by Sierra Brave
Fevered Dream
Sierra Brave
Forget lovely slave girls captured by the Roman Infantry or the village ingénue carried away by the barbarian hordes, and saddle up for the story of real Amazons. Four fierce, hard-riding horsewomen of the Steppe happen upon a sexy landowner. Commander Xia and her warriors are in need of release and distraction, and D’Jwan must please them all if he is to find his true destiny.
FEVERED DREAM
Sierra Brave
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter One
Xia patted the neck of the animal she rode as the stallion slowed to a trot. Stealing a few horses and raiding a nearby settlement for supplies had been easy. Thunder, her recently acquired steed, had warmed to her right away. Thinking back, the real work had been escaping from aboard the ship where she and three other warrior women of her clan had been held.
She gritted her teeth, still angry every time her thoughts were invaded by memories of the Greek pirates who had taken her and her friends captive. She hated their faces, especially the tall man with the foul breath and hook nose. He had taunted her with the crew’s plans to sell them as slaves but Xia would have died before allowing her story to unfold that way. When her life under the great blue sky was over, she intended for those who knew her to sing of how she had lived fully and freely on the back of a horse, weapon in hand as she rode. Her gaze dropped onto the faint marks healing on her wrists from where she’d rubbed her skin raw while ridding herself of the ropes the sailors had used to bind her hands behind her back before stowing her below deck.
Once she freed herself and liberated her friends, they’d fought like animals, and she’d wiped the smug look right off the bad-breathed pirate’s face when she’d broken his beak. A tiny smile turned up the sides of her lips as she recalled the cracking sound as her boot connected with his face. Those bastards had squealed like pigs when she and her second-in-command had pitched them overboard. She and her crew of female warriors had taken over the ship and reclaimed all the gear those men had stolen from them. Damn bandits had taken everything but their horses, right down to the decorative saddles and adornments the women had bestowed on their cherished animals.
“What are you smirking about?” Kepes hitched an eyebrow.
“Our epic adventure at sea.” Xia chuckled.
Kepes groaned. “We should have kept someone alive who knew how to sail home. The best we could do was try to steer away from sudden death.”
“Us?” Xia laughed louder. “You looked green-faced by the time we made landfall.” Her friend had spent a lot of time with her head hanging over the side of the ship, but she was correct. Xia hadn’t been certain of exactly how far away the currents had taken them but she was smart enough to realize how unlikely seeing home or the rest of her tribe again was. The only bright side of being dragged away from her people was the good fortune of having been taken with the three warriors who meant the most to her.
Xia’s steed stopped to graze. As places went, the area where they landed wasn’t so bad—at least the climate was warm enough and there seemed to be plenty of game to hunt. Between the seashore and the area where they’d made camp, they’d passed three main settlements, and they’d pillaged them all on their way through. The first one had been a small fishing village. With most of the men out to sea, the weak women—untrained in the arts of battle—were easy pickings. Xia and her comrades had ridden in, shooting a few flaming arrows at fence posts and hay bales, and those homebodies snatched up their children, ran liked scalded cats and hid, leaving her raiding party to take whatever they’d wanted.
Next, they had hit a large farming community, ripe with loot. Though some of the homes were protected by brawny men made strong from hard work, most of them were not well armed and all of them were on foot. Even the few who were capable of mounting a horse weren’t expert riders and were no match against four seasoned horsewomen pulling a grab-and-run at dusk, a time when the townsfolk were pulling their boots off to relax after a long day of tilling and toiling in their precious dirt.
Xia’s nostrils flared and she frowned as she contemplated how anyone could live tethered to one spot like a hobbled mare. She didn’t understand those people but she didn’t despise them either. Now those who lived in the settlement to the east...they were the kind of people she hated the most. They were Scythians by blood but not hard-riding nomads like the people of Xia’s tribe. These Scythians were a bunch of rich traders who had long ago left the saddle to stand still and grow fat and weak. They were traitors to the nomadic way of life, though she could hardly say they were stupid.
After Xia and her friends had sacked the fishing village, the wealthy Scythians had sent Xia and her warriors an offering of sorts...a few good-looking, virile, young men. Xia appreciated the Scythians’ strategy—they’d hoped the handsome men might be able to seduce her and her friends into joining their village. But as tempting as their hard bodies had been, she and her fellow horsewomen would never be dominated by men or trapped inside the stones and mortar of a stationary abode. Xia smiled, remembering how exciting playing with those men for a while had been. They had shown up at a time when she and her warriors needed the release, especially Kepes. That one had become so restless, she couldn’t seem to take her hand out of her trousers, even while she was riding. Xia, Scyleia, Micah, and Kepes had met with those men several days in a row, had rolled around in the grass with them, and had ridden them hard, but soon enough the wind and the great blue sky started calling Xia and her girls. The saddle and the road were their home.
AFTER SPENDING NEARLY two days walking along the river with the sun against his back, D’Jwan had reached his destination, the ancient temple of his grandmother’s people, which stood among a vast sea of green grass. The days had been long and the evening cold, leaving him dirty and weary. His grandmother had been a young girl when she had left this land and remembered little of its charms but she did often speak of running through multitudes of short grass stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction. From what he had observed, her recollection had been accurate.
D’Jwan’s only companion was Malka, a farmhand his uncle had insisted he take with him. Malka was a man of many years though not so many he had become short of step or slow of sense. The dull-colored, short tunica Malka wore suited his stocky frame, though he may have been better off in this terrain if he had traded his sandals for some boots like the ones D’Jwan wore. As the hours had slipped by, the older man had seemed to rely more heavily on the walking staff he carried, and just as D’Jwan had feared, Malka’s labored stride had started to slow them down. On the other hand, the old man’s good temperament and his quickness with a jest or amusing pun had kept the journey from becoming too tedious or lonely. But he remained miffed his uncle believed he needed to be looked after like a child.
“It would appear we have arrived at our destination.” D’Jwan pointed out the ruins of the old temple visible on the horizon.
“Excellent, young master. I will check out the shrine before back-tracking to camp closer to the river but I shall return by midday tomorrow.”
“I was unaware of your interest in my grandmother’s goddess.” He lifted an eyebrow his lips pressed into a line as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Malka smiled at him while answering, “I simply want to evaluate the safety of the structure before leaving you.”
Learning exactly what he had already suspected, D’Jwan’s nostrils flared as he frowned. Sternly, he spoke, “I am no babe at the breast. Grandmother’s instructions were clear. The ritual I am to perform is intended to be a solitary endeavor. I would see you head back now.”
“But y
oung master,” the older man began before his gazed locked with D’Jwan’s. Malka sighed but acquiesced. “By your command.”
He watched Malka walk away before he made his way over to the temple. After removing the bundle from his pack mule, D’Jwan hobbled the animal to a small post he had to hammer into the ground himself. He would not dare defile the temple of his grandmother’s goddess by tethering a beast to the sacred stones. Old and little more than a partial building missing half its roof, the sanctuary was no larger than a two-room hut, comprised of dusty, stacked stones, slowly turning to rubble. Three corners of the structure still stood but the fourth had crumbled, caving in a good portion of the roof, yet the crudely carved statues surrounding the place gave off a strong air of spiritual power.
Cautiously, he entered, his robust legs and large feet stepping surely while he scanned all the cracks and crevices for snakes, scorpions or any other unwanted company. As luck would have it, one corner of the temple remained intact enough to provide shade and shelter, and a dugout pit nearby would allow for a fire next to his bedroll during the evening. After placing the sparse possessions he had carried with him down in the back most corner, D’Jwan headed outside to tend to his mule, providing her with some water before returning and beginning to set up his supplies. Opening his satchel, he removed everything he would need, starting with a portion of bread and a wineskin filled with water.
Grandmother had been clear in her warning: “Go not into the spirit land light of food or drink.”
He pinched off small portions, eating the heavy, barley-grained loaf until his stomach was full and then he drank half of his remaining water.
After placing his apothecary bowl down in front of where he sat with his legs bent and crisscrossed, he unfolded the cloth wrapped around the sacred herbs and mushrooms, placing them in the bowl. Using his pestle, he crushed the ingredients together as his grandmother had instructed before he removed the two vials. The first contained a small measure of fermented goat’s milk. He added the entire contents of the vial into the bowl, grinding the other ingredients into the liquid until a thick, murky paste formed. He lifted the other vial, his large hand shaking as he held the deadly ingredient. Hesitating, he set the vial down and took a deep breath, looking for a reason to stall. His heart pounded like a war drum. Ah...the fire!
D’Jwan stood before walking back out to where he had tied off the mule. He removed her second burden, a gathering of kindling wrapped tightly in a heavy cloth and tied with rope. After venturing back into the temple with the bundle, he eyed the concoction waiting for him there. Gathering his resolve, he placed the kindling in the pit and lit a fire by striking flint stones together until they sparked. Dusk was upon him by the time he stoked the fire to roaring, which was just as well. A trip to the spirit world in the light of day was frowned upon.
His heart pounded, but there was no more room for procrastination. He had to add the final ingredient to the paste and use the resulting concoction before the mixture dried up. Recently, his grandmother had spoken of a vision of her own, which had put his journey in motion. She had warned him of an idle future ahead of him. If he continued on the same path, he would drift aimlessly upon the land others now toiled for him, living an ordinary, lonely life unlikely to suit him. Only by returning to her homeland and visiting the spirit world would he be led to his true destiny. D’Jwan hadn’t been so sure about embarking on a spiritual quest. He’d not been fulfilled in his life back home, but he’d lived happily enough on his farm, tussling in the hay with some of the pretty, young milkmaids who served his family. His mother wanted nothing more for him than an easy life as the master of his villa, but his grandmother had been insistent more awaited him.
His pulse racing, he bit down on his lip as he opened the vial and sniffed the contents. He scrunched his nose at the strong odor of the nasty poison. After entering the blood on the head of a spear or arrowhead, the toxin led to a quick and painful death, but he had been assured small amounts had little effect when ingested. Still, he wasn’t in any hurry to find out for sure. Carefully, he added a single drop to the mixture, stirring until the poison combined with and diluted by the other ingredients.
As instructed, he swabbed two fingers through the sacred potion, working the paste over his forehead, leaving two horizontal stripes. He repeated the process across each cheek and his chin. The sick feeling in his stomach had his head muddled but he pushed forward—the worst was yet to come. He lifted the bowl toward his mouth. Digging in with his fingers, he pushed the mixture to the side and over the rim and then between his open lips.
D’Jwan filled his mouth with as much of the bitter-tasting concoction as he could stand, swallowing several times before he managed to force down the coarse-textured potion. He placed his hand over his mouth. His tongue swirled around his teeth as he held back the inclination to vomit. Dry heaving, his nostrils flared as he managed to swallow the last bit. He took a swig of his remaining water and gasped as the room began to spin. His vision clouded and his body swayed. Scooting backward on his bottom, he found his bedroll. He reclined and rested his head.
Breathing erratically, he stared upward, first at the portion of the ceiling that remained intact but soon his gaze wandered to the dark sky and the many sparkling handmaidens serving his grandmother’s Goddess in the heavens. Their brilliance seemed to pull him upward as if he was being swept into the light to soar and swim among the stars.
THE SOUND OF HOOVES pounded the grass as Xia’s hunting party road back toward where they had planned to make camp for the evening. Dusk had hastened their return but smoke coming from the ruins of a nearby temple kept them on horseback for a bit longer. Xia was curious to see who visited the temple of the old goddess. Her riders kept bows handy as they approached the decrepit and usually undisturbed shrine, pulling reins to soften trotting steps.
Scouting ahead, Scyleia took the first look, lifting one finger to signal the number within the temple. Xia galloped forward, her bow pulled, ready to set loose an arrow until she saw Scyleia’s second signal, informing the rest of the group there was no threat.
“Who dares disturb this sacred place we have claimed as our own?” Xia asked.
Laughing, Scyleia shook her head. “He is nothing and no one. Look at his clothing, a man in a dress.”
“A fucking dirt lover,” Kepes added, spitting to emphasize her disdain for anyone who would prefer a life hobbled to a patch of the ground to dig in, rather than the freedom of a saddle.
Xia dismounted. Her leather and fawn-skin boots protected her feet as she crossed a path of broken stones and rubble, standing on rough terrain as she studied the man twitching and shaking by the fire. His eyes were wide open yet he was not conscious but neither was he with them on their plane of existence. She eyed the muscular thighs and calves visible beneath his man-dress.
“Even still, he’s pretty to look at.” Xia moistened her dry lips with her tongue. She raised an eyebrow as she looked over her shoulder at the horsewomen accompanying her.
Her three companions answered with knowing smiles and mild laughter.
Turning around, Xia pointed into the distance. “Micah and Scyleia, you set up camp over there. Kepes and I are going to have some fun with this one but we’ll cut you in soon enough.”
Micah’s nostrils flared and her dark eyes cut to the side under their epicanthic folded lids as she voiced her distaste. “Look”—she pointed out the mule grazing nearby— “he probably can’t even ride.”
Xia smiled, baring her teeth. “Probably not but perhaps he can be ridden.”
More laughter broke out amongst the warrior women, much louder this time.
Kepes craned her neck, taking in the fine form writhing by the fire. She crowed in agreement. “I’m in.”
Xia reached out, placing a hand on the small of her friend’s back as she winked. “Somehow, I knew you would be.”
The two women moved in for a closer look at the beauty struggling against his dreams. His ligh
t-colored hair, as golden as the sun, fascinated Xia. She had heard of those called “blonds” but never thought she’d have the opportunity to see one. His wide-open, round eyes stared right past her as she delighted in their deep shade of blue. She might as well have been looking at a cloudless sky before dusk. She glimpsed down his form, her gaze brushing along his hard biceps before her thoughts wondered to what hid beneath the sheet-like clothing he wore.
“Ugh! He reeks!” Kepes complained.
Xia shot her a look, raising one eyebrow. She had seen Kepes fuck two warriors without leaving the saddle after a long day’s ride and she was going to make a fuss about the stench of a little fermented milk?
Removing the scarf she had tied around her waist to cinch her tunic, Xia folded the garment before wetting the cloth with water. Kneeling beside Blue Eyes, she wiped his face, finessing all the dried paste away a bit at a time. “See, we’ll just clean him up...more water.” She lifted the scarf to her second without ever taking her gaze off of the man before her.
Kepes took the scarf a little rougher than Xia would have expected. “Isn’t it a bit fucked up to mess with someone’s spirit quest?”
“Maybe, but if you haven’t noticed, his isn’t going well.” Xia picked up the bowl he must have used for mixing the paste, holding the container to her nose. “That’s not mare’s milk.”
“That matters?” Kepes asked.
“Nothing else binds the fungi as well. It’s not diluted enough.” Xia wiped the remaining paste off his face.
Kepes knelt on the other side of Blue Eyes before she placed her ear against his chest. “Sounds bad.”
“Sweating...” Xia unsheathed a knife she kept sticking out the top of one of her boots, cutting the short robe he wore from neckline to waist.
“At least he took off his boots before he drugged himself crazy.” Kepes grabbed one of his bare feet. Without warning, he kicked her like an obstinate mule. “Son of a whore!” she gritted her teeth as she righted herself.
