Sword Masters

by Selina Rosen

  "He deserves to die." Jena rubbed the spot on Tarius's side where the arrow had done its damage. "Nice and slow."

  "And that's precisely what he's doing," Tarius said with a satisfied smile.

  * * *

  Darian rode alone into Wolf Harbor. Most of his life he had lived a stone's throw from the port but had steered clear of it, having no desire to mingle with the riff-raff and foreigners who lived and traded in and around the docks.

  Now he came here twice a month trying to learn anything he could about Jena. Stories of Tarius and her deeds flowed like wine in the pubs, and tales of the Marching Night were commonplace. He even occasionally heard stories about Harris and Arvon, but there was little news about Tarius's woman except that she was of the Jethrik and beautiful. And that didn't, necessarily, mean that she was Jena.

  He had learned much about the Kartik on his trips here. He'd even picked up a bit of their language. Although he hadn't learned enough to carry on a conversation, he could usually get the gist of theirs.

  Darian tethered his horse at a pub he liked to frequent and went inside. It was usually a quiet pub with few customers, where he could listen to others gossip. He was a little startled when he first walked in because tonight it was packed to bulging with Kartiks. A second look told him they weren't sailors, either, although they were dressed the part. Under their brightly colored shirts and puffy pants he could make out the outlines of armor, and their swords were too finely made and too well cared for to belong to mere fishing men or the crew of a trader. They were also too well muscled in the arms and upper torso to be anything but fighters. But why so many, and why here?

  Darian carefully made his way to the bar where he ordered an ale and grabbed the bartender gently by the arm when he brought it. He leaned in close. "What's all this then?" he asked indicating the crowd in the pub.

  "Ah, don't mind them any, Master Darian. It's just a Kartik trader's crew doing a little celebrating. Their ship came up lame in the storm and they had to dump their payload. Their ship's been in dry dock a little over a week and it just came to the docks today. They'll ship out tomorrow, so they're getting in the last of their partying. Of course, between you and me, they've been in here like this most every night they've been here, and they've been spending money left and right."

  "Now that's funny, isn't it? You wouldn't expect them to be free spending considering they lost their payload. Are they taking anything back to Kartik with them?"

  "No, apparently the lost shipment and the cost of repairs has left the captain with no money to bring anything back with him to Kartik," the barkeep said.

  "Yet the sailors have money to throw away," Darian said thoughtfully.

  The bartender shrugged. "It'd be the captain's loss, not the crew's. It's a mighty fine ship. Huge. Three masts it has!"

  The bartender ran off then to take care of one of the Kartiks, and Darian saw that the man had a sword scar on his chin. He looked back at Darian, glaring at him, and Darian looked quickly away. Then one of the Kartiks came up and touched Darian's sword making some derogatory remark about the workmanship.

  His fellows apparently said something about not causing trouble, but he was too drunk to listen. He tried to pull Darian's sword from its scabbard, and Darian turned, quickly drawing steel. The young man started to draw steel as well, and immediately three of his fellows were on him, dragging him away and mumbling an apology to Darian. Darian nodded and returned his steel to its sheath; he realized he was sweating.

  Thank the gods! I haven't done anything but practice in ten years. I'll drink my beer, and I'll go. I wouldn't want to strike steel with one of these women much less the men.

  Just then a drunken Jethrik wandered into the bar.

  "What the hell is all this crap then, Amos? You only serve Kartik sea swine now?" he slurred.

  He grabbed hold of one of the young women's arms. "Out of my way, you Kartik whore!"

  The young woman threw the man into the bar, breaking a stool that happened to be in the way. The drunk just lay there groaning as the Kartik woman yelled things at him that Darian only partially understood.

  One of the older ones shouted at all the others. Darian could only make out part of what he said, but apparently he was threatening them with return to the ship if they didn't show a little restraint.

  The man sitting at the bar beside Darian turned to his fellow and whispered something that was lost to Darian in the noise of the bar, all that is except the name Tarius. All the color drained from Darian's face. Could it be? Could they be the Marching Night? If so, what could Tarius and her people want here except to storm the castle and kill Persius? And it's like Tarius to pretend to have a crippled ship; to wait for the right time to strike. But the barkeep said they were leaving in the morning.

  Of course this is all speculation. It's probably not Tarius at all, and these people are not the Marching Night. I'm a foolish old man who has let my imagination run away with me. A foolish old man who wants to see his daughter just once more before he dies.

  He paid for his ale without finishing it and left. Then he walked down to the docks just to see the ship. The barkeep hadn't lied; it was huge.

  Darian was a little taken aback. The ship was Amalite in design, but clearly had Kartik sails and flags. Then he saw her; a Jethrik woman standing on the bow of the ship looking out at the town, and he didn't have to get any closer to know it was his Jena. He ducked into some shadows and watched her until she went into the cabin.

  * * *

  It was late, and most of the crew had come in. Jena was asleep, and Tarius sat in the log room going over the charts and calculating how long it would take them to get back where they needed to be in order to get raided.

  Damn! We don't have enough supplies to stay out to do more than one ship! Besides if we're not back in port when we are supposed to be, everyone will assume we have been captured or killed.

  She sighed and leaned back in her throne rubbing her brow. The night was hot, and even with the cabin window open she was sweating. She sat at the table wearing only a pair of brightly striped puffy pants and her sword on her back.

  A sharp knock came on the door, and she jumped. She looked at the charts again before she answered.

  "What is it?" Tarius asked impatiently.

  "Great Leader . . ."

  "Rimmy, what did I tell you?" she asked hotly.

  "Sorry, Tarius," he said.

  "Don't just stand there! Come in."

  Rimmy and Tweed came in and dumped the load they carried on the ground in front of Tarius's table.

  Tarius looked up at Tweed expectantly.

  "We found this old man trying to get on the ship," Tweed said.

  "Well, lift him up here so I can see him," Tarius said.

  They lifted the man up off the floor.

  "Did he put up a fight, or were you just in the mood to kick some ass?" Tarius asked angrely.

  "He put up one hell of a fight for an old man. Took three of us to get his sword out of his hand," Rimmy said.

  Tarius nodded. "I have many enemies in the Jethrik. You have done right to capture him." She thought for a moment, and then spoke in the Jethrik tongue. "So, old man, what business do you have with me, my ship or my crew?"

  Darian looked up then right into the face of Tarius the Black. She was wilder than he remembered and harder, but there was no mistaking her. She sat there in a huge fur covered chair wearing nothing on her torso but the sword across her back. She had a gold ring in one of her nipples, one in her eyebrow, and three in her left ear. He had learned that multiple piercings were a sign of power and wealth among the Kartiks. Tarius had apparently acquired both. She was bronze and dark and hauntingly beautiful. Finally he saw the scar where the arrow had pierced her.

  "I asked you a question, old man. I believe in giving everyone a fair chance. However if you do not answer me, I shall have my men kill you, and in the morning we will dump you somewhere between here and the Kartik for fish bait. Wh
at business have you with me, my ship or my crew?"

  "I only have business with you." Darian looked into and caught Tarius's eyes. "Do you not recognize me, Tarius? I took you into my home, and I loved you like a son. I gave you my daughter, and you betrayed me."

  Tarius was instantly on her feet. "You! How dare you!" Tarius started to breathe so hard that he could hear her every breath. "Who betrayed who? You took me into your home to bring you honor, and I did. I loved you as a father. Your daughter was never yours to give, she gave herself. What the hell did you hope to gain by coming to this ship?"

  She switched to Kartik without a pause. "Quick, Rimmy, sound the alarm, and have the ship searched. Get our people back on board as soon as possible. This is some sort of trap."

  Rimmy nodded and ran off.

  Darian got the gist of Tarius's orders if not the particulars.

  "I came alone. No one knows I am here," Darian said.

  "Why would I believe you, old man?" Tarius spat out with venom. "After all you have done to me, after all you did to Jena . . ."

  "I am the injured party here."

  "After all this time, you still think that?" Tarius laughed. "Are you really that big a fool?"

  "I want to see my daughter. After that, do to me whatever you want," Darian said. "Will you allow her to see me, or is she your prisoner, too?" he asked holding up his tied hands where she could see them.

  "Jena has never been my prisoner, Darian," Tarius hissed. "Only you and Tragon ever tried to keep Jena prisoner. You should know better than anyone else that Jena could never be caged."

  Tarius walked over and grabbed a black shirt from a chair, slung it on and tied it. "Tweed, go and get Jena."

  "Yes, Great Leader," he said and left the cabin.

  A few minutes later Jena ran in. She was wearing a blue and red silk robe that came to just above her knees and her sword was in her hand.

  Tweed took up a position at the door.

  "What in hell is going on?" Jena asked running to Tarius's side.

  For answer Tarius nodded her head towards Darian.

  Jena looked at him, not recognizing him with a beard and in the dim light. The recent beating didn't help, either. "A stow away? What?"

  "It's your father, Jena," Tarius said in the Kartik tongue.

  Jena took a second look, and she moved still closer to Tarius. "The bastard! Has he brought the kingdom upon us?"

  "I don't think so. I have the crew looking to make sure, but I think he just wants to see you."

  "Well, I don't wish to see him," Jena shot him a hateful look.

  Darian got the gist of their conversation.

  "Why don't you want to speak to me? Is there no room in your heart for forgiveness?" Darian asked. "What I did to you . . . With Tarius, encouraging you . . . Pushing you towards him . . . her. Then making you marry Tragon . . . It was wrong. All wrong, and I'm sorry."

  It took Jena a second to remember her Jethrik. "Where did you learn Kartik?"

  "I know just a little. I learned it hanging out on the docks here hoping to hear some news of you," Darian said.

  Jena looked at Tarius and spoke. "See why I don't want to talk to him? He still thinks what he did to you was all right. He thinks you and I together is a mistake. Throw him off the ship."

  "I can't; he knows too much," Tarius said. "And we both know he can't be trusted."

  "We could kill him," Jena said angrily.

  Tarius made a face. "We will not kill your father, Jena."

  "Then what?" Jena asked.

  Rimmy ran in then. "Great Leader . . ."

  Tarius sighed. "What is it Rimmy?"

  "Great Leader. All are on board and accounted for. No army or forces found. We are awaiting your orders."

  "Weigh anchor and hoist the sails. We head out tonight," Tarius said. She glared at Darian. "Why take any chances?"

  "Aye, aye." Rimmy ran off.

  Darian finally figured out what had been said. "Leave? You're going to leave port? You're going to kidnap me the way you did my daughter?"

  Tarius had started for the door, but she turned in the doorway. "I was in the Kartik when your daughter came looking for me there. Jena wants to be with me, and that is the crime I have committed for which you cannot forgive me. I have to go to the helm." She glared at Darian and turned again to leave.

  "Rimmy, keep an eye on him."

  Jena glared at her father, and he glared back. Except for her coloring, he might as well have been looking at a Kartik. Jena had six gold rings in her right ear and three in her left. Her hands were callused and covered with sword cut scars.

  She moved to sit in the big chair Tarius had been sitting in, and she set her sword on the table in front of her as if daring him to try and grab it.

  "Can I sit down? I'm not as young as I used to be."

  "Rimmy, get him a chair, please," Jena said.

  Rimmy nodded and did as he was asked. Darian sat down slowly, favoring his right side.

  "You know I never told them that it was you who killed Tragon. I blamed it on Tarius, and they believed me. You could have come home at any time," Darian said.

  "Don't you get it, Father? I wanted everyone to know I killed Tragon. I'm glad I killed him. Because of him Tarius was very nearly killed, my whole world was turned upside down. The bastard killed my child. Do you know what it's like to have something alive in you one minute, and then have it painfully thrown from your body? To have to put that tiny dead thing into the earth, burying the dreams you had for a child in a grave?" Jena asked. She choked back her tears.

  "If you are not a prisoner, then leave with me now. Let Tarius go where the wind blows her, but you stay here in the Jethrik with me," Darian pleaded.

  Jena got up and started pacing the room. "Haven't you listened to a word I've said? I don't want to be here. I love the Kartik. The Marching Night is my pack. Tarius is my mate, my lover, the only one I have ever wanted or will ever want. I love Tarius. I love her because she is a woman. I love her because she is the Katabull. I love her because she is Tarius the Black. And do you know what, Father? She loves me. That wonderful, damn-near goddess-like person loves me. She worships the ground I walk on, and what is so damn awful about that?" Jena grabbed her sword up and started to leave the room, but she turned in the doorway. "What the hell are we going to do with you?"

  She turned to Rimmy. "Take him to the hold and lock him up. You're needed on deck."

  * * *

  Darian felt the ship pull away from the docks even as he was being locked in a cell in the hold. They didn't leave a guard, but one look at the lock and bars told Darian he wasn't likely to get out.

  Where the hell would I go if I did get out? I'm out at sea surrounded by the most fearsome group of fighters ever assembled. Hell, most of them are probably Katabull.

  Jena appeared at the door to his cell with a cup. "Ever been at sea before?"

  "Not since I was a lad," Darian answered.

  "Better drink this then. It's a Kartik tonic. It tastes vile, but it beats the hell out of sea sickness." She handed it through the bars to him, and their hands touched. She quickly drew hers away.

  "Thank you," Darian took the cup. His hands were still tied, and he had trouble getting it to his mouth. When he had finished it he handed the cup back.

  Jena sighed. "Here, let me untie your hands."

  He held them out, and she untied them. As soon as they were loose, he grabbed her hand without warning, and she moved swiftly, banging his head into the bars. Darian stumbled back rubbing his head.

  "I wasn't going to hurt you!" Darian protested.

  "Then I'm sorry," Jena said.

  Darian looked sad. "You've seen a lot of action, haven't you?"

  "I've seen my share," Jena said noncommittally.

  "Is Harris . . ."

  "He's fine. Married to a Kartik swordswoman, part of the pack of the Marching Night. They're expecting their first child, so they are at home with the Katabull Nation," Jena said. In s
pite of herself, she was enjoying talking to her father.

  "And Arvon?" Darian asked.

  "Arvon and Dustan stayed to continue to clean the coast of the Amalite scum," Jena said.

  "They're still alive and together then . . . that's good," Darian said in a far away tone.

  "All right, Father, explain this one to me. Why are Arvon and Dustan a good thing, and Tarius and I aren't?"

  "Because neither of them ever pretended to be anything different. Because neither of them are my only child," Darian said.

  "Fine," Jena started to go.

  "Wait, Jena . . . I'm sorry," Darian looked at the floor. "Tell me what you and Tarius and the Marching Night are doing at sea in an Amalite vessel? You've fixed it up to look like a Kartik freighter, but it was originally Amalite."

  Jena was silent.

  "Who can I tell?" Darian asked.

  "We are working with Queen Hestia and the Kartik army. We have five such ships, which the Katabull captured from the Amalites. The Amalites have been raiding Kartik ships. When they raid our ships, they will get a surprise," Jena said.

  "I'll give her this; she's clever," Darian said with a laugh.

  "You'd better decide she's more than that, or this will be a very long trip for you, and when we get to the Kartik I'll have Hestia throw you into the darkest dungeon in her castle," Jena promised.

  "You have that kind of pull with the queen, do you?" Darian scoffed.

  Jena smiled wickedly. "Haven't you heard what the crew are calling her, father? My mate, Tarius, is the queen's most powerful ally, because she is the chosen leader of the Katabull Nation. Hestia will do anything I ask her to do just to keep Tarius happy."

  * * *

  Jena went to bed and went to sleep. When she woke up Tarius was with her, but Jena didn't remember her coming in. She got up as carefully as possible so as not to wake Tarius. She dressed in puffy pants and a wrap around shirt, slung her sword on her back and went barefooted up on the deck, only to find her father standing on the bow looking out to sea. Jena ran up to him. "How did you get out?" Jena demanded. She was about to call for someone to come and get him and lock him up when her father answered her, not bothering to turn around.