Lesbia Chronicles: Over Witch's Knee

by Ther Renard

  Thorberta laughed in Kira's face. "I am death on legs. I do not take orders."

  "I'll level with you," Kira said, coming within two arm lengths of Thorberta. "You are quite good, in fact, you're just good enough that I don't think I can stop you without hurting you. Do you know what that means?"

  "Nothing."

  "It means you need to put that knife down immediately, or you will be harmed." Kira's voice was solemn, her expression quite matter of fact. She did not have the fierce expression of a warrior who relishes the combat to come, but the weary eyes of one who has already seen too much blood and does not wish to see more.

  "Beg and maybe I will spare you," Thorberta declared. "But I will kill all these witches. Witches are for killings."

  Kira did not say another word. She moved, quickly, going for the knife yet again. She was not quick enough. Thorberta twisted the blade just as Kira grabbed her arm and the point of the knife cut along Kira's bicep, wounding her for a second time.

  A flesh wound was not enough to stop a warrior. As the knife cut, Kira pressed her fingers into Thorberta's neck with a hard jab. Thorberta's eyes rolled back and she dropped to the ground, caught just before she hit the dirt in Kira's arms.

  "Kira! You're bleeding!" Atrocious ran out of the house, her eyes wide with concern.

  "Grab some rope, quickly," Kira said, dragging Thorberta's ample frame towards the house. "Before she wakes up."

  Atrocious did Kira's bidding and before long Thorberta was bound more securely than ever. Satisfied that the assassin was secure, Kira stood and made to go indoors. She was stopped by Ayla's tall frame blocking the front door.

  "You're not coming in here like that," Ayla said, "you'll get blood on the rug."

  "So much for sympathy," Kira muttered, sitting back down on the outdoor bench. Ayla soon came outside with herbs and salves and bandages, which she applied liberally to Kira's wounds.

  "Two cuts from one girl,” Ayla noted.

  "She's not a girl," Kira growled with a dark look at Thorberta's still unconscious form. "She's a beast.”

  “Perhaps you should train more,” Ayla suggested.

  "A warrior of my experience does not need to train," Kira sniffed. "I've been fighting all my life."

  "And you were almost bested by that little lump," Ayla pointed out, just as Thorberta began to stir.

  "It's difficult to fight someone who wants to hurt you if you don't want to hurt them. I don't expect you to understand, you can just magic all your problems away. You don't have to bleed as I do."

  Ayla raised her brow slightly as she began wrapping bandaging around Kira's leg. "If you'd been quicker, you wouldn't have to bleed either."

  "Witchy is right," Thorberta agreed from the ground. "You're slow. Untie me."

  "You are tied up for your own good," Kira growled. "So I don't have to kill you."

  "Too scared to kill!" Thorberta laughed derisively. “What sort of warrior are you?”

  "The kind who is about to whip your hide," Kira said, reaching for the trussed up young woman. With Thorberta still tied, Kira yanked the assassin over her lap and pulled her pants down once more.

  Thorberta's howls of outrage and vicious threats filled the air as the warrior did her best to spank hard with her left hand. It was not an easy task and the slaps landed awkwardly. Fortunately Thorberta's bottom was a broad target and most of Kira's slaps found a satisfying conclusion.

  "Is this all you do?" Thorberta shouted behind her mask. "Ha! Pathetic!"

  "Kira," Ayla said, putting a calming hand on Kira's shoulder. "Stop."

  Kira slapped Thorberta again, putting all her strength into it and leaving a red palm print across Thorberta's left cheek. "I don't want to stop."

  "That's what I'm worried about."

  "Listen to what the witch says. Stop. You're pathetic."

  "Listen you little..." Kira dumped Thorberta onto the ground between her knees and yanked the fabric mask down. Her next words died on her lips. Thorberta's face was quite unusual. Her nose was normal enough, a small snub affair in the middle of her face. Her lips were normal, strictly speaking. What was not normal were the white canines that protruded out from under her upper lip and hung over the lower counterpart by half an inch.

  Ayla, Atrocious and Kira all stared, quite transfixed by the sight of the round faced little devil with the fangs.

  "What are you looking at?" The fangs flashed as Thorberta shouted at them. "Haven't you seen teeth before?"

  "Not like that," Atrocious said, quite forgetting to be polite. "Those are fangs."

  "Maybe I have fangs," Thorberta snapped back. "But you're ugly."

  Atrocious' eyes widened and she let out a slight sob, then turned and ran inside. Without another word, Ayla gathered the bowl and used cloths and followed Atrocious, leaving Kira to deal with the rude little wretch with the strange features.

  Kira sat back against the house, looking at Thorberta under hooded eyes. She did not speak, she simply looked.

  "What!?" Thorberta yelled, her hair flailing with the rough movements of her head. "What are you looking at? Paint pictures for longer lasting!"

  Kira leaned forward and spoke slowly and softly. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"

  "Beat me? Kill me? Do your worst." Thorberta's teeth flashed as she spat in anger.

  "Nothing. I'm going to do absolutely nothing to you." Kira stood up, reached down, grabbed a loop of the rope and dragged Thorberta into the house, where she dumped her prisoner into a kitchen chair.

  "Now," Kira said, employing an extra length of rope to secure Thorberta to the chair, "would you like some cake?"

  "Cake?"

  Thorberta's voice almost didn't sound like her own, for it was the first word she'd said in a non-menacing fashion. Her voice was softer, higher, much more hopeful.

  "You may have cake on one condition," Kira said. "That condition being that you do not kill anyone."

  "I won't kill anyone today if you give me cake," Thorberta bargained, a shrewd look on her round face.

  "No, that's not good enough. I'll need your assurances that you won't kill anyone for at least a month," Kira said, retrieving a slab of heavy chocolate cake from the nearby cupboard. At the sight of the treat, Thorberta licked her lips, just barely missing her fangs.

  "A week," she said, her eyes fixed on the cake.

  "Deal."

  Kira put the cake down on the table, drew her blade and cut Thorberta a wedge. Crisp icing formed a thick layer on the top of the slice, and in the middle a thick chocolate goo oozed gently. Kira handed the treat to Thorberta, who fell upon it with great vengeance and furious hunger whilst Atrocious peered around the corner of the kitchen and looked on in something of a daze.

  "Did you really just trade people's lives for cake?"

  "Shut it, ugly," Thorberta snapped, baring chocolate caked fangs and spitting crumbs with sudden vehemence.

  Atrocious' eyes narrowed for a second, then she burst into tears and ran out of the cottage.

  "You should not speak so harshly," Kira said, sitting down across the table as Thorberta sucked her fingers and stared hungrily at the remaining cake.

  Thorberta shrugged. "Serving wenches do not ask questions of betters."

  "Her betters being fanged assassins?"

  "Yes," Thorberta said. "Shedding of blood makes hierarchy. She is my bitch. You are my bitch too."

  Kira smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. It was a narrow eyed smile, more of a snarl really, as her lips lifted away to show bared teeth. "You have agreed not to kill anyone, but I haven't promised not to beat you if you deserve it."

  "I didn't promise not to maiming either," Thorberta replied, her eyes fixed on the remaining cake. "More."

  Kira pushed the cake away and sat at the table. "You make one more threat, and you'll regret it, I promise it."

  "Then I will do. Better that way. Elements of surprising." Thorberta gave Kira a patented hard look, one designed to intimidate. Kira was n
ot impressed.

  "If you want more cake, you must promise to be nice and kind."

  "Nice? Kind!" Thorberta laughed. "Not nice or kind."

  "You will have to be nice and kind if you want anything to eat or drink.”

  "I'll just take what I want."

  "No, you won't."

  "You can't stop me."

  "Oh but I can."

  Thorberta and Kira stared one another down with hard glares. "I can do many things," Thorberta said in an ice soft voice. "Very, very bad things. All the worst things."

  Kira nodded. "And you cannot begin to imagine what I'm capable of making you feel. Because I know what you are, girl. I know what you are underneath the rage and the threats. I know what you are in those quiet moments when you think nobody is looking."

  For a moment, Thorberta looked unsure of herself. "Shut up."

  "I know what you're truly afraid of," Kira continued, her voice becoming almost whisper soft. "And if you test me, I'll make sure everybody sees the frightened little wretch you really are."

  Thorberta tried for an arrogant smile, but her face contorted with conflicting emotion. "Shut up," she said, her voice hoarse.

  "I know why you like to make Atrocious cry," Kira said, pressing on relentlessly. "You envy her the pain, don't you? What must it be like to be able to show that much vulnerability? Can you even begin to imagine? Can you imagine what it would be like to be weak and not be attacked for it?" Kira gave her a pitying look. "You can't can you?"

  "SHUT UP!" Thorberta screamed the words, slamming her fists down on the table so hard it made the cake platter dance a dangerous jiggle. "Give me fucking cake."

  At that moment of perfect tension, when walls were cracking and perhaps poised to crumble, Atrocious walked back into the cottage. Her eyes were red, but dry. "I'd just like to say," she said, keeping a careful distance between herself and Thorberta, "that you're a complete bitch."

  "You see? She gets it," Thorberta said to Kira.

  "Atrocious gets very little," Kira replied, frustration evident in her voice. "I wouldn't put too much stock in her opinion."

  "I get very little? I got your pussy," Atrocious snapped back snidely. "And Ayla's. And Rogette's." She turned her gaze to Thorberta. "I suppose it's only a matter of time before I get yours too."

  Thorberta spluttered and turned bright red, her face turning almost as red as her hair. "Rude! Rude speakings!"

  A wolfish grin spread over Atrocious' face as she got wind of an upper hand in the offing. "So you can kill people, but mention fucking them and you get all shy?"

  "Servant has a gutter mouth," Thorberta protested. "Putting me off my cake."

  "Maybe you should try eating cunt instead of cake," Atrocious said, putting a deliberate hard intonation on the consonants to make them as coarse as possible.

  Thorberta put her hands over her ears as Kira rose from the table and strode across the room to take Atrocious by the hand.

  "That's quite enough of that."

  "Is it?" Atrocious smirked. "She needs to get laid. She's so repressed she wants to kill people. I thought I had problems but she's..." Atrocious shook her head. "Wow, she's a fucking nut-bag - without the fucking."

  "Thank you for your considered opinion," Kira said, pulling Atrocious close and swatting her bottom. "Now go upstairs and help Ayla."

  "I bet her pussy tastes like icing," Atrocious said, ignoring Kira's orders in favor of stirring the situation a little more. A strangled sound emanated from Thorberta, which made Atrocious grin very mischievously.

  "Stop it," Kira growled.

  "I guess you don't like to be reminded of that either, huh?" Having found her backbone, Atrocious was not backing down. She tossed her braids back and stared Kira in the eye. "Remember the night we made love? Remember how much you wanted me?" Her lip curled. "I'm starting to think all you warrior types are a bit fucked in the head," she said. "You're big and muscly, but you're emotional runts."

  "Get upstairs," Kira snarled. "Last chance before I whip you."

  Chapter Twenty

  Atrocious tramped up the stairs and banged her way through the door to Ayla's room. She found the witch peacefully sitting on her bed in the warm rays of the afternoon sun, knitting what looked to be a small pair of socks.

  "I don't like that fanged lady," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling furiously.

  Ayla looked up from her knitting and enveloped Atrocious in her calm crystal green gaze. "Then you and she have something in common."

  With that one sentence, Atrocious felt her anger fade to be replaced by a deep pity. It did not make her feel better, if anything it hurt a little more. She lowered her head and scraped her feet against the floor as she walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "Why does everybody have to be so mean? Why do people always have to hurt one another?" She laid back and looked up at the vaulted ceiling. "I remember my mother telling me about the eight year war when I was a girl. She told me about all the people who got killed. All the villages that got burned. All the bad things that people did to one another. Do you know what I thought then?"

  "Do tell," Ayla said, putting her knitting in her lap and giving Atrocious her full attention.

  "I thought it was sad, but I was glad too, because I thought it was in the past. I thought that now we knew how bad it is to hurt people, we would never do it again. But we do it all the time. I don't think we'll ever stop doing it." She sniffed as her nose began to run, feeling quite embarrassed at the emotion rising in her.

  "Come here," Ayla said, extending her arms toward Atrocious. When Atrocious did not move, Ayla reached out and drew the young woman into a tender embrace. Atrocious breathed deeply, calming as Ayla's unmistakably sweet scent filled her nostrils. "It is hard to be sensitive to the pain of others," Ayla said. "It means feeling a pain that never seems to end."

  "Then I don't want to be sensitive," Atrocious muttered against Ayla's bosom.

  "That comes with a price too," Ayla replied. "It makes the world flat and gray. It removes the pain, but it removes the joy too - and the meaning, and ultimately, the love."

  Atrocious sniffed again, then looked up at Ayla. "How did you get so wise?"

  "Time," Ayla said, smiling down and planting a gentle kiss on Atrocious' lips. "A great deal of time."

  The sweet moment was broken by the sound of an ungodly clattering from downstairs. It sounded as though two armies were clashing in the kitchen, so loud were the shouts, so clearly could the sounds of crashing steel and smashing cookware be heard.

  Cuddled up in Ayla's arms, Atrocious looked up at the witch. Ayla did not seem concerned by, or interested in the commotion. "Aren't you going to do something about that?"

  "About what?"

  She was cut off by another loud series of clashes and bangs, and by the sound of what sounded like an entire cabinet of china being tipped over and danced on.

  "About that!" Atrocious gestured towards the floor.

  "Oh, that, no," Ayla replied with a seraphic smile. "Best to let them get it out."

  The entire house shuddered as someone or something went crashing into a wall below.

  "They'll tear this place apart!" Atrocious' brow creased with worry.

  "Perhaps, but there are other houses," Ayla said, drawing her arms more tightly about Atrocious' waist.

  "There might be many houses, but this one is yours," Atrocious pointed out, snuggling whilst she argued for the good of the cottage.

  There was another loud series of shouts and house shaking impacts, then all suddenly fell silent. Completely silent.

  "Now we should be worried," Ayla said, sitting up and sliding Atrocious off her lap.

  "FOR CAKKKKKEEE!" A ferocious war cry went up from below, delivered in a booming feminine voice that made the shutters on the windows rattle.

  Changing her mind, Ayla snatched Atrocious back onto the bed and pulled the comforter over the both of them so that they were caught in a cocoon of softness.


  "Never mind," she murmured into Atrocious' confused ear. "They sound like they have it under control."

  ~~~

  A couple of hours later, when Atrocious was gently snoring in the bed beside her, Ayla risked going downstairs. To her great surprise, the house was not completely destroyed. It was actually spotlessly tidy. Every single piece of furniture was in its place, albeit splinted in some places. The floor had been swabbed and swept clean. Kira and Thorberta sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table, both carefully gluing together ornaments that had clearly been damaged in their domestic battle.

  If anything looked worse for wear, it was the two fighters. Thorberta's sleeve had been ripped clean off and she had several bandages on her chubby arm. There were abrasions and some light bruises on her face too. But it was Kira whose nose was crooked, whose left eye was swelling and whose gaze seemed foggy as she focused on the teapot she was gluing together with furious concentration.

  "Kira..."

  "I'm sorry about the mess," Kira said, speaking through tight, swollen lips.

  "I'm not worried about the mess," Ayla said as she walked forward and placed two fingertips gently under Kira's chin. "Your face needs some serious attention."

  Thorberta snorted with dark laughter, as if she'd made a joke. Kira's sharp and malevolent look made her fall silent almost immediately.

  "Come with me," Ayla said. It was a command, but a gentle one and Kira obeyed it. They left the cottage and took refuge in the herbalist's shop. The herbalist, a kindly woman with winter white hair and cherry red cheeks welcomed them in and made sympathetic noises upon seeing Kira's injuries. Kira immediately withdrew from her kindness and sat outside until Ayla had gathered what she needed and joined her on the little bench to patch her up for the second time that day.

  "It looks like..."

  "You don't need to say it," Kira snapped. "I know, she got the best of me."

  Ayla's brows creased with concern. There was a weight to Kira's words, a palpable melancholy. But she was stoic as ever, barely wincing when Ayla reset her nose with a sharp tweak that made tears spring to her brave brown eyes. They ran down her face, trickling over the little freckled dots that still graced her cheeks if one looked closely enough. Sometimes when Ayla looked at Kira, she could still see the young warrior standing at the precipice of life and death, full of bravery and strength and unending potential. But when Kira winced and her eyes closed momentarily, little crows' feet lines extending like webs across the once smooth skin, Ayla was reminded that the young warrior she had once known was many years hence.