Sword Masters

by Selina Rosen

  "Tarius released me. Said she saw no sense in keeping me in lock up since I couldn't go anywhere," Darian said.

  "Tarius . . . What in the gods' names was she thinking? Why, you'd kill her in her sleep if given half a chance," Jena said.

  Darian turned then. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing."

  "Oh, I don't know, maybe because you condoned . . . No, demanded that she be executed for the great crime of loving me. Or maybe it's because you held me still with your hand over my mouth while you gleefully watched your precious ruler stick an arrow through her body while she was stocked and tied to the back of a wild horse. Maybe because you watched as that horse dragged her off through the underbrush and did nothing but cheer. She may trust you, but I most certainly do not. In my eyes, you're no better than an Amalite. Worse, because Tarius never turned a stone to hurt you." Jena stomped back down the deck towards the hold. Halfway there she stopped, and without turning around said with venom, "You so much as look at her the wrong way, old man, and I'll kill you myself."

  Darian watched as she disappeared from sight. He didn't know what he had expected when he tried to sneak on the ship to steal Jena last night, but it certainly wasn't this. Jena hated him. She was not being held captive by Tarius or the Marching Night. She was here only because she wanted to be here. She loved the man, woman, beast, human—whatever. Truly loved her, so much so that she would renounce her kin and her country.

  That being the case, what real crime had Tarius committed against him? He had lost face, and he had lost his daughter. But how much of that was Tarius's fault, and how much of it was his own?

  He was stuck with them now, because they would never let him go back to the Jethrik. Darian wondered who would run the school. What would they think had happened to him when they found his horse at the dockside with him nowhere in sight? His whole life had changed, and only one thing was really clear. If he didn't want to spend the remainder of his life in a dungeon in Kartik, he had better find a way to forgive Tarius the Black and get Jena to forgive him.

  * * *

  "But why? Why did you do that?" Jena demanded, nearly screaming.

  "Because . . . he's your father, Jena."

  "Exactly my point. My father, the man who helped Persius try to kill you. The man who made me marry that awful Tragon!" She was screaming now.

  "If you could forgive me, you can forgive him," Tarius said looking up at Jena from where she was sitting on the deck working on her armor.

  "It's not the same, Tarius," Jena said, breaking Tarius's gaze. She started pacing back and forth in front of Tarius, waving her hands wildly in the air. She had all of Tarius's attention now, her armor repair temporarily forgotten.

  "It is the same," Tarius insisted. "I'm sure that in his eyes what I did was much worse than what he has done."

  "You didn't order him killed," Jena said. "You didn't stand by and ignore the fact that Tragon was going to rape me. Didn't stand ideally by and do nothing while he killed my baby, and you never would have."

  "But I wasn't there for you, Jena," Tarius said in a low voice.

  "But that wasn't your fault, Tarius. It was at least in part his fault that you weren't there with me. You weren't there—you don't know how he pleaded with the king for your death." She started pacing again. "Why the hell did he have to come on our ship? Another few hours and we would have been gone. Now we're stuck with him, and it just makes me want to scream."

  Tarius let out a growl and jumped up. She ran to Jena, grabbing her and throwing her over her shoulder.

  "Tarius," Jena laughed. "What the hell are you doing?"

  Tarius just growled and continued carrying Jena towards the cabin as the crew whistled and yelled.

  Jena laughed and shook her head. "But it's the middle of the day! What about your armor?"

  "You do something to me when the fire's in your eyes," Tarius said in a low voice.

  "Well, in that case," Jena started playing at getting away.

  #

  Seeing Jena struggling against Tarius as Tarius started to carry her off below, Darian made a move to go "rescue" his daughter.

  "You'll only embarrass yourself, old man," a woman said in Jethrik as she grabbed hold of his arm. "She's not hurting Jena, and she's certainly not forcing her. They're just playing a little game."

  "How can you be so sure?" he asked.

  "Because I've been riding with them for three years now. I know you'd like to believe different, but Jena is with Tarius because she wants to be. Tarius doesn't have to force her," she said.

  "I'm beginning to understand that, but . . . a game?"

  "We Kartik like our sex," she said with a smile. "My name's Radkin, and you are?"

  "Darian," he said simply. "At home I have much wealth. Help me get back to my homeland with my daughter, and I will make sure the deed does not go unrewarded."

  Radkin laughed. "First off, I have no idea how one would go about doing that. Trying to get Jena away from The Great leader, I mean. If Jena didn't kill you, Tarius most surely would. Second, I don't think you understand the nature of the pack of the Marching Night. None of us would betray Tarius, not for any amount of money. Not for anything. Every one of us would give our life for her—or for Jena for that matter. As they would for us. Riding with her, to be part of the Marching Night, is to know that you are the best. That you are a part of the greatest fighting force ever assembled, and no one I know would give that up. Third, if you are going to ask one of the Marching Night to betray Tarius, at least have the good sense not to ask the Katabull." Radkin smiled at the look of shock on Darian's face.

  "She is queen of the Katabull?" Darian asked.

  "She is our Great Leader," Radkin answered.

  "Is she a good leader then?" Darian asked curiously. "I know in battle she is one of the best."

  "In battle she is the best. And as leader she is the best. Understand this, Tarius was not set upon the throne without much thought. She didn't beg for the position, she pleaded against it. What better leader could you ask for than one who doesn't want the power?" she said.

  Katabull logic he presumed. "Where did you learn to speak Jethrik?" Darian asked.

  "Working the docks in Kartik," Radkin said.

  "Do all of the women there do men's work then?" he asked.

  Radkin stared at him. "Men's work? What does that mean? Work doesn't belong to men or to women, but to both. What a strange culture you must live in! Men's work indeed! Next you'll be telling me they have women's work as well." She laughed.

  "Is that," Darian pointed in the direction Tarius and Jena had gone. "Is that common, too, where you come from?"

  "Game play? Why sure! As I said, we Kartik like our sex, and you have to keep it fresh, don't you?" Radkin said.

  "I meant women with women and men with men," Darian said.

  "Oh, aye . . . Very common. Especially among the Katabull. Roughly two thirds of the Katabull are queer, myself included," she said.

  "How do you propagate?" Darian asked curiously.

  "Cross mating," Radkin said with a shrug.

  "What's that?" Darian asked, ashamed to show his ignorance.

  "One couple is female, one couple is male, and they cross mate with each other. We have the children together, and all four raise them. Cross mating. It makes the cubs strong, and makes sure they get lots of attention."

  Darian kept asking questions about the island and their culture and Radkin happily answered him.

  Truly it was a different world his daughter had been living in. No wonder she was so changed. No wonder she wasn't embarrassed about her relationship with Tarius. It was normal on the island. According to Radkin, Jena was the envy of every queer woman in the Kartik, and there were apparently plenty of them.

  Rimmy ran up to them. "Radkin, Jasper thinks he sees something from the crow's nest."

  Radkin nodded and ran off. Darian watched as she scurried up the ropes into the crow's nest. She took the glass from the man, looked a secon
d and then screamed out, "Amalites off the starboard bow and closing fast!"

  Both Radkin and Jasper slipped down the ropes to the deck. Everyone everywhere seemed to change places as the Kartik soldiers moved to look like a typical Kartik sailing crew, and the Marching Night ran below.

  "You'd better come with me." Radkin took Darian by the arm and dragged him below. He watched as the hand on his arm changed, became thicker, hairier. When he turned he was looking into the face of the Katabull.

  "Rimmy! Go get Tarius and Jena."

  Rimmy had changed as well.

  "Do I have to? You know they're going to be . . ."

  "Just go get them," Radkin ordered.

  Rimmy turned to go after them just as Tarius arrived pulling on her armor. Jena was right behind her doing the same.

  "Did anyone get my knee cop off the deck?" Tarius asked.

  "Here Great Leader," Tweed said handing it to her. Tweed also was the Katabull.

  "Thank you." Tarius nodded as she took it from him.

  They were armored faster than any army Darian had ever seen.

  "Give me my sword, and I will help you," Darian said. "The Amalites are my enemy as well."

  "No," Jena said. "You'd as likely kill Tarius as one of them."

  Tarius was busy giving orders, and slowly the fighters started to sneak back out on deck. They went on hands and knees crawling up against the edge of the ship's rails, out of sight of the Amalite raiding ship.

  Tarius seemed to look down at her feet, and as she raised her head she was the Katabull as well. She looked at Darian and smiled. "Wait till you see me sling steel as the Katabull."

  She kissed Jena on the cheek, and then together they crawled onto the deck.

  * * *

  Faced with only a token resistance, the Amalites got their grappling hooks into their prize and pulled the ships together. The Kartik soldiers did their part by running around and looking mortified and panicked. When the first Amalite foot touched their ship, Tarius gave the call, and the Marching Night attacked. Darian watched from the cabin as long as he could stand it, then he grabbed a mop, broke the head off it and ran into the fray.

  Nothing, absolutely nothing moved like the Katabull. Up sails, up ropes, over rails and barrels and each other. And no Katabull moved like Tarius the Black. Tarius leapt over the rail and into the enemy ship, slicing the first man she fell on almost in half. Punching the second in the face with the hilt of her sword so hard that she drove part of his face into his brain, killing him instantaneously. Then she was everywhere, and so, he noticed was Jena. The oddest thing was that Tarius seemed to always be aware of exactly where Jena was and just what was happening to her. At one point in the battle Jena was easily holding her own against not one but two men. Tarius appeared swinging in on a rope and killed them both before moving on. For his part, Darian helped to keep the Amalites from coming onto the Kartik ship. He slapped one man in the head with enough force to daze him and pushed another back into the boat.

  In minutes the battle was over. The Katabull took no prisoners. The Amalite bodies were tied together, weighted with one of the anchors and dropped into the ocean. They off loaded enough supplies from the Amalite ship to keep them at sea for a while, hopefully long enough to capture another Amalite ship. Half the Kartik soldiers and all the badly wounded boarded their prize. They changed the flags to Kartik banners and then they pointed the ship towards the Kartik. They would tell the others that Tarius and the Marching Night were delayed but well, so that they could stay at sea until they took out another raiding ship. Then they, too, would head for home.

  Tarius looked at the bloody stick in Darian's hand and smiled. "Kill any?" she asked him.

  "I think maybe one," Darian said, and he smiled back. "It's been a long time since I was in an actual battle."

  Tarius nodded and went off to check her troops. She made sure that every minor injury was being cared for. The girl was right. Tarius was a good leader.

  "Give me that," Jena grabbed the stick from his hand. "Leave it to you to wield a Katabull killing weapon."

  "It was all I had," Darian defended. "Damn it, daughter! I am trying to understand. I'm trying; can't you give in just a little?"

  "She's too much like you, Darian," Tarius said in his ear. She was still the Katabull. In fact, none of them seemed like they were in any hurry to change back.

  "What a horrible thing to say, Tarius!" Jena turned on her heel and stomped off.

  "See what I mean?" Tarius asked Darian in a whisper.

  "You aren't mad at me any more, are you?" Darian asked more than a little confused.

  "I have thought about what we said to each other the other night. I hurt Jena a great deal. If anyone else had hurt her that badly, I would have wanted them dead. I understand that. I could be mad at you for making her marry Tragon, but at least you didn't actually put him in her bed, and I did. Understand this, though. I was trying to give her what she said she wanted. It was never my intention to hurt her. I love her. I can't help myself; she's magnificent. We have both hurt and been hurt," Tarius said. "I never meant to fall in love with Jena, and I certainly didn't want her to fall in love with me. Surely you can see that it was only my love for Jena that was my great undoing."

  Darian thought about that a moment and then nodded in reluctant agreement.

  "I know it's not what you're used to. I know that our relationship, like the Katabull, is something that is tolerated by your people but never really accepted. But you have to realize that where I come from—in the Kartik—I could have been all that I am. But the Kartik were not at war with the Amalites, and the Jethrik was. My pain over my father's death still raged, and so I left my home to fight your war as my father had done before me, breaking your rules as he, too, had done. I love Jena with all my heart and soul, and I know that she loves me the same. I can give her everything a man could give her. In fact, I can give her more, because I let her be whoever and whatever she wants to be. When the war is over and the land is safe we will even have children if that's what she wants." Tarius stopped for a moment looking out at sea. "So the real question is not whether I'm mad at you, but rather are you still mad at me? Can you try to put aside your hatred of me long enough to see what I really am, instead of what you have decided I am? And then there is the second problem."

  "Which is?" Darian asked.

  "Can you convince Jena that you are truly sorry for what you did to her?" Tarius said. She turned and walked away. Darian watched her go.

  * * *

  For the next three days, Jena would not even deign to talk to him. She acted as if he did not exist in her space at all. It was driving Darian mad.

  Tarius was on the deck looking out to sea. She had hoped to run into another Amalite raiding party before this. Darian stomped up to her. "Tarius, you were once a Swordmaster. You are a fighter, so you know what I must be going through being separated from my weapon, knowing that if we go into battle my only defense will be whatever I can grab hold of on the ship. Give me my sword."

  Tarius turned to look at him, but before she could speak Jena ran between him and Tarius. "You will never hold a sword on this ship while I still take a breath," Jena said.

  "Tarius . . . are you the leader or is she?" Darian asked.

  "You still don't understand old man. As I have told you once before, Jena's a woman, not a toad. As I am a woman as well why would her will be any greater or smaller than mine in my eyes?" Tarius smiled and clasped her hand on Jena's shoulder. "In matters both great and small I always take Jena's counsel. In matters concerning you, since you are her kin and not mine, I'm afraid the decision is simply not mine to make."

  "The Marching Night—are they better than the Swordmasters?"

  "There is no comparison whatsoever. The least of the Marching Night could destroy utterly the best of the Jethrik Swordmasters," Tarius said boastfully.

  "Then put it to the test. I have seen you playing with practice weapons on the ship. Let me pick my oppo
nent. If I can beat them, then give me my sword," Darian said.

  Tarius looked at Jena appealingly. It was a sucker bet. One she could not lose.

  "You're on," Jena said and went herself to grab two practice swords from their storage place on the deck. "So, chose your opponent," Jena said.

  Darian looked around at the Marching Night. He even looked at Tarius for a second, which made them all grow very quiet. "You, Jena. I pick you."

  "Ridiculous!" Tarius screamed. "Preposterous! No! I say no! Pick another opponent."

  "Why? Can Jena not hold her own? Is she not part of the Marching Night?" Darian asked.

  "Because it's twisted and . . ."

  "I'll fight you, old man," Jena threw him the practice blade, "and you will lose."

  "Jena, I don't think . . ." Tarius started.

  Jena looked at her. "I want this."

  Tarius shrugged and stepped back, prepared to watch the old man trounced by his own daughter.

  Jena was relentless in her first attack, and Darian was glad they used the hollow bamboo sticks instead of the wooden swords they practiced with at home. Her first blow to his head would have likely driven him head first into the deck if they had. He landed one blow to her stomach, she flinched, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Tarius start forward and then stop when Jena glared at her.

  Jena caught him in the head, in the leg, in the stomach and in the head in a combination so fast he had no time to block, and he hit the deck. Jena turned to walk away as the Marching Night cheered.

  Darian stumbled to his feet, his nose bleeding. "I'm not done yet."

  Jena turned on him, the anger shooting from her eyes reminding Darian of her mother when she was mad. He smiled smugly at her, and she landed on him with a sound blow to his head. Then she sent a flying kick to his stomach. He fell again, and again she walked away.

  Darian again crawled to his feet. "I'm still not finished."

  Jena spun on him again, this time in a red rage. She battered him in the ribs with a series of blows that again knocked him off his feet, and scalded all the air from his lungs.

  This time she stood glaring at him. "Damn you! Stay down."