Blood Sabers

by Burbaugh, MF;

  The king said, “The Chief shall record this and its honors, and install it in the Museum.” He was holding my old MoH.

  He called us up and shook my hand, his wives all gave each of us a kiss and congratulated us on the marriage. The king whispered, “I am sorry, Prince and king are reserved titles for blood line. Ruler was all we could think of.”

  We were placed in front of the crowd. I do not think Sylvia got that many kisses in her whole life.

  The person with the Blood Red Katana stepped forward, shook my hand, Kissed Sylvia, and said to me, “I take protection of my adoptive daughters seriously. If you ever hurt her in the slightest way I will cut off your privates and stuff them down your throat. Understand?”

  I saw Sylvia smirk, and say, “My kind of daddy!”

  I nodded. “Umm, we have had this before, haven’t we?” He turned and was gone. ‘Flick, flick’ crossed my mind.

  The king and his Queens wished all merry and left.

  Chief said, “This concludes all our formal activities. The drinks are available in the Royal Hall and our newly found harpist shall declare whose heartstrings she has decided to play.”

  Chief gave me a hug and Sylvia a kiss. “Most Regal, don’t you think?” She took both our arms and moved us toward the large dining hall. “You are not permitted alcohol on your wedding night, but our tea is quite good, and try the bread and fish too. I command it by the way.”

  Two women came and somehow separated the long red train from the main dress, then we had seats of honor by the big floor and many came by and wished us well. Chief said, “A toast to our other bride and groom who had to rush off.” She held up her glass. “To Bill and Mary, may they have one hundred children!”

  “Hear, hear,” was heard around the room.

  “They just saw that part on TV,” Chief said.

  “They didn’t catch the rest?” Sylvia asked.

  “They got the I do’s and bits and pieces but we have a lot of dead spots in our coverage areas. They saw the medal exchanges and the toasts.” She had such a devious smile.

  My Captain was coming across the big hall with a young woman in tow.

  “Chief, the captain is quite a woman; is she unique in some way?” I asked.

  “Yes, she is a woman deeply in love with a legend, not sexually, but spiritually.” She stared off into space. “Many of us are.”

  “Chief,” My Captain said, “I present the harpist to you.”

  She stepped to The Chief and they looked in each other’s eyes and said nothing, just held hands.

  The girl moved in front of Sylvia and said, “The blushing Bride?”

  Sylvia nodded. The girl took both her hands and stared into her eyes, searching. I saw Sylvia jerk once, and again. The girl smiled hugely. Sylvia looked around in confusion.

  The girl took my hands, and said, “The groom, I believe?” And as I nodded she stared into my eyes. My heart! She ripped it out, I saw her, and she caressed it lightly, kissed it, and put it back. Most disturbing. She smiled, turned, and stepped into the center of the hall.

  “I am known as Kathy,” she announced. “I hit my seventeenth birthday in one week. I have come to pluck a man’s heart strings!”

  Laughter all around.

  The Chief and Sylvia were headed off somewhere, talking.

  Soon the girl was walking around the whole room, her circle getting smaller. She had her head down and a finger to her lips. She kept looking down but finally she ran up and thumped me hard in the chest. “You! But not now, I am too young yet.”

  I started to say something but she put her hand to my lips. “Say nothing.” I had stood up.

  She stood there. Bowed her head, she moved to where she wasn’t quite square with me, turning her head toward me and slightly up. She batted her beautiful black eyes—they had just a touch of blue around them—and I heard myself say, “Damn it, girl you know I don’t—” I caught myself, “umm, I mean you know men don’t like that!”

  “You like, yes?” She turned and walked away smiling. The place erupted. Some guy asked a woman, “He gonna marry another today?” She told him to shut up.

  Humm, seventeen, young. All I could think of to say was, “I’m going on my honeymoon!”

  Kathy raised her hand and said without turning, “Enjoy! I’ll kill you later.”

  The place erupted in laughter. I was not laughing.

  I found Sylvia and The Chief talking in a corner. I think Sylvia heard what went on. She was crying as I neared.

  They Call It Honeymoon

  “She is so happy you finally married her after all these years! You men can be so callous with love,” Chief said. “Congratulations to you both, many children, and a long life I wish on you.

  “We have a hidden little love nest way up in the cold country. It is basic and rough, but I honestly think you two will come to love it. The door has been repaired. It hasn’t been used in many, many years. It does have a fireplace and some basic necessities but I’m afraid you’ll still need a few repairs. All has been restocked and a helicopter waits outside with your items ready to go. Call Rodel when you know it is time to come back to us, there are no time restrictions,” she said.

  “One more thing, you both realize something is screwed up, but you have no idea what or why. That is as it should be. Go there, stay there together until you fully understand, and have worked it all out, be it a week or a year. It must be clear to you both before anything else can be done against your HH. Go, enjoy,” Chief said.

  My Captain said, “Ready?”

  As we left The Chief was talking to someone. “Have the builders get started on the repairs to old Camelot.”

  Sylvia and I stared out the chopper window on a beautiful fall colored valley. A couple hours later it turned to a snow line and we flew on. We topped a ridge and entered into a Crater Lake, very pretty. It was frozen, but trees and bushes filled the valley. A wide trail went up the mountain with a ski lift on it.

  “What time of year is it?” I asked My Captain.

  “Um, first month of winter, storm season starts soon, but storms only last a few days and the land becomes so beautiful after a fresh snow! Oh, we are almost there; I was told to give you these.” She held up four belts of ammo. “This is the wilds and we do have Pitaksaabe running around,” she said.

  “Saber tooth tigers?” Sylvia asked.

  “Yes, our first queen killed one and was made a king. We don’t hunt them, but we no longer fear them either. They have learned, and they now stay their distance, usually,” My Captain explained. “After we drop you we will go to the old Builders town, forty minutes flight away. You need do nothing but ask Rodel and we can be here.”

  “Yes, My Captain,” I said.

  She stared at me. “You know?”

  Sylvia quizzically looked at us both.

  “I know captains do not pull guard duty, I know captains don’t give their nation’s highest medal to anyone. I know also you are far more refined than a captain would be,” I said. “Now, tell me what I don’t know, please?”

  She looked at Sylvia and squeezed her hand. “You will understand, I think. We believe in prior lives. I remember one where I became a general. The UNF’s first female general. In this one I have re-attained that honor, sort of,” she said.

  ‘Click’. “You are the, ummm, General of the Armies! Five stars. The equivalent of The General from the videos! You have the full authorization to present any medal in the name of the king!” I touched the Queastra medal.

  “Well, yes, that is true.”

  “Why the deception?” Sylvia asked.

  “Only a partial one by omission. I am a Captain in the Knights of the Round Table, Royal Order. The equal of your Secret Service. It is the only rank we have. We work only for the Royal Family when in that capacity,” she said. “We only wear our Army rank when released from that task. Many of us were activated when you were found.”

  “Why the special treatment of us two?” Sylvia asked.


  “Sorry, even I cannot say more than I feel, and others feel. The UNF’s very survival may somehow be linked to you people and these HH you speak of. We have people that sense things, as you know. I sense a great evil approaches. Forgive me, I babble.”

  “I honestly thought the big guy with that blood red Katana was The General. The one who stood for Sylvia,” I said.

  “Truth, the day after you were seen approaching he abdicated that position to me and he takes the number two. All he said was, ‘it is appropriate’. Strange, I know. It was a shock to me as well. He is now and was then the same, The General. When he trained me on the final tier of swordsmanship, he broke my wrist once and my sword arm twice. All he said each time was, ‘The Koteck would eat cowards and weaklings’. I think that even today he could give the Bronze Goddess a good workout.”

  “Strange people,” I said.

  “Queen Sylvia, those moves you pointed out in the video, the Musashi ones? He never said a word, he practices those same patterns every day.” She studied Sylvia.

  “Those moves cannot physically be made, they are legends!” I said.

  “True, the man who adopted her is Legend,” she said. “We arrive. I require the red dress and necklace. They are a bit refined for the area. I will also store your sash and suit if you wish.”

  The chopper had landed and we stripped the items. I handed her the katana but she said, “No, it is Sylvia’s, the rest are inside.” She kissed Sylvia and said, “You are one lucky lady, not once, but twice.”

  We shivered in the cold as the chopper left. We ran to the door and went in.

  It was a cave. A beautiful fireplace was built against a wall and there was lighting. There was a black hook and a few copper pots, and some forked sticks. A wooden bed, chairs, and table. There were some bags on the floor. A wire that looked like a crude clothesline hung near the end of the bed with three pair of bright red panties and a nightshirt hanging on it.

  I picked Sylvia up at the door, carried her in, and set her on the bed. “Rustic isn’t the word for it,” I told her.

  “I love it,” she said.

  She felt the panties. “Silk.”

  I opened the bags. A Sturnum pistol, like the one in the museum, old but fully functional. I popped in a belt and fingered the safety and set it aside.

  I picked up a metal compound bow. “You think maybe this?”

  “Na, couldn’t be.” She did a couple practice pulls. “Smooth, interesting.”

  I picked up a crossbow with the five bolts in the side holder. I hefted it, turned on and off the sight. “I see what you mean,” and laughed. We saw all these items in the Museum.

  We finished unpacking. Some old, but usable winter gear. The bokken sets I saw the night of the videos. A heavy, wooden, two-handed sword was there as well.

  A single dove on a chain, a diamond chip for an eye. I looked at it and looked at it, poof, gone, “I guess this is for you.”

  She saw it, took it, fingered it, and carefully put it on the bedpost.

  A vibraknife and a few other items. Towels and soap, etc.

  She came into my arms. “Well, it is our first home for a while. Shall we christen it?”

  I smiled; the bed was large, and warm. I warned her of her stitches and she said not to worry, slow and easy for another day, but then watch out!

  We enjoyed the rest of the day and into the night. Hugging, kissing, and being on our honeymoon somehow made it all feel different, and I told her so.

  “Of course, we are husband and wife.”

  In the morning, I found our first problem. No bath or shower.

  “Rustic,” Sylvia said, and laughed.

  I took a pot and the blade and cut a hole in the ice, got some water and put it on the fire. She laughed and pointed to a faucet and sink in the back by the toilet. I shrugged.

  I took the small pot and put it on for tea. When the tea water was boiling, I added some leaves and let it brew for a while. I got a couple cups and poured the tea. I found and broke off some black bread and a few pieces of dried fish.

  I set it on the plates and we ate the fish; she chewed it slowly. I automatically dunked the bread then ate it. She watched me and then the fire.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” I said.

  “I feel love here. Much love. Peaceful. That’s all.” She continued to stare at the fire and sipped some more tea as I combed her hair out.

  I washed up the cups and we put on our cold suits, went out, and walked all the way around the lake. There were skis but neither of us were trained, and the slope was steep and narrow. That was out.

  She went back and brought out the compound bow and some arrows. There were some wooden targets stacked by the cave. I took a couple and set them up fifty yards away. I knew that was a long way for a bow.

  She looked through the sights and I saw her turning a weight thing. She nocked an arrow and drew it back. She looked at me then the target then through the sight. I heard her release her breath and the arrow sang.

  “Damn,” she said. “Way to low, almost three inches!”

  She brought up a new arrow, and let sing. Dead center. She sent ten down range, nine were dead center.

  I moved the target back, way back, over 200 yards. No normal bowman could get consistent hits at that range, if they hit at all. I could see it, but barely.

  She turned the weight thing and tensioners and let fly. “A lot more drop,” she said. A few more adjustments and sing, dead center. Eight more went in behind it.

  “I thought you said you never used one?”

  She laughed. “Nope, never touched one, but they are so easy!”

  “What is that thing you turn?” I asked.

  “This doohickey thing?” she asked, pointing to the weight.

  I nodded.

  “No clue, just felt right,” she said.

  “Strange, a woman from Earth never fired a bow, picks up a complicated double compound with adjustable tensioning and in two shots has it totally mastered,” I said.

  “I told you, it’s so easy, it is natural is all.” She smiled but I saw her puzzled look too.

  I had figured out the 44 and how to quick draw it, so I said, “Look, I have shot many weapons, but nothing like this old mule. It will take, oh, five rounds just to find the range. A bow isn’t much different.”

  I slapped it, fired it one time and back in oh, three tenths of a second. The target disintegrated.

  I just stood looking. “Impossible, damn it!”

  “See, a natural!” She kissed me. “I feel safe and I see why you got the medal now.”

  I went inside and pouted. She followed all bubbly.

  She saw my funk, sat on the bed, and stared into my eyes. I felt a tear of my heart, a caress, and a kiss and it was back.

  “I wish you people would stop doing that!”

  “I’m sorry, I think you have pretty eyes,” she said.

  We decided early in the afternoon was past our bedtime. Slow and easy and lovingly we passed the time.

  The Sleepers Awaken

  Later in the night, I sat watching the fire and sipping tea. Sylvia sat beside me.

  “Rodel, you there?” she asked.

  “Only if you want me to be,” he said.

  “You play music don’t you?” she asked. “Play some soft music, please.”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

  Some of the god-awfullest racket came out.

  “Please!” I shouted. “Bagpipes are not soothing!”

  “They are to me!” he said.

  Sylvia laughed. “I knew he’d say that!”

  “No accounting for taste I guess,” he pouted.

  I heard some wonderful mood music. Waves crashing, a thunderstorm sounding in the background.

  “Umm, I like that” Sylvia said. “Who wrote it?”

  “Hasn’t changed, I do it on the fly,” he said.

  Sylvia sat bolt upright, stared around a second, smiled, and pulled me to th
e bed. Thunder rolled, waves crashed, and I rode the big one all the way in. I feel asleep.

  I woke and Sylvia was sitting, watching me. I patted the bed. “Morning treat?”

  “Can’t, cycle started,” she said sadly.

  She came to the bed got down on her knees and took both my hands. She looked deep into my soul. “You are my husband here and anywhere else we go? Not just now to meet their rules?” she asked.

  “Wow, heavy stuff so early? What brought that on?” I asked.

  “John, I need to know, I must know the truth, please?” She was almost tearing.

  “I meant every word I said of their or anyone else’s vows. My body, my mind and my soul are, as always, yours to command. I swear it,” I told her.

  “Rodel?” she asked.

  “Yes, my Queen?” he said.

  “Pass on to The Chief, yes. That is all,” she said. “Oh, tell her your mood music does wonders to awaken a sleepy soul.

  “You skate dear?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “You ice skate? I use to when I was a little girl.”

  “Did some, little hockey too, why?” I asked.

  She went to the back corner and brought out a couple sets of skates. “I saw these, they happen to be our sizes.” The lake was frozen and the wind had kept the ice clear of snow. “Let’s go skating, my love,” she said, and we got dressed.

  I went first and made a few test jumps to insure it was safe.

  We skated for a few hours. I was really enjoying it. I think she was too.

  I took her hand and spun her. She went spinning around and laughing. She was about ten yards away. I saw the ice crack; I saw her leg break through. I screamed.

  I ran and grabbed her. I saw her sinking in my mind, I could not get to her. The bubbles stopped, she was dead.

  I pulled her away from the hole, which was getting bigger. I just kept screaming and pulling until she was on shore and in my arms and safe.

  I hugged her, kissed her, and hugged her some more, and I was crying and rocking her.

  She finally looked up. She was laughing.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, I was scared too, but once you had me I knew I was safe. It was just what you kept yelling!” She asked, “I remember, but do you?”