VirtualWarrior

by Ann Lawrence

  “Regardless,” Ralen continued. “I see little need to seek the potion with the goddess. If she has it, we will never find it. No surprise visit will reveal it, nor any amount of persuasion. I was as thorough as possible with her.”

  Samoht nodded. “I like it.” He spoke as if Ralen had said nothing. “Should Ardra find and return the potion, she will have proved herself worthy. A marvelous plan.”

  One of the Red Rose warriors entered the tent. He was dusty and carried a leather pouch.

  “Ah, you come from Boda?” Samoht asked.

  “She is his Selaw mate,” Ardra whispered at Lien’s ear. The messenger handed Samoht a rolled document, then hurried away. Samoht unrolled the lengthy parchment, scanned it, then frowned. He turned to Ardra. “I wish you to take up the challenge. If you do not, we will proceed as I decree.”

  Before anyone could make a further objection, Ardra bowed. “I accept the challenge.”

  Chapter Eight

  Samoht dismissed everyone except Ardra. Although Ralen didn’t seem concerned that Ardra was alone in Samoht’s tent, Lien felt uneasy.

  Ardra had been too quick to accept Samoht’s challenge. Lien wished she had waited. The whole thing looked suspect to him.

  He hobbled along with his stick in case anyone was watching. Where should he go? He headed for the tent with the puffy clouds. It was dimly lighted by a wick floating in oil.

  A pitcher of hot water sat in a brazier. The soap and towels on the table were a subtle hint that someone ought to wash up.

  Lien stripped off his tunic. As he unwrapped the bandages on his arm and shoulder, he marveled at the fresh, healed skin. He carefully tucked the leaf Ardra had given him into his boot.

  Before the water could cool, he scrubbed the travel dust from his skin. He plunged his tunic into the water as well, soaped it several times, and wrung it out.

  Outside, he draped the linen shirt over one of the ropes that held down the tent. He stared toward Samoht’s tent. What was going on in there?

  It was too cold to remain outside half dressed, so he fetched the fur-lined cloak. It must be about three o’clock in the morning, he guessed.

  He wondered about Ardra’s decision. It wouldn’t have been his. She might rush toward responsibility, but he, personally, would run in the opposite direction, kid or no kid.

  Samoht’s tent flap opened, and Ardra shot out like a bullet fired from a gun. After several steps, she slowed to a walk, her chin up, her shoulders back. She came directly toward him.

  He slipped into the tent to wait for her. She threw the flap back but didn’t see him. She went to the table, planted her hands on the cloth, and bowed her head. Her shoulders shook. The back of her gown was half unlaced.

  It was too late to disappear, and disrespectful to hide his presence. “Ardra,” he said softly.

  She whipped around. “Lien.” Her face shone with tears.

  In the next second, she was in his arms. She burrowed inside his cloak, her wet face hot on his chest. He closed his arms around her and held his breath. Her body trembled against him.

  “What happened?” He tipped her face up. “Tell me.”

  She shook her head. He slid his hands down to her shoulders and walked her backward to the couch, then sat her on the edge.

  “He attacked you, didn’t he?” He didn’t wait for an answer, charging out of the tent.

  She ran after him through the camp, grabbing for his cloak. “Do not, Lien, I beg of you, please.”

  Something in her voice made him stop. He rounded on her. She looked up at him and shook her head. “Please. Not here,” she whispered. She tugged gently on his cloak. “I beg of you.”

  He jerked his cloak from her grasp and turned back to her tent. Once inside, he threw off the cloak and pointed his finger at her. “Don’t ever beg.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide.

  “Forget the roses and my tattoo for a moment and trust me. What happened?”

  “He tried to kiss me.” She didn’t meet his eyes.

  “Fine, let’s assume he only kissed you. Then why the tears? And who unlaced your dress? How can you let that slime get away with—”

  “Stop. Let me explain.” She stood up straight, her chin in the air. “Samoht tried to embrace me, aye, I will not deny that. But to have you storm in on him and take up my battle will not do me any good. He will see me as weak, hiding behind a man’s strength.”

  “So nothing happens to the bastard?” He shook his head.

  “I will take care of him in my time, in my way.”

  Lien cupped her face in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”

  She looked away, and he knew she was going to lie. “Only my dignity.”

  He skimmed his thumbs over her cheeks, dry now. “Ardra, you can’t let men maul you and get away with it.”

  Did she move first or did he? Her lips were warm, full, moist. She tasted of wine. She placed her hands on his chest and kneaded his skin like a kitten kneads a soft blanket.

  He whispered against her mouth, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” Then he thrust his hands into her hair and held her head while he ran his tongue over hers—again and again.

  Each squeeze of his fingers in her silky mane released the scent of flowers—foreign, seductive, enticing flowers.

  She ran her hands up and down his chest and made a throaty sound. It jerked him out of the moment.

  “Ardra. Damn.” He gently set her aside. Her lips were puffy, her eyes dazed. “We can’t do this.”

  Then she smiled and touched her fingertips to her mouth. “Do not fret, Lien. It will not happen again.”

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “Oh, ‘tis just that I have discovered why he did it.” She walked briskly to the table, peered into the pitcher, frowned, and rounded on Lien. “You used my water?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. What do you mean, you discovered why he did it? Who? Discovered what?”

  “You look tired.” Ardra tipped her head back and examined him. He rubbed his chest, and her eyes followed his hand. He dropped it to his side.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Stop staring at me.”

  She lifted the pitcher and held it tightly against her chest. “Forgive me, Lien. I will answer your question. I smiled because I learned something from you I never knew…that a kiss can be sweet.” She ducked her head. “And I imagine there is little sweetness in Samoht’s life.”

  Lien lifted her chin on the edge of his hand. “Ardra. You need to understand something. A kiss between two people who want to kiss is far different from a kiss between two people when one is unwilling. What Samoht did was wrong.”

  “I have found that men believe it their right to copulate whenever it suits them.”

  “Look, Ardra, I can’t speak for Tolemac men, but where I come from, sex is consensual or it’s a crime.”

  “Sex? Crime?” She tipped her head.

  “Sex—copulation. Crime—offense for which you get punished publicly.”

  “Oh.” She sighed over the empty pitcher. “Can we speak of this at another time? I am sure that Samoht is plotting something as we speak, and I need my sleep.”

  If she wanted to change the subject, who was he to persist? “I think Einalem’s compromise sounded a bit—”

  “Preplanned? Most likely. If I die as a result of my quest, Samoht will claim guardianship of my son and the fortress.”

  “You don’t seem too concerned,” Lien said.

  “Perhaps I am too tired to feel concern.”

  He took the pitcher from her and placed it on the table. When he turned around, she was curled on the couch. “You look too young to rule a fortress.” Before he could clamp his tongue on the words, they were out of his mouth.

  She was off the bed in an instant. She shook her finger in his face. “How dare you! I have commanded men far better than you for the last three conjunctions. I have decided the fate of hundreds of miners, seen to their families, buried their dead. And I can take
care of myself. Samoht will not sit well in the saddle for several days.” She snapped her fingers in his face.

  Lien wrapped his fingers around her wrist and smiled. “So, you put a knee in Samoht’s gonads, did you?” He bent his head and kissed her fingers.

  “Gonads?”

  “I think you know what I mean.”

  She smiled back. “It was not my knee. I used the end of a candle stand. It was made of iron.”

  He kissed her fingers again. “Good girl.”

  Her hand flexed, but she didn’t pull away. “Do not call me girl. Can we do it again?”

  “What?”

  “Kiss.” She slid her other hand around the nape of his neck.

  She had a child but seemed as innocent as a virgin. “You do know that kisses lead to other things.”

  Her hand fell from his neck, and she tucked it behind her back.

  Lien went outside for his tunic. It was only partially dry from the whipping wind, but he needed the protection from her heated gaze.

  She raked him critically after he’d belted the tunic in place. “Who washed it for you?”

  “I did it myself. Just call me laundry man.”

  “Men do not do laundry.” She clapped her hands over her face and laughed.

  Her laughter had a manic quality that told him she was way past exhausted. “Look, you need your sleep.”

  She knelt on the couch, tucking her skirts around her feet. “Aye, but you must leave. It would not do for anyone to think we were copulating here.”

  “Now you’re worried. Sure, Ardra. Just use me and toss me aside,” he said, but he smiled to let her know he was kidding.

  She snapped her fingers. “Tell Ollach I need fresh water.”

  He decided there was nothing behind her kiss except a need to wipe out the one that Samoht had forced upon her.

  She snapped her fingers again. “Lien, are you listening? Please tell Ollach I need fresh water.”

  “I forgot to tell you something about finger snapping. Where I come from, it means you want to have sex—you know, copulate.” Her eyes widened. “If you snap them like this,” he snapped his fingers twice, quickly, “it means you want the man right now.”

  Her mouth formed an O. Lien snatched up his cloak and left the tent. He figured she’d never snap her fingers at him again.

  Sleep eluded Ardra. The taste and feel of Lien’s mouth ensured that she might not sleep for many moon-risings. Nay, it was not his mouth, although it was a lovely mouth. It was his dark eyes…the way they had slowly closed, his black lashes settling on his cheeks. Should she have closed her eyes too? She knew nothing of kissing.

  Kissing led to other things.

  Tol had not kissed, and Samoht’s kiss was rough and wet. Lien’s were like wine—intoxicating.

  Where did Lien sleep? Was he cold?

  Nay, his skin was very warm, as if he had a brazier and coals inside him. She imagined what it would be like to lie with him, skin to skin, and look at him from head to toe. A pulsing sensation in her belly made her shift uncomfortably on the bed couch. She already knew what he looked like head to toe.

  She must forget him. He was a pilgrim, and she had tempted him from his vow of celibacy. ‘Twas a shameful thing.

  Despite his vows, he had kissed her back and wanted her. “By Nilrem’s knees,” she swore, and clapped her hands over her eyes to block the memory of Lien’s desire from her mind. It was not so easily banished.

  “He did desire me,” she whispered. She knew it just as she had known that Samoht wanted to copulate with her. Deleh had told her that men were easily understood. If they put their hips against you and they were hard, they wanted you. If not, they didn’t.

  She tossed off the furs and coverlet and allowed the chilly air to bathe her sweaty skin. How could she have such thoughts when she must see Tol on his final journey?

  “Oh, Tol, I shall miss you sorely.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. She must shed them here, else Samoht or Ralen might think her a weakling. She thought of Deleh. Tol had been Deleh’s life. Little good fortune came to concubines of her age. The fortress could remain her home, but even though she had never complained, Ardra knew that Deleh hated the ice.

  “I wish I might have known such a love as theirs.” More tears ran down Ardra’s face, but as she dashed them away, she acknowledged they were for herself, not Tol.

  Ardra closed her eyes again. The sight of Lien lying naked on Nilrem’s mountain came to her mind again. She flipped her pillow over and buried her face in its cool surface. How terrible to imagine a man as he lay helpless with blood on his skin.

  But she could not help it. Liquid heat coursed through Ardra’s body. Would this strange sensation never stop?

  “Ardra, are you awake?” The small girl who stood at the tent flap held a pitcher nearly as large as she.

  Ardra leaped from the bed. “Come in.” She took the pitcher from the girl. “Have you heard any news?”

  “Just that they will see Tol off today. Deleh is not well. Brokenhearted, she is.”

  Ardra washed and dressed quickly. She suffered the girl’s attentions to her hair so that she might honor Tol, but as soon as the comb was set aside, Ardra dashed off to find Deleh.

  Deleh sat by Tol’s side and looked up when Ardra entered Tol’s tent. Ardra knew at once that Deleh had been there all night in honor of her dead lover.

  “Should I leave?” Ardra asked.

  “Nay, come forward.” Deleh fussed with Tol’s drape.

  Ardra hugged Deleh and then knelt for a moment at Tol’s side. “He lived a good life, did he not?”

  “Oh, aye. He worried so about the boy and you. He wished he could have done more for you.”

  “He gave me more than I could have ever dreamed. He gave me strength. Now I have come to ask you to walk at my side today.”

  “At your side?” Deleh held her hand to her breast. “Samoht will be very angry.”

  “But he will say nothing. I suspect he may even excuse himself from the procession.”

  Lien rolled over and groaned. Ollach and Ralen snored a curiously in-sync chorus on two comfortable-looking chaise lounges. He, on the other hand, had only a fur between himself and the cold dirt floor of Ralen’s tent.

  Ollach, Lien assumed, was ostensibly a bodyguard so that Lien wouldn’t murder Ralen in his sleep.

  He murdered his lumpy pillow instead and rolled onto his back. This tent was an unadorned, no-nonsense affair like its owner.

  Sleep eluded him. His thoughts arrowed straight to Ardra. Her innocence intrigued him. Of course, her lifemate had a concubine, so he imagined that Ardra was often left out in the cold. He stifled a laugh. Refrigerator Girl was out in the cold.

  Actually, he wasn’t going to be able to call her Refrigerator Girl anymore. She was a warm, seductive woman.

  He let his imagination wander. In his mind’s eye, Ardra smiled as he helped her out of her gown. She stretched out on his fur-lined cloak. Her perky breasts stood at attention, and so did Mr. Happy. Her amber eyes opened wide when he finally entered her.

  Rewind. No condoms.

  If he slept with her, he’d be responsible for her. He was suddenly grateful she’d turned shy on him.

  Chapter Nine

  Lien hated funerals, and Tol’s took the cake. It was the funeral of all funerals. The man was carried out onto the plain in a long procession by six Tolemac warriors. Despite the cold, Ralen, who followed the pallbearers, wore a white sleeveless tunic. The man was pretty ripped, and his warrior arm rings reminded Lien that men without them had no status in Ralen’s world.

  Ardra and Deleh walked side by side behind Ralen. Ardra wore a loose lavender robe. It looked like a ceremonial thing. Her hair had been braided into a crown around her head, and she looked regal and humble at the same time.

  Deleh wore the same thing she’d worn while looking after Tol the day before. In contrast to Ardra, the old woman was a wrinkled mess. She wept the whole way, her head bowed.
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br />   When they were at some distance from the camp, they stopped and Tol’s body was placed on a wooden platform. The pallbearers lighted torches and handed them to Ralen and Ardra, who requested one for Deleh. Lien was close enough to hear Ralen refuse and Ardra insist. Finally, Ralen acquiesced. Good girl, Lien thought, show them who’s boss. A third torch was given to Deleh.

  Moments later, Lien gasped as Tol went up in a whoosh of flame. Cremation—in the open. Lien felt sick as the smoke and scent of death reached him.

  They all knelt and bent their heads. As time dragged on, Lien felt the pain of the kneeling position in his spine. He found he could forget the sight of Tol’s burning body if he stared at Ardra. He realized there was a pattern woven into her loose robe. Each time she shifted, the flames caught the design of swirling lines twisting on themselves. More symbolic knotwork.

  The pyre died away until all that remained was a pile of ashes. The procession returned to the camp. Ralen went to Samoht’s tent, probably to find out why the high councilor hadn’t attended the funeral. Lien hoped Samoht’s balls were the size of grapefruit.

  Ardra went directly to her puffy-cloud home away from home. He followed her. She was incredibly beautiful. He imagined her in ancient times walking down the nave of a massive Gothic cathedral to be crowned at the side of some worthy king.

  He, on the other hand, could play the part of court jester at the party afterward. He too was a wrinkled mess. His beard itched, and he wondered how Ralen and Ollach shaved. How did he ask without looking like a complete idiot?

  He rapped his knuckles on one of the tent poles, and Ardra called out for him to enter. She stood at the table washing her hands. “Ah, Lien. I am so glad to see you.”

  She had dropped the lavender robe over the bed. Under it she must have had on this other dress, because there was no way she could have changed so quickly. The dress looked like a long gold column covered by a tight ivory jumper that laced at the sides. Little chunks of amber were stitched down the front of the jumper thing.