Sword Masters

by Selina Rosen

  The birth attendant undid the blankets just enough to tie a string around the umbilical. "Do you want to cut the cord?" he asked Harris.

  Harris looked from his son to Tarius. "I want Tarius to do it with her blade."

  "I would be honored." Tarius pulled her blade and cut the cord where the birth attendant instructed.

  "You must show me what you did, Great Leader," he said with admiration.

  Tarius nodded silently and sheathed her sword. She wiped the baby goo and blood from her mouth with a towel one of the lesser attendants handed her.

  Harris undid the baby's blankets and looked at his feet. "He's all right!" Harris cried. "He's tiny, but he's not deformed." Harris looked at Tarius. "How can I ever thank you, Tarius? You saved our son."

  "Harris, you saved my life, remember?" Tarius said. "You owe me no debt; it is I who will owe you. Always."

  "We shall name our son Tarius," Elise said. "It was you who brought Harris and I together, and you who breathed your very breath into him to give him life."

  Harris nodded in an approving way. "If it's all right with you and Jena, Tarius."

  "It is," Tarius said.

  Jena nodded silently.

  "I . . . I have to go now." Tarius stepped quickly from the hut.

  Jena looked at Harris. "I better go check on Tarius. I am so happy for you all." She left to go after her mate. She found her a few feet away leaning against a tree with her hands on her knees and crying like Jena had never seen her cry before. Jena went to her and put an arm around her waist. "Tarius what's wrong? You saved him. He'll live now. I just know it."

  "I don't know why I'm crying," Tarius cried. "Yes, I do. Your child—our child died because of me. Who was there to save him? Not me."

  "Tragon killed our child, Tarius. You are no more to blame than I am. All I had to do was ask Arvon to take me to you, and he would have done so. But I was afraid, so I waited till it was too late. It was not to be, love," Jena said gently.

  "I had just told them I wouldn't allow their child to die, but when I was standing there breathing into him and rubbing his chest I was just guessing. I had seen Robert do it, but that was on full-grown men. Not a tiny baby. And even with all Robert's skill, most of the grown men didn't live long. For a minute I was as sure as everyone else that the baby was dead, and that I had failed Harris. Harris, to whom I owe my life. It was just luck, and the will of the Nameless One that the baby started to breathe. Then Harris and Elise heap these honors upon me. There was only one other time in my life that I have felt as helpless and as truly frightened as when I was holding that tiny baby in my arms trying to breathe life into it. That was when I realized that Persius was going to expose me in front of you." She dried her face on the back of her hands. "He named his son after me. Me! And I owe everything to him."

  "And he owes everything to you. So the two cancel each other out, and there is no debt between you. He knows how you feel about him, and you know how he feels about you." Jena smiled then and kissed the top of Tarius's head. "If it makes you feel any better, you can name our first son Harris."

  Tarius smiled and stood up; she hugged Jena tight. "And I was just thinking how confusing it was going to be to have two of me running around."

  * * *

  The baby struggled that first night, but by noon the next day Jazel was there with her powders and her potions. Within hours the baby's breathing became more regular, his appetite increased, and his color improved.

  Tarius invited Jazel to eat with them. She sat across the table from Tarius. "All right, so what is it you want now?" Jazel asked after they had finished their meal.

  Jena laughed and started to clear away the plates.

  "I want you to go to Amalite with us. To help us annihilate the Amalites," Tarius said. "Run a few stealth and silence spells, do a little medicine."

  "I'll do it on one condition," Jazel said.

  Jena didn't let her finish. "Tarius is not sleeping with Helen."

  "Now damn it, Jena," Jazel said. "Put yourself in my position. How would you like to have a woman who was always lusting after another? If Tarius would just do her once and do a really bad job of it, slobber and fart maybe start talking about a beheading—Helen has this fear of being beheaded—my life could get back to what it once was."

  "Sorry," Jena said.

  "Then I'm not going," Jazel said crossing her arms across her chest.

  "All right then," Tarius said.

  "Over my dead body!" Jena screamed out angrily.

  "Jena, we have to do what's right for our people. We all have to sacrifice. Of course I can't promise to do a bad job, because I am after all the Katabull." She looked at Jena with meaning, and Jena smiled.

  "Yes, you are the Katabull," Jena said.

  "What the hell has that got to do with anything?" Jazel asked.

  "Sometimes when I'm . . . Well, you know doing it. I become the Katabull."

  Jena looked starry eyed. "Does she ever!"

  "After that, I really have no control over what I do sexually."

  "It's amazing!" Jena moaned out.

  "Wait a minute," Jazel said suspiciously. "Are you trying to scam me?"

  "It's a little-known fact about the Katabull," Tarius said. "But I wouldn't worry, Jazel. I mean after all it's a one-time thing, and Helen does love you, doesn't she?"

  "The last thing I need is you doing her so good I can never compete!" Jazel fumed. "OK, then here's my compromise. Whenever you are around Helen, you have to wear this special potion which will make you unappealing to her."

  "Will it affect me as well?" Jena asked.

  "No . . . All right, so it's not really a potion, it's just a fragrance Helen hates, but maybe it will do the trick anyway," Jazel said. She shrugged. "So, I guess I'm going to go fight your war with you."

  Chapter 20

  Three weeks later, the Kartik armada set sail for the coast of Amalite.

  Hestia, Dirk and the royal retinue rode on the Silver Eagle with Tarius, Jena and the Marching Night.

  Hestia was taking a sword lesson from Tarius on the deck. She had thought herself a fair swordswoman, but after four minutes of sparring with Tarius the Black, she felt inadequate and wondered why she hadn't stayed home in her castle where she was safe.

  "She's very good," Darian said to Dirk.

  "Tarius is trouncing her, so how can you tell?" Dirk asked with a laugh.

  "By how long it's taking for Tarius to trounce her. There is no shame in losing a sword fight to Tarius. She's the best swordsman who ever lived," Darian said.

  "You're her woman's father, aren't you?" Dirk asked.

  "Yes," Darian said. "I once tried to have Tarius killed, did you know?"

  "No, I didn't," Dirk replied.

  "Well, I did. I was filled with a red rage and couldn't see past my own hurt and embarrassment. I thought I'd never get used to the two of them together. Now I can't imagine them being apart. They just seem to belong together."

  "After the war, will you remain in the Jethrik?" Dirk asked curiously.

  "No. If I live, I will go back to Kartik. Jena is there, and she tells me they'll start their family when they get back. I hope I live to tell my grandchildren stories about sitting on the deck of this ship heading for war with the Amalites, talking to the queen's consort."

  Dirk laughed and nodded. "I hope we all get to tell stories to our grandkids."

  * * *

  Hestia held up her hand. "I must rest."

  Tarius nodded. Hestia sat on a chair, and Tarius sat on the deck getting glares from every Katabull that saw her. She waved a flippant hand in the air, dismissing their disapproval.

  "So, have I got time to learn everything about combat and strategy before we land and start fighting?" Hestia asked.

  "I thought that's why you were riding with us," Tarius said with a smile. "The truth is you can only learn technique from practice. You learn warfare by fighting in it. You wanted to be Hestia the Warrior Queen, so prepare yourself.
"

  Hestia nodded. "I'd rather die being Hestia the Warrior Queen than live being Hestia the Dull," she said. "I was trained for battle all my life, yet I have never really crossed swords with anyone. I have never drawn my enemy's blood or had mine drawn. I have never watched my opponent's life drain from his body or wondered whether I was about to die. Look at you, Tarius. Your body is a map of scars telling where you've been and what you've done. Minstrels write songs about you and your adventures, and bards weave tales. There is no one in all the world who doesn't know who Tarius the Black is. I doubt the average Kartik in the street even knows my name let alone anything about me. I'm a good ruler, but a highly forgettable one. I don't want to be. I want passion; I want this." She flung her arms wide. "The sea wind blowing through my hair on a ship with the best fighting force the world has ever known going to do battle against our enemies with no idea of the outcome."

  "War isn't romantic, Hestia . . ."

  "Jena has already told me the little speech you gave her, so spare me, Tarius," Hestia said. "I know all the cons of going off to war. The gods know, my advisors have pointed them all out to me. Leaving my younger and dumber brother in charge while we're away, the very real possibility I'll be killed, and all the rest. I just don't care anymore. I know it's a terribly selfish thing for a monarch to say, but I want to have an adventure, to truly taste life. I want to do something that I want to do. This is something I want to do."

  Tarius nodded. "Like me you were born to the sword."

  "How can you say that after you just trounced me?" Hestia said in disbelief.

  "Because I beat everyone," Tarius said smugly and jumped to her feet without using her hands. "I'm also the Katabull." She took off for the helm where Jena was standing looking out to sea.

  Hestia watched her go.

  "She's amazing isn't she?" Dirk said at Hestia's shoulder.

  "She's like no one I've ever met," Hestia said. "She taught me more about fighting in a few minutes than I learned from all my instructors in twenty years."

  "There is no one I have talked to that doesn't adore her. Yet she is blunt and uncultured and quite frankly a little scary if you ask me," Dirk said.

  "Well, the Amalites don't like her, and neither does the Jethrik king," Hestia said. "At some point I will have to meet with Persius, and I haven't quite figured out how to handle that as far as Tarius is concerned. I mean Tarius is my ally; she's running the war, really. I'm just here for show. How do I force Tarius into a meeting with the man who betrayed and tried to kill her?"

  "Could be a sticky situation," Dirk said.

  Hestia nodded. "Surprising enough, I don't think Tarius would be the problem. Don't get me wrong, I don't think she'll ever forgive him, but she's obviously willing to overlook her personal feelings to go after the Amalites. Of course that only proves that she hates the Amalites more than she hates Persius. No. Tarius won't be the problem; Persius will be. I mean after all if I were him, I'd be scared to death of Tarius the Black."

  * * *

  The garrisons hadn't been finished when the Amalites started to attack in force. Thank the gods the villages had been armed and trained and were able to slow down the Amalite horde. The garrisons, even half-finished were better than nothing at all, but they were losing ground daily.

  "By the gods!" Persius screamed. "Must this accursed woman haunt me all the days of my life with her curses?" He literally pulled at his hair. Then he glared at Hellibolt, who shrugged.

  "Don't look at me. I told you she was right about the Amalites, but you wouldn't listen to me, either," Hellibolt said.

  "What can we do now?" Persius walked over to the map and looked down at it. "They are everywhere like locusts, and we are spread ever thinner to cover their attacks."

  Hellibolt looked at the map, then he sighed and took a deep breath. Admittedly, it didn't look good. "Tarius used to go into the camps as the Katabull the night before an attack. It gave us an edge."

  "You knew! You knew all along that she was the Katabull!" Persius screamed accusingly.

  "Excuse me," Hellibolt said raising a hand in an elaborate gesture. "The moment I first laid eyes on her I told you she was neither male or human. You ordered me not to ever say it again. Remember?"

  "So I did," Persius sighed. "Perhaps we could call for the Katabull in our country to come forward to help us in our war effort. Perhaps . . ."

  Hellibolt was shaking his head violently. "After what you did to Tarius, the Katabull have become more secretive than ever before. As for helping us, why would they?"

  "Because they don't want the Amalites to win the war," Persius said. "The same reason that Tarius joined us in the first place."

  "Won our war for us and was ordered killed by our king for her efforts. You won't get the Katabull to help you, Persius," Hellibolt said. "I wouldn't help you if I were them. They can always go to the Kartik. It's a wonder to me that any of them have stayed here at all."

  "What then? We're running out of forces, and I'm running out of ideas," Persius said.

  Hellibolt looked thoughtful. Suddenly he snapped his fingers together. "I've got it! We don't have to have the Katabull, we just have to make the Amalites think we do. We can use the same underhanded tactics Tarius did." He started pacing then and mumbling to himself. "Yes, it just might work."

  "What might work?" Persius asked.

  "We put a glamour on some of our better fighters to make them look like the Katabull. We send them in under cover of night. I will put a stealth spell on them, and they shall travel silently through the camp, slitting the throats of the Amalites in their beds. When they are detected they will run around like mad men killing anything that moves and then retreat," Hellibolt said. "This is what Tarius did that gave us an edge in battle."

  "She slit the throats of sleeping men?" Persius asked in disbelief.

  "If you mean to kill a man, why does it matter how you kill them? The only ethics that can be applied is whether you choose to kill them slowly and with pain, or quickly. We both know what you choose when given a choice, so who are you to be judgmental?" Hellibolt said.

  "Our men will never agree to this," Persius said.

  "They will. They know how badly we are losing. They know the cost if we lose this war to the Amalites—death or slavery to the priests of the Amalite—no one wants that. They will do what has to be done," Hellibolt said. "I also suggest you get in touch with the barbarian kings and beg for their support. They are good fighters, and they no doubt realize the stakes if we fail," Hellibolt said.

  Persius nodded. "We will put your plan into action, but I'm afraid our best efforts will only mean we will not be defeated as quickly. I have doomed my country and my people to death and tyranny, just as Tarius said I would."

  Hellibolt was silent.

  "You know what I have said is true," Persius said, correctly reading the wizard's silence. He laughed almost hysterically. "You want to know the thing that haunts me most, Hellibolt?"

  "What's that, Persius?"

  "I never loved any woman as I loved Tarius. When I thought her a man, I thought my feelings for her sick, perverse, and I locked them away. I thought I was going mad. When I knew she was a woman, I knew I loved her. But because she was queer, I knew she would never love me. It was the worst of everything. She had fooled me into believing she was a man, but as a woman she would never return my feelings. That's the real reason I wanted her dead, Hellibolt. The real reason I wanted her to suffer. I was a blind fool, not once, not twice, but over and over again. Every day is for me a private hell, and the thing that makes it unbearable is that I know I have done it to myself. I know I deserve it."

  "She's not dead yet, Persius," Hellibolt said, moving to put a hand on Persius' shoulder. "While you are both still living, there is yet a chance that you might redeem yourself. Not just in her eyes, but in your own as well."

  Persius pulled away from him and walked to the window. "There are some crimes for which one dare not ask forgiveness. Such are
the crimes I have committed against Tarius the Black."

  * * *

  The ships attacked the docks at Armond. At approximately the same time their ships hit every other harbor in Amalite. Tarius's army poured out of their ships, some before the gangplanks were dropped. The fighters on horseback boiled up out of the belly of the ship over the gangplanks and into the unsuspecting harbor towns. Meeting little resistance, the Katabull and Kartik armies laid waste to the Amalite seaports.

  Hestia and Dirk followed directly behind Tarius, Jena, and Harris, who rode behind a line of walking shield men. Behind Hestia were the rest of the Marching Night and the queen's guards with Arvon in command.

  Hestia had tried to prepare herself, but Tarius was right. There was no way to prepare. Their crossbowmen quickly took out the bowmen in the watchtowers, stopping the hail of arrows falling on them from above, but not before three arrows had landed in the small shield Hestia had strapped to her arm. Not before several of their men were wounded.

  Tarius called a charge, and their shieldwall opened for them to charge through. They were engaged immediately. The men tried to make a wall around her, to protect her, but the Amalites boiled in on them. She had killed her third man before she realized she had killed her first. All around her the Katabull were changing. They didn't do so before because they didn't want the bowmen to target the Katabull. The Amalites turned and fled in terror before the might of the Kartik/Katabull army that had landed in six ships on their shores. Not one escaped. Terrified civilians ran in every direction, and some—as Tarius had foretold—were mowed down, mistaken for fighters or in the way of a blow meant for one.

  Hestia saw Dirk to her right, but couldn't keep up with where everyone was or what they were doing. Tarius was screaming orders that were echoed through the ranks, and it was all she could do to try and do what she thought Tarius was commanding her to do. It was every bit as brutal, every bit as bloody, and every bit as frightening as Tarius had said it would be.