Black Crystal

by R A Oakes

  Sensing their growing irritation with him, Smig found a quick, simple way to neutralize the young woman’s chaperones. By the entrance to the village, Aerylln surprised her horse and sword by locating a stable for them, the “innkeeper” having informed her that no one was allowed to carry weapons in town, and that there were no hitching posts for horses in front of any of the village’s businesses, including his fictitious inn. Putting them up in a stable was a polite way of helping the horse and sword avoid any personal embarrassment, Smig had assured the young woman, who was touched by the “innkeeper’s” concern for her friends.

  “Now, this way to the inn,” Smig said smiling and motioning for Aerylln to walk in front of him. But as she passed the “innkeeper,” the teenager felt a hard tug at her waist and the old man started running down the main road through the village hoping to blend into the crowd.

  “He stole my purse! That old man stole my purse!” Aerylln shouted in disbelief, so surprised that she felt rooted to the spot.

  Smig’s injured knee didn’t seem to be bothering him, and he ran ahead shoving his way through a group of village women shouting, “Out of my way! Out of my way!”

  But as he ran past a woman traveler with a tall, sturdy walking stick, Aerylln saw her trip the vagrant with her staff and, with blinding speed, bring it down hard on his head. The unconscious purse thief literally had no idea what hit him as he collapsed in a heap on the ground.

  Aerylln was amazed that the female traveler’s actions seemed so effortless and watched wide-eyed and breathless as her protector retrieved her purse. The woman’s neck-length brown hair looked rather unkempt, and Aerylln thought it could use a good brushing. The warrior woman was wearing a black cloth shirt, black leather pants and a tight fitting leather vest laced halfway down the front. Slung over her back was a sword, and Aerylln thought, Smig lied, weapons are allowed in town.

  “Lose something?” the warrior woman asked tossing the purse to the teenage girl.

  “Thank you.”

  “Maybe you should choose your friends more carefully.”

  “I’m new at this, I guess,” Aerylln admitted.

  “Ah, not long out adventuring, I suppose. Well, my name is Corson. I’ve been to this village before, and I think I can show you a decent inn. C’mon let’s get some dinner. What do you say?”

  But at that moment a wagon went speeding past them, the reckless driver holding the reins in one hand, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in the other, and shouting encouragement to the galloping horses.

  “That wagon’s heading towards the thief lying in the road,” Aerylln shouted gasping as the horses trampled the vagrant, the cart bumping twice as both sets of wheels went over him.

  “It hit him!” Aerylln exclaimed.

  “He shouldn’t have stolen your purse,” Corson shrugged. “I hope you won’t let that spoil your dinner.”

  Aerylln didn’t know what to make of her new friend who appeared kind and thoughtful one moment, yet cold and callous the next. But feeling her tummy rumbling and remembering Mistress Xan’s beautiful dining room with its elegant flatware, cut crystal goblets and scrumptious meals, Aerylln didn’t think anything could spoil her dinner.

  Dreaming of food, Aerylln was lost in thought and trailing along behind Corson when the teenage girl accidentally bumped into her. Startled by how solid Corson’s back was, Aerylln at first thought she’d stumbled into a brick wall. However, while rubbing her forehead, the teenager realized she’d run into Corson instead having bonked her head against the sword slung over the warrior woman’s back.

  Still feeling unsteady and taking hold of her friend’s hips, Aerylln thought, Corson’s bottom feels as hard as a blacksmith’s anvil. Why would a woman need such powerful muscles?

  Aerylln felt her own bottom and thighs, and they were as soft as freshly baked bread. Maybe Corson suffers from some malady? Aerylln worried having always enjoyed curling up and resting her head on Mistress Xan’s lap, which was soft and comforting.

  I don’t understand, Aerylln thought. At Mistress Xan’s castle, there had always been plenty of workmen to handle any heavy lifting. Having firm muscles isn’t very ladylike, is it?

  But Aerylln shook off her confusion as she awakened to the sights and sounds of the village with shops lining both sides of the road and people bustling about.

  Suddenly, Aerylln became aware of a disturbance up ahead. A horse and rider were making their way roughly past some pedestrians knocking one down and kicking another aside. Looking annoyed and impatient, the rider was shouting, “Move! Make way!” And that’s what Aerylln did stepping quickly aside.

  However, in shock and horror, Aerylln noticed Corson was still in the middle of the road directly in the path of the oncoming horse and rider. Yet instead of retreating, the warrior woman calmly uncurled a whip she’d been carrying, hauled back her arm and lashed out catching the horse on the tip of its snout with a loud crack. More startled than injured, the animal reared up on its hind legs promptly dislodging its rider who fell to the ground with a resounding thump!

  As Aerylln rejoined her, the warrior woman stepped on the neck of the fallen man pushing hard with a surge of what Aerylln was learning were rather powerful legs. The teenage girl thought she heard something snap, but wasn’t sure giving her friend a confused look not knowing whether to feel horrified or relieved. Was another man dead so soon after the other?

  “You can’t run from a fight, little one, for if you do, some people will interpret it as weakness, and the world can be harsh to those who cower in fear,” Corson instructed.

  The warrior woman then abruptly headed towards one of the most tumbledown buildings on the street. As they approached, Aerylln noticed all the windows were dirty and one whole window was missing from the second floor. Or, that is to say, most of it was gone. The frame was shattered looking like something or someone had been thrown through it.

  Corson laughed and said, “It doesn’t look like much, but the food’s good, and they don’t mind a person having a good time.” She seemed positively jubilant, and Aerylln worried about that given her friend’s decidedly different sense of humor.

  Striding through the entrance, Corson tossed herself onto a chair like she was throwing herself onto a saddle. The chair had a broken back, but looking around, Aerylln noticed that none of them appeared to be undamaged. Her friend shoved one at her that seemed relatively intact, at least until she sat down and felt it wobble.

  Corson grabbed a waiter slamming him down onto a stool and telling him, “We want two steaks and make mine so rare that I can still taste the blood!” She shoved him away with a force that surprised Aerylln, as well as the waiter.

  Then she boomed, “Innkeeper, two flagons of your best bitter!” And Aerylln watched in amazement as the little, round man hurried to do Corson’s bidding.

  Their meal arrived so quickly that the teenage girl thought it must have been prepared with magic until she heard two men on the other side of the room protesting to the innkeeper that their meal had been served to Corson and Aerylln.

  The innkeeper smiled nervously as Corson attacked her meat. Red juices flowed down her chin and onto her breasts almost covering them, which was saying something given the size of her friend’s chest. Then she downed her ale in one swallow and looked hungrily at Aerylln’s, who was more than glad to shove the mug of foul smelling liquid towards her friend. But what bothered the young woman most was that everyone in the tavern was wearing a there-goes-the-neighborhood expression on their faces, and it wasn’t much of a neighborhood to begin with.

  Corson let out the biggest belch Aerylln had ever heard. She’d heard barnyard animals belch occasionally, but never this loudly. Her friend, the young woman was learning, was clearly in a league of her own. But the real awakening came from what Corson did next.

  “Behind you, those men at the table in the far corner have been pointing at us and laughing,” Aerylln said. “Maybe we should leave.”

  “Why?” />
  “They’re making me feel uncomfortable.”

  “Really? Well, we can’t have that,” Corson said

  pounding her fist on the table. Striding over to a half-dozen men, she said, “You’re upsetting my friend.”

  “Really?” one of them chuckled while eyeing Corson up and down.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” the warrior woman said while setting her staff against the bar and unsheathing her sword with one hand and a knife with the other. Instantly, the men were on their feet, but Corson surprised them by turning around, sticking her knife into a wooden post supporting the ceiling and swinging her sword with both hands sinking the blade into it as well.

  Now she was virtually an unarmed woman standing alone against six armed men, which in her view evened the odds. Then picking up her wooden staff, she faced the men and said, “I want you to apologize to that young woman.”

  “Seriously?” the first man asked, who seemed to be the leader.

  “Yes.”

  “And why would we do that?”

  With blinding speed, Corson swung her staff bringing it down hard on the tabletop and saying, “Because I’m through asking politely.”

  “I don’t know,” the leader said smiling a little less but still amused.

  “I won’t ask a second time.”

  The men stared at this woman armed with only a staff, then glanced around at each other, finding the situation totally ludicrous and burst into fits of uproarious laughter.

  “So, that’s your answer?” Corson asked firmly with an edge to her voice.

  “Yes,” the leader said, his smile broader than ever but feeling a little confused.

  “Then prepare to defend yourselves,” Corson purred.

  With reflexes and strength that stunned them all, the warrior woman hauled the man closest to her off his feet, using only one hand, and tossed him onto the long, wooden bar dragging him the length of it and driving his head against the wall knocking him unconscious.

  All the men were ready to fight, but none went for their swords, Corson being unarmed except for her staff and being a woman as well, although appearing to be anything but helpless.

  Striding rapidly back to the table, she held her staff horizontally with both hands and jammed one end into another man’s stomach doubling him over as he howled in pain. Two of his friends leapt at Corson, who neatly sidestepped them whacking each on the head with a staff moving so quickly it was a blur.

  “Okay, stop! All you want’s an apology?” the leader asked, no longer laughing.

  “Yep.”

  “Hey, young lady, we’re sorry if we upset you!” he shouted.

  Dumbfounded by what was happening, Aerylln didn’t know what to say.

  “Do you accept his apology, Aerylln?” Corson asked.

  “Yes,” the teenage girl croaked, barely able to speak.

  “Well, that’s settled,” Corson said smiling and patting the leader on the back. Then pulling her weapons from the wooden post, she sheathed her sword and knife, tossed a few coins on a table to pay for their meal and walked past Aerylln saying, “Come on, kid, let’s go.”

  Both confused and amazed, Aerylln followed her new friend outside leaving a group of rather shaken-up men behind them. But after walking only a short distance, another problem materialized when a horse and rider suddenly appeared out of nowhere galloping right at them. Pulling hard on the reins, the rider brought his horse to an abrupt halt, leapt from his saddle and drew his sword staring all the time at Corson.

  Aerylln realized her friend had also drawn her sword, and the two were headed for each other. The swords clashed as the two warriors battled, and it became evident that they were both very skilled. When they had their swords locked above each other, their bodies close, only inches apart, Aerylln saw Corson seductively lick her lips. While the man was distracted, she quickly disarmed him and knocked him to the ground.

  As he hit the dirt, she laughed and said, “You always did fall for that one, didn’t you?”

  The man dusted himself off as he rose, and Corson sheathed her sword.

  “You’d think I’d have learned wouldn’t you? I guess I still can’t resist you, can I?” he said.

  Corson shot him a lusty glance. “Why would you want to?” she purred.

  Aerylln was confused. What in the world’s going on? she wondered. They were fighting, but now they’re acting like friends.

  The confusion on her face must have been apparent because Corson chuckled and said, “Aerylln, I’d like you to meet Balder. We used to, er, ride together.”

  Balder laughed as well. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

  He approached Aerylln, bowed and said, “I’m pleased to meet you, young lady.” Next, Balder turned to Corson and said, “I think I should warn you. Chen’s terrorizing again.”

  “Well that explains a lot,” Corson replied. “I dealt with one of Chen’s men earlier.”

  “Ah, that explains the dead man with the horse running around him. For some reason, I thought that was your handiwork.”

  Walking over to his horse, Balder took it by the reins and said, “I’d best be getting back to my men. I need to drag them out of the tavern and back to camp.”

  “Oh, were those some of your men?”

  “Corson, you didn’t?” Balder asked in a stern tone of voice. When the warrior woman shrugged, he laughed and said, “I hope you didn’t scare them too much.”

  “Oh, I think they’ll be fine.”

  “But will I?” Balder asked. “That’s the pressing question on my mind. Well, goodbye Corson. Goodbye Aerylln. Perhaps we’ll all meet again soon.”

  Chapter 4

  When Balder went into the tavern, his men showed him where Corson’s sword had made a gash in the wooden support post. After running his fingers along it pensively, he went over to the front windows and watched her walking gracefully while packed tightly inside her leather pants.

  “Those breeches do seem a bit snug,” he said smiling at his men.

  Balder’s right-hand man, Kirtak, the one who’d offered Aerylln a formal apology, came over to him and said, “If she hadn’t beaten us so soundly, I might actually have enjoyed the fight.”

  “If she’d really cut loose, you’d be dead,” Balder said. “The last time she got mad at me, she swung her sword at my neck so hard she’d have cut my head off if I hadn’t ducked quickly.”

  All of Balder’s men gathered around him as he gazed out the window at the only woman he had ever truly loved.

  “What drives a woman to be so mean?” one of the men asked.

  “When she was little, she saw her family murdered right in front of her eyes,” Balder said sadly. “Sometimes sheer terror can drive a woman so far beyond the breaking point that she can never return to who she was. Corson has an intuitive insight into the human heart that only those who have gone to the brink of insanity can ever imagine.”

  “So, you’re saying Corson’s gone mad?” Kirtak asked.

  “No, it’s worse than that. If she had only gone insane, it wouldn’t have been so bad.”

  “What happened?”

  “Corson waited until she felt she was big enough and strong enough, but still barely ten years old, and she walked right into the home of the man who murdered her family . . .”

  “What did she do?”

  “You just ate dinner and, believe me, you don’t want to know,” Balder said. “Corson kills just to ease the pain that festers inside of her. For her, killing is medicinal. If she doesn’t get into a good scrap at least every few days, the memories get to be too much for her.”

  “What’s it like to make love to her?” one of his men asked, wincing when another warrior elbowed him in the ribs indicating that he shouldn’t be asking such a personal question. Balder’s men knew their leader’s relationship with Corson was, to say the least, complicated.

  “It’s great,” Balder said letting it go at that.

  Recalling the early days of
his relationship with Corson, Balder knew it had been difficult from the start. He thought, The first time, we were in her kitchen, and she put both arms around my neck and leaned back against the counter. I felt her open up to me inwardly, and it was as if I was looking at the charred remains of a building that had been gutted by fire. The smoke was thick and black. It poured out of her and into my soul flooding and suffocating me, and I pulled back while half-shouting that I was being overwhelmed. She ran to the door opening it for me so I could leave, but once she got away from me, I felt better.

  As their leader was silently reminiscing, Balder’s men shifted awkwardly wondering what was bothering him. Seeing him tensing up, the warriors figured that whatever he was remembering wasn’t very pleasant. And they were right.

  Balder was thinking, For the first few months, Corson was almost desperate for friendship and love. But at the same time, she was terrified feeling sure I’d hurt her. Her wounds ran so deeply that they seemed to split the wall between this world and the next, between the physical world and the spiritual world.

  All of Balder’s warriors, except for Kirtak, drifted over to the far table leaving their leader alone with his thoughts. Turning to his best friend, he said, “Corson doesn’t believe she can be killed. She believes she’s eternal. Not her body, but her spirit. And she believes the spirit world is more real than the physical world.”

  “Then, why doesn’t she let herself die in battle and be done with it all?” Kirtak asked.

  “Corson believes she can’t leave this earth until her god allows her to. There has to be a natural exit, and she must give her life to save that of another, or she has to wait till old age takes her.”

  “So, she’s trapped?”

  “Yes, trapped between two worlds and a caged animal can be unpredictable and dangerous.”

  “And we just fought her,” Kirtak said shocked over the danger they’d all been in.

  “She wouldn’t have hurt you seriously,” Balder said.

  “Why not?”

  “She was just defending Aerylln, and that’s the first time I’ve ever known Corson to have a maternal side. But if you see her again, I wouldn’t remind her about the fight.”