door, and Jena was waiting for her. She smiled brightly at Tarius and then hugged her neck, kissing her gently on the lips. "Dinner's ready."
"Ah! Food. Food that doesn't have bugs in it. Should be quite a treat." She held Jena tighter. "Of course, I can think of something I'd like better." She bent down and whispered something particularly wicked in Jena's ear, and Jena shook with desire.
"Oh! Now that sounds much better than anything I can think of. However, I believe my father would be a little disappointed if we were that late for dinner." Jena laughed and she pushed away from Tarius a little, although Tarius didn't loosen her grip. Jena seemed to be thinking, and then she frowned. "You know . . . I think I liked all the hair."
Tarius laughed. "Now isn't that ironic? I cut it off for you."
* * *
Tarius hadn't realized what a state of shock she was in until she was seated at the opposite end of her father-in-law's table. Sitting at a table about to be served a meal of several courses. Jena sat to the right of her, and Harris to the left. Tragon sat next to Harris, and Edmond sat next to him. Justin and his wife sat beside Jena.
It was to be a full-fledged feast. She motioned to Harris with a finger, and he bent to hear her whispered words.
"I know all you have thought of is eating, but heed my advice. We have been on warrior's harsh rations for months. Bad food and not enough of it. Don't eat too much of anything, or you'll get sicker than you have ever been," Tarius warned.
Harris nodded and frowned. "You just have to suck the fun out of everything, don't you, Tarius?"
"We were beginning to think we were going to be eating cold food, son-in-law," Darian said.
"I was very dirty," Tarius said. "Had to fill the tub twice."
Harris laughed. "Me, too, and my skin came off with my gambeson in layers. Smelt like dead bodies . . ."
"Harris! For the gods' sake," Tragon said making a face. "We are preparing to eat dinner."
Harris's spirits could not be dampened by the likes of Tragon. He just smiled and shrugged. "I guess we were at battle too long. It might take us awhile to get used to polite life again. Aye, Tarius?"
"Aye," Tarius said simply. Jena grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed. Tarius squeezed back, and they looked at each other and exchanged a smile.
* * *
Tragon was sickened by the obvious love these two exchanged in a glance. But you don't know what I know, Jena. You don't know that you're great love is a dark demon hidden in human form. That your man is no man at all, but a woman just like yourself. You can't wait for Tarius to take you to bed and give you what you crave, but Tarius can't give it to you. You jilted me and your own frustration shall be your reward.
Despite the warning, Harris ate too much and got sick just as his mentor had promised. They sent for the academy surgeon, who mixed some powders that were supposed to help, and they all retired to the drawing room. Tarius sat down in one of the over-stuffed chairs and delighted in the softness of it.
Jena sat on the floor at Tarius's feet, leaning against Tarius's legs. She kicked her shoes off and pretended not to notice her father's look of disapproval. The servant started to serve drinks, and Tarius waved him away.
"Tarius, have a little of the mint liqueur. It's really very good," Darian said.
"I don't drink alcohol," Tarius said plainly.
"As I live and breathe! I didn't know that," Darian said. "Why not?"
"To be quite frank, I become a raving beast when I drink. Impossible, quarrelsome and wanting to shed blood," Tarius said. "I fear I might do something I would later regret."
"Always a sensible man," Darian said.
"How is your leg, my brother?" Tarius asked Tragon, wanting to change the subject.
"It's better, though it still hurts and it doesn't work very well. I see you've picked up yet another scar, my brother," Tragon said a bit of sting in his words.
"I'm afraid it is one of many," Tarius said with a shrug.
"That's what happens when you stay for the whole war, Tragon," Harris said harshly. "But of course you wouldn't know about that."
Jena looked at Harris and smiled broadly. She was glad Harris had said it and not her. She didn't want Tarius to find out how she felt about Tragon.
"It's a good thing Tragon was here," Justin said, "or we would have had no instructors at all. As it was, we put many Swordmasters in the field who would not have made the cut in peace time."
Edmond nodded his head in agreement. "I barely had time to teach them the stripped-down basics."
"Enough of this. I have held my tongue as long as I can!" Darian rubbed his hands together. "Tarius, Harris, tell us about the war."
"I guess that's our cue, dear," Justin's wife said looking at Jena.
"I'll stay," Jena said.
Justin's wife made a face. "It's not seemingly for a young lady . . ."
Tarius glared up at the woman. "It's seemly for my wife, madam. If I can go and fight in the war, she can at least hear about it if she so wishes. I don't tell Jena what to do, and no offense meant, but I'll be damned if anyone else will."
Justin's wife gave Tarius a heated look, but held her tongue. She looked at Jena expectantly.
Jena smiled up at her sweetly. "I'm staying."
The woman left in a huff, and the war stories were told in detail and at length. Jena was neither sickened nor frightened as she listened intently to all that Harris and Tarius had to say. She was only glad that it was over and she had her husband back. In time he would heal, and then they could be truly together.
* * *
Arvon and Dustan had found a good tavern, had as good and hearty a meal as they could stand, and drank freely of the best ale in the house.
Some of the villagers had gathered around to hear the war stories.
"Then Sir Tarius the Black comes bounding on horseback over both shield walls. He runs through the Amalite forces hacking and slashing his way through. Then as if he'd had a vision, he jumped into his saddle, riding on his feet. He leapt from the horse, did a spin in the air and grabbed the arrow just inches from the king's face. Then he lands on his feet, looks at the Amalite horde, holds the arrow high above his head and screams like a million demons are being released. Then he just ran at them on foot, hacking and slashing, cutting a trail through the Amalites four warriors wide. Our troop's spirits were lifted, and we suddenly knew no force could stand against the might of the Jethrik army and the Kartik warlord that led them."
Arvon was drunk, and he simply nodded in approval. Dustan embellished a little, but he wasn't too far from the truth, and he told a good tale. Boy should have apprenticed to a bard instead of a Swordmaster.
Suddenly Arvon didn't feel so good. Not really sick, just different and . . . Oh my god! I'm changing! I have to get out of here before the transformati
on is complete and someone sees me.
He jumped up and ran outside.
"Arvon, Arvon!" Dustan followed after him.
Outside Arvon headed for the wooded area behind the pub. If he could get to the woods, but he was drunk and was having trouble walking. The transformation seemed to make him even drunker than he would have normally been, and the liquor seemed to speed up the transformation.
"Arvon . . . Are you all right?" Dustan asked.
"Go away, boy!" Arvon snapped in a voice very different from his usual.
"Are you hurt? You don't sound right." Dustan took Arvon's arm and Arvon swung on him. Dustan let go of Arvon's arm and jumped back. "My gods! You're . . . You're."
"Yes I am," Arvon growled out. The transformation was complete, and his head was spinning. He looked around. No one else had seen him. He grabbed Dustan by the collar. "You shouldn't have followed me. Come on." He dragged Dustan into the woods, kicking but not screaming.
Dustan was in shock. He didn't know what to think or do. Only two things were clear in his mind. First, he didn't want Arvon to get into trouble, and second he didn't want to be in the hands of an angry Katabull.
When he realized he couldn't get away, he stopped squirming. Arvon ran like the wind, and it was all Dustan could do to keep up being half dragged, half carried. He tried to make his legs help him along when he could get his footing.
When they were far enough into the woods, Arvon let him go and started to pace around him in a circle, obviously thinking.
"So you were the Katabull the Amalites said visited their camp every night before a battle," Dustan said.
Still drunk, Arvon spoke without thinking. "A couple of times. Mostly it was Tarius." He stopped, raising his hands to cover his mouth. When he removed them he screeched, "Damn! Now she's going to kill me."
"She!" Dustan squealed.
