by R A Oakes
“Yes,” Marcheto said.
The young man didn’t know what else to say. Violence was all he had ever known. He, his older brothers and his father trained in the arts of war every day. “A warrior needs to stay sharp.”
“What do you mean by sharp?” Aerylln asked. She’d never had a serious conversation before with a young man her own age, Marcheto being only two years older. She felt a closeness to Marcheto and opened her heart and mind up to him.
“During combat, all of one’s senses are heightened.
Ordinary, day-to-day perceptions of reality simply collapse and are no longer relevant. You can actually feel your opponent’s energy,” the young warrior explained. “If you lose your edge for even a moment, you’ll end up on the ground like one of those lifeless bodies.”
“How can you take the life of another person?” Aerylln asked. She hoped she didn’t sound too naïve. It was a serious question for the teenage girl, and she hoped he had an answer.
“You kill without killing,” Marcheto said simply.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, a swordsman practices for hundreds of hours. He’ll go over the same maneuver a thousand times. When he encounters it in battle, he doesn’t need to think about what to do. He just does it.”
“He’s not aware that he’s killing?”
“Not really and during training a true warrior will practice doing nothing. Thus in battle, he does nothing and becomes victorious!”
“You’re kidding me?” Aerylln laughed.
“No, really, I mean it,” Marcheto laughed along with her.
"Try explaining yourself in a way that makes sense,” the young woman said as she continued to smile.
“Do you knit? Can you make sweaters and thick socks from yarn?”
“Can you?” Aerylln challenged.
“Yes!” Marcheto said proudly.
“Doesn’t your mother do all that for you?” she needled him.
“My mother’s dead. My brothers and I make our own clothes.”
Aerylln was appalled with herself for being so tactless. “I’m sorry to hear that about your mother. How did she die?”
“Violently. Both she and my only sister,” Marcheto said, then he angrily shoved the thought aside in his mind. “But my point is, do you think about moving the needles while you are knitting?”
“No, I just do it.”
“Precisely,” Marcheto said. “A warrior does the same thing with a sword. At least he does it that way if he wants to stay alive.”
“What if you’re fighting a warrior who has practiced a move you’re unfamiliar with, one that’s not ingrained in you?”
“You catch on quickly, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I like that. I’ve never met a woman like you before. There’s a lot going on inside of you isn’t there? Thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams?”
“Yes. You catch on quickly, too, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he laughed.
“Why are people so violent?” Aerylln asked becoming serious once more.
“Our spirits are too vast for our bodies and for the physical environment we live in. People kill to give themselves more space so they don’t feel so cramped,” Marcheto said, surprised that he even had a response to such a question.
“Are you saying that the more people kill, the more spiritually whole they become?” Aerylln asked.
“Yes and no,” Marcheto said. “Killing can fill a person for a while, but taking life is like a drug. The more you take the more you need to get the same high.”
“I’m aware that medicines are called drugs, but I’m not aware of any that cause the response you’re talking about,” Aerylln said.
“I’m talking about an addiction,” the young man tried to explain.
“I have an addiction to daydreaming. At least that’s what Mistress Xan always told me,” Aerylln said.
“This is a bit worse than that.”
Aerylln blushed and felt foolish. She knew she didn’t have enough knowledge to really continue the conversation and wondered, “How can I learn about anything without sounding foolish at first?”
“It’s better to be a fool than to be dead,” Marcheto answered.
Aerylln was surprised. She didn’t realize she had spoken her last thought out loud. “Then you don’t mind if I keep quizzing you?”
“As long as you allow me to make a fool of myself during our next conversation without thinking less of me as a person. I’ll be having plenty of seemingly dumb questions myself.”
“Do you think we’ll continue to talk openly to each other like this?” Aerylln asked.
“Yes, I do. I’m enjoying myself.”
“So am I,” the teenage girl said blushing again. She liked this young man and let her shoulder bump up against his. Aerylln recalled how she had tried to kill him when she’d first seen him. But that was all Marcheto’s fault, she told herself.
“My trying to kill you was all your fault,” Aerylln said out loud speaking her thoughts again, but this time conscious of doing it.
“I realize that. I’m sorry,” he said with sincerity.
Aerylln liked him even more now. Two apologies from this young man in one week, it was a heady experience. She stumbled, and her breasts pressed against his arm. Marcheto froze.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Marcheto said taking a step away from her.
“If nothing’s wrong, then why are you so far away?”
“I’m not far away,” Marcheto protested.
“You’re not walking as close to me as you were.”
“You’ll think I’m dumb if I tell you about it.”
“Oh, good!” she laughed. “It’s your turn to feel stupid!”
“I had a bad experience recently,” he said, and this time he blushed. Aerylln was watching his face when he turned red. She loved it!
“Tell me about it,” the teenage girl said sympathetically. She sensed that things were about to get really interesting.
“I’m not as good in bed as I used to be!” he blurted out. “There, I’ve said it!”
Aerylln looked at him in astonishment! “You aren’t good in bed?”
“No,” Marcheto said as he hung his head.
“What do you do? Do you take food to your chambers and eat in bed and get the sheets all messy? Or can’t you sleep very well? I’m sorry if you’re having a hard time sleeping. That happens to me sometimes,” Aerylln said trying to empathize with his situation.
“You’re making fun of me!” Marcheto said angrily, and he walked away from her.
“No! No!” she pleaded. “I wasn’t making fun of you!”
Aerylln liked this young man, and now he was upset with her. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong and began to cry.
Marcheto looked back at her cautiously. He thought that surely her tears must be false. He knew enough about women to know that they used tears to manipulate men. He understood weapons of war. Tears were deadly.
The young man walked back to Aerylln and looked at her carefully. Tears were streaming down her face. “Hey, it’s okay if you make fun of me. I’m not angry with you.”
“I wasn’t trying to make fun of you,” the young woman said between sobs.
“Well, you made that joke about sex and bed sheets,” Marcheto said in an accusatory tone of voice.
“I never talked about sex,” Aerylln said as she continued crying.
“Yes, you did. I opened up to you, telling you how I’m not as good at sex as I used to be, and you started making fun of me!”
“What are you talking about? I told you how I sometimes don’t get all the rest I need when I’m worried. What were you talking about?”
Marcheto was astounded. Lord Daegal had said something about Aerylln being a virgin, but the young man had eventually decided that the warlord didn’t mean to be taken literally.
Marcheto continued to look at Aerylln with wide-eyed
wonder. He’d never really known a virgin before, at least not a girl who’d stayed one for long when he was with her.
“Are you a virgin?” he blurted out.
“How dare you ask me such a question?” she shouted.
He didn’t know what to say. He looked at her differently now as if she were some rarity, which, in his world, she would have been. He thought, She actually is a virgin!
Quickly, Marcheto tried to contain the damage.
“My lady, I meant no offense,” he said as he bowed to her. “I’m so vulgar and crude. However, I promise never to talk about such a topic again.”
Aerylln looked at him to see if this time he was mocking her. But he held his bow and it had been so sweeping and graceful. She began to feel reassured and then began to feel safe again.
“You don’t have to go that far,” she told him. “Just be careful to clarify what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, my lady,” he said with all sincerity as he continued bowing to her.
Aerylln had never seen anything like this, and she loved it!
All of a sudden, her fears and worries burst forth, and she said, “I’m sorry, as well. I’m such a mess. I was asked to leave the only home I’ve ever known, and things have been totally chaotic ever since.”
Marcheto said nothing. He just listened with an open heart.
“I’m traveling with a magic horse and sword, an old wizard and Corson. And well, Corson, she’s the most confusing person I’ve ever met. However, I like her and trust her. But I’ve heard them talking about how I’m an heiress to some sort of matriarchal lineage. It’s all very frightening.”
Marcheto held her in his arms and listened to her sobbing against his chest. He’d never experienced anything more intimate in his entire life. Sex he knew about, but intimacy? He was as unfamiliar with that as Aerylln was about sex.
I like intimacy, he told himself.
The truth was he loved it.
“Hey, we really should be heading back to camp, but we can talk again later,” Marcheto said in a soft tone.
“You still want to know me? Won’t you be embarrassed to be seen with a weepy girl who’s unschooled in the ways of the world?”
“Aerylln, you’re the finest woman I’ve ever known,” he said, and he meant it. Every word.
Placing a reassuring hand on each of her shoulders, Marcheto leaned down and kissed her wet cheeks. Feeling tentative and uncertain, he kissed her neck, nose, closed eyelids and brushed his lips gently against hers. Pulling back a little, he stroked her cheek and neck with the tips of his fingers, looked into her eyes and allowed the moment to linger. Marcheto had never given so much of himself to a woman with just a glance, and he felt his soul opening up to hers.
Now, it was Marcheto’s turn to be nervous. His mouth was dry, his heart was beating rapidly, and, unconsciously, he was holding his breath.
“It’s okay,” Aerylln whispered placing one hand behind his neck and running her fingers through his hair.
Feeling Aerylln’s touch against his scalp was electrifying. It was a caress from someone warm, sensitive and sincere. Marcheto almost fainted from the sheer excitement of drinking in such a meaningful experience.
Pulling back a little, he gasped and said, “My head’s spinning.”
“Mine, too.”
“I can barely breathe.”
Looking up into his eyes, Aerylln realized he was telling the truth, and then she smiled and asked, “Am I too much for you?”
“I’ve never had anything like this before.”
“Neither have I.”
Smiling, they kissed again feeling a little less tentative.
After the kiss was over, Aerylln licked her lips and dried her eyes. Putting a protective arm around the young woman’s shoulder, Marcheto walked her back to camp. When they returned, several of Balder’s men looked up and smirked. Nudging each other, they laughed a bit while looking at Aerylln.
One of the men began walking towards the pretty, blond girl. He smiled at the young warrior standing with her and thought, More than one man can put his arm around her.
Marcheto’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, and he took a step away from Aerylln. “Stay here,” he said with a sense of urgency. “Please!”
He unsheathed his sword and faced the man who was approaching. At first the older warrior thought Marcheto was joking, but then he looked at the young man’s eyes. Death was waiting for him there.
The older warrior put both of his hands up in the air with his open palms facing Marcheto. “Sorry, my mistake,” he said sincerely and walked back to the others.
Kirtak, who was Balder’s second-in-command, took all of this in and his estimation of Marcheto went way up. He thought, That boy has steel in his spine.
“Okay, everyone, let’s break camp,” Kirtak said. “I was over on the other side of the stream a few minutes ago, and it looks like Balder and Corson are getting ready to move out.” He took one more look at Marcheto and thought, Never underestimate the quiet ones.
Chapter 15
On the other side of the stream, Corson and Balder were sitting together leaning against the trunk of a fallen tree when a group of horsemen rode past them. Corson’s hand went for the hilt of her sword, but Balder put his hand gently on hers silently asking her not to unsheathe her weapon.
“We don’t even know who they are yet. They may be no danger to us,” Balder whispered.
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Sometimes a display of trust can deflect hostilities,” Balder said.
“The only warrior I trust is a dead one,” she said sternly.
“Please, let me handle this,” he pleaded.
Corson glared at him.
“Sweetheart, if they kill me, you can slaughter the whole group.”
Corson kissed him and smiled.
“Well, you don’t have to be that happy about it,” he said in an annoyed tone of voice. Looking back over at the warriors, they saw a horse-drawn wagon trailing the riders. It was hauling three coffins.
The driver of the wagon glanced over in Corson and Balder’s direction letting out a cry of surprise. Some of the horsemen turned, looked over their shoulders and saw what had alarmed the driver. A beautiful woman, who was almost as big and sturdy as the man next to her, was sitting with her legs spread having one leg laying on the ground and one knee up. No one took notice of Balder’s sitting position.
Seeing the hungry looks on their faces, Corson spread her legs a little wider. Most of the men had stopped, but those who hadn’t found themselves riding into the horses in front of them. Not realizing what was going on, they saw their friends staring at something and understood immediately when they turned and saw Corson. At that point, everyone forgot where he was or where he’d been heading.
Corson brushed some dust off her thighs, and the men groaned, but Balder doubted that there had been any dust on her leather pants and almost laughed. As he looked at the men gaping at his partner, he thought, Is there anything that cuts as sharply as a woman’s beauty? It’s quicker and deadlier than any sword.
One of the older warriors was the first to snap out of it and shouted, “We have three bodies in those coffins due to this very same thing. Haven’t any of you learned anything from Chen’s cutting down three of our own at The Rock a few days ago?
“When you’re around a woman, you’d better watch her sword arm at all times and try to determine if she has a knife on her,” the older warrior said spelling it out for the younger men. “Her beauty won’t kill you, unless you’re mesmerized by it while she slits your throat. And we saw that happen recently, didn’t we?”
At the mention of Chen’s name, Balder slowly stood up raising his hands with palms wide open to show he wasn’t holding a weapon and approached the older warrior. After introducing himself and learning that the older man’s name was Dartuke, Balder explained his own run-in with Chen and how he’d lost several good men.
“She’s unnatur
al, that one is,” Dartuke declared. “There’s something cunningly evil about her.”
“Where are you from?” Balder asked.
“About a week’s ride to the west, but the way things are going back home, I don’t know how much longer we can survive.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Neighbors further west have been raiding our settlements.”
“What’s the reason behind it?”
“Lord Daegal has warriors stationed at a garrison about a half-day’s ride from us. They’re attacking outlying areas ransacking towns and villages and taking plunder back to The Rock. When the western tribes retaliate, we don’t have enough warriors to defend ourselves because Lord Daegal keeps drafting our best young men into his army.”
“Why not arm your women?” Corson asked him.
“Well, there’s a novel idea,” Dartuke said scornfully.
“I can make it a lot less novel for you,” Corson said
inching her sword out of its scabbard. Immediately, two archers in Dartuke’s group drew their bows leveling them at Corson who didn’t so much as flinch.
Balder stepped between Corson and the archers saying, “My friend won’t tolerate men making light of women.”
“I meant no offence, but warrior women are extremely rare.”
“If men took the time to teach women how to fight, you’d see more of them,” Corson hissed.
“True, true,” Dartuke said in a calming voice. “But teach them how? Developing an effective training program that helps women overcome their size disadvantage is a mystery to me.”
“Not to me,” Corson glowered.
“Really?” Dartuke asked perking up. “Maybe this is the solution we’ve been looking for. Would you consider going home with us and setting up a training program? But, honestly, do you really think women can be taught to fight?”
“Chen killed three of your men, didn’t she? I’d say she could fight.”
Dartuke and the male warriors around him shifted uneasily in their saddles. Chen’s ability with a sword unnerved them. These men were the nobles who’d attended the council meeting in Lord Daegal’s great room when Chen performed her ballet of violence.