Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

  She sighed shortly and looked at the material in her hands. Her breeches had been exchanged for her skirt as she had decided to take the opportunity to mend the torn side seams. She was suddenly less certain about her choice. She glanced down the tunnel that led to the lava pits and wished Di’nay would hurry back. Sometimes her Amazon’s curiosity was not well-timed. Aside from the fact that Garrison was a man and she was not feeling very comfortable in being alone with men in general, not since the beatings by Maltar’s soldiers — she was not terribly certain that her Common was going to be sufficient, although she had been practicing with Di’nay these past few days. It only made matters worse that Garrison was an off-worlder; she had never particularly cared for off-worlders.

  He was also an intruder. She well understood that the intimacy which she shared with Di’nay would have to change to accommodate this new person. That certainly did not predispose her to like him. It would have been nice, she thought wistfully, if he had been another Amazon.

  “Hello there.”

  She turned to face him, absently noting that he had a pleasant smile despite the rather ragged growth of his beard.

  He propped himself up on an elbow, his smile broadening into an appreciative grin as he took in the long, loose hair and her skirt. “Well, you certainly don’t look like an n’Athena Amazon.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Elana returned icily, taking up her sewing again. His amarin had been friendly enough, but his tone had carried an overconfidence she didn’t like. It did not help that she would have been flattered and not insulted if he had mistaken her for one of the Sisterhood — and Di’nay had said not to tell him different. Still, they were going to spend a great deal of time together over the next ten-day. Reluctantly, she softened her tone. “If you’d like to try a bath, the hot springs will help the soreness. The water’s no good for drinking, though, so be careful.”

  “Is there drink? And food?” His tone was polite but edged with gnawing desperation and Elana felt a guilty twinge. He was literally half-starved.

  “There is only cold meat,” she said gently, putting aside her mending. “Water is rationed.” Elana lay the meat plate down beside him before uncapping the waterskin. “There are two more days of walking before we leave these rocks.”

  He accepted the half-cup gratefully. She left him her small dagger before moving back to her sewing.

  “How many in ‘we’?” Garrison asked as he clumsily bit into the dry meat.

  “Three. You, I and Di’nay.”

  “And you are?”

  “Elana.”

  “You have an unusual accent.” He tried another bite, and decided this primitive stuff wasn’t so bad at that. “You don’t use Common much?”

  She did look at him then, wondering why he was doing so much talking when all he was interested in was the food. “There are great number of other languages, Lieutenant. Why don’t you simply enjoy your meal?”

  “It’s Paul, everyone calls me Paul. So, tell me, where’s the Amazon?”

  “Di’nay is out exploring.”

  “And you?”

  He was deceptively shallow, Elana realized. Because he tended to think as nonchalantly as he spoke she found his auras did not indicate his curiosities well. But at this moment, she did not doubt that he cared more for himself than for most other things, including herself.

  “I am trying to work.” She lifted the garment as proof.

  “No, about the Amazon. How’d you end up with her?”

  “I am with her, if that is what you ask,” she returned coldly. She had about as much intention of explaining the Council or Di’nay’s background to him as she did of returning to Maltar’s reign. But she had been right, he didn’t actually care much one way or the other.

  He looked regretfully at the rest of the meat before pushing it away. “Is there any soap? Don’t suppose there’s a chance you gals have a razor or a mirror around, is there?”

  She looked at him sharply, concentrating — grasping for meaning around the unfamiliar words. But he was fingering his beard thoughtfully, and it didn’t take much to realize what he wanted. “The knife will have to do,” she answered slowly, setting aside the trousers again. “I believe we have a glass.” She thought Di’nay’s first aid kit had carried a smaller one.

  “And soap?” He rose, wiping the little dagger clean on his thigh. He looked around the small scattering of supplies. “Oh, you’ve got a cake by the pool.”

  Elana handed him the mirror and he smiled charmingly, bowing slightly. “Thank you, Elana.”

  She returned his formality with a tip of her head, but found herself almost smiling. “You are welcome — Paul.”

  His brown eyes lit with delight at his name. He would get her to thaw out yet! There was absolutely no reason why they couldn’t get along. After all, not all of the Empire’s men were so bad — and it felt so good to be alive. He figured he could do just about anything — starting with a real bath. Now, if he could just have had a thick, polyvit steak and a beer — everything would have been perfect.

  † † †

  Diana accepted the cup of tea from Paul as he joined her near the outskirts of the fire’s light. The flickering shadows hid his clean-shaven face, but the stiffness of his gait attested to his soreness.

  “It’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve done the hand-to-hand stuff… for real, I mean.” His tone was derisive, and as he sat down he sighed, disgusted with himself. “My clumsiness almost cost us.”

  A disbelieving grunt greeted him in return, and Diana sat up a little straighter against the rough-barked tree. Her eyes turned back to the night’s depths as she reminded him, “It’s like docking a shuttle. If you succeed, it was a good maneuver. If you don’t, nothing much matters any more.”

  “You believe that?”

  She took a long, slow breath and thought it over. The two scouts had only been one pair of dozens scouring the forested foothills of the South Ridge. Slipping past the lot of them undetected would have been possible only if Elana had used her Sight, but that would have alerted the old Seer to the fact that they were indeed out of the Path’s stony depths. By tomorrow the hawker would have brought word and they would have been in even more trouble. So they had run a bluff — side-tracking east and then west again so that their trail looked as if it had originated in Black Falls and not in the heights of the Ridge. Then, rather than avoiding a party, they had taken the offensive. Like a batch of roaming thieves they had attacked, leaving the pair of soldiers unconscious while raiding their possessions. There had been relatively little bloodshed for a change. That had been a relief to both Elana and herself. They were growing more and more tired of death and intrigue.

  She looked at the silent man in front of her again. And she remembered his adroit disarming of the soldier’s knife. He had done well considering his lack of preparations. She smiled encouragingly. “Yes, I do believe it went fairly well. It was my fault in not warning you that the men of Aggar always carry hand daggers in addition to their hunting knives. You did well to throw him. I am sorry about your arm.”

  He shrugged, feeling better at her reassurance. He had in fact, felt clumsy only because of Diana’s quickness in rescuing him. She’d dispatched the first man with amazing ease and then had not hesitated to knock the second unconscious as Paul wrestled with the soldier.

  “Did Elana redress your wound for you?”

  He flexed his arm. “Barely even hurts. She has a nice touch. I want to thank you for bailing me out with that guy.” Paul examined a blistered hand intently. He had collected firewood this evening, and the hot, heavy wield of Diana’s sword had not been much to his liking. “I mean, I am grateful and all.”

  Diana chuckled lightly. “It’s been one of the lesser feats of this trip, believe me.”

  “Still,” he swallowed awkwardly, “with Elana watching and everything—”

  “She would have stepped in, if I’d not been able to,” Diana pointed out quietly. “Sh
e’s much more talented than you credit her.”

  “Well, sure — yeah. I mean — but the whole point to her hanging back was not to be recognized — her hair ’n all — right?”

  Her eyes narrowed and Diana agreed, disquieted, “Right.” Males, she thought tiredly, but she couldn’t bring herself to be too upset. He had adjusted well. Being the odd man out was not a role that he was accustomed to. His openness in helping with camp chores without being asked and his seemingly respectful distance that allowed her to snatch a moment or two of Elana’s time were points in his favor.

  She said, “Don’t feel too bad. She’s not your typical guide.”

  “She is something special. You trained her well. You can tell just by the way she tracks through these woods.”

  “Not me,” Diana corrected. It was odd to be sitting here discussing Elana with a Terran male!

  “Oh.” Paul looked at her in confusion, “I thought — never mind.” He shook his head dubiously, not wanting to look like he was intruding despite his curiosity.

  “Yes, she is well-trained,” Diana amended. “Just not by me.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes drawn toward the figure in the firelight with hair a dark cloak hiding her face as she bent over her medicine purse. He was aware of the Amazon’s silent scrutiny as he asked, trying to keep on the casual note, “Have you two been together long?”

  “Long enough.”

  Her evasion was not lost. Paul looked back to his companion, his curiosity mounting. “She calls you something else — Di’nay?”

  “It is the name I use here on Aggar. She happens to like it.”

  “Does she speak the local dialect then?”

  Diana answered truthfully, “Elana is proficient in many languages. Without her, I might never have found you simply because of the language barriers.”

  It seemed, Paul thought, that they must be very newly partnered. Perhaps even just for this occasion? He looked out into the forests and commented, “I’ve noticed she seems less comfortable with Common.”

  Diana carefully chose her next words. “Little need to use it around here. And as with me, it is not her first tongue.”

  He jumped on that. “Your native language is hers too?”

  “Actually we share several.”

  “That’s good — nice, I mean.” He didn’t even know the names of the languages Amazons used — not many did. But he had never met an Amazon that looked anything remotely like Elana, and he found himself wondering if maybe she wasn’t one. If the two of them had not been together long… anything was possible.

  “We have a lot to do tomorrow,” Diana reminded him quietly. She appreciated the way he seemed to respect the tacit limits she set, but was uneasy at his silences. Perhaps she was overly sensitive. It had been a long day for all of them.

  “Yes.” His grin was charming. “Sleep would be a good idea. Well, good-night Diana. Again — thanks.”

  “Save it ’til you see the base.”

  After he left Diana sighed and settled her cloak more securely around her. Above the early moon was rising and the silvery threads of her light began to lace down through the trees. A beautiful night for romance, she mused with a faint stir of disappointment. The garden at the Keep would be enchanting. She thought of standing beside the low wall, the moonlight shimmering across the forested depths below. She thought of standing there with her arms entwined about Elana as the two of them peacefully waited for the midnight moon to appear — time to be together without the press of the mission, of Maltar’s men, and without the awkward, stumbling assumptions of their initial misunderstandings.

  At the last, Diana laughed at herself. Did such assumptions ever really disappear? Or did they merely get exchanged for another set as you went along? Misunderstandings were part of love and life. Perhaps it was growing to handle them with some degree of trust that made love so sweet… then theirs was growing to be very sweet indeed.

  † † †

  Chapter Seven

  No!

  The word rang through her mind. Gloved fingers clenched and mortar crumbled. Frustration hissed from her lips as Cleis jerked her hands away from the garden’s wall. She trembled with anger, and with a curse, slapped her hands down hard on the gray stone.

  No. Not a rider to spare — not a single horseman to send. No!

  Council and Empire did not mix. How many times had she heard Thomas say that in her eight years here? How many times had she winced at that blind, prejudicial statement? But there was truth in the words to be sure. Too many centuries of mistrust — too many centuries of bitterness had passed, and cooperation was still never more than tentative.

  Ann Nehna?! The Council had demanded a role in this venture! They — not the Empire — had assigned a Council guide. And now — now they blithely, calmly denied any further support. Didn’t give a second thought about either woman!

  “There are always alternatives to an aggressive stance.”

  She snapped around, cloak flying.

  The dark robes of the Old Mistress rustled as her hands sank into hidden pockets, and having announced herself, the woman moved forward again. Her gray eyes serenely met Cleis’ blazing gaze. The Mistress smiled.

  “Meanwhile you allow your agent to be killed.” She did not try to hide the sharpness in her voice. Cleis was not about to pretend she understood.

  The old woman took a seat on the garden’s stone bench. “Our agent — your agent — definitions are so vague.”

  “Death is not. Neither is the threat of it.”

  The elder nodded. “Sometimes quite true.”

  They faced each other in silence, the air stretched thin with the tension. Then, with a sigh, Cleis leaned back. The cold stones’ solidity reminded her of the Goddess’ stoic patience. This woman would not be here if her pleas had gone completely unheard. Perhaps it was again time to listen.

  “I do not understand, Mistress,” Cleis began in a softer voice, “why is it the Council cared so much that they sent a guide with Di’nay, and yet now they care so little to have her safe return?”

  “It is not a question of concern for either woman,” the old one answered quietly. “It is a question of diplomacy. You — and your commander — have come here to ask that we of the Keep use our influence to gather a force to ride to Gronday in preparation for battle.”

  “As escort,” Cleis amended quickly. “We are not searching for battles of any kind. We need only to be able to defend ourselves if the need arises.”

  Levelly the gray eyes held hers. “In truth, Amazon?”

  With a short sigh Cleis shook her head again. “I do not know.”

  “Fair enough.” The Mistress shifted and offered Cleis the seat beside her.

  The Amazon declined. She was too weary just yet to court peace.

  “Your proposition has presented the Council with two difficulties. First, our role has always been one of mediation here on Aggar. We have always urged reform by mediation. We do not, by principle, ever leave the territory of this fortress with a military force. We tend to travel only in pairs or trios.”

  “Doesn’t that place you a little beyond the mortal scheme of things?”

  “Perhaps.” The Mistress’ tone was biting. “But it appears to have its advantages. There is only one Terran base.”

  Cleis nodded. “Granted.”

  “Even if we of the Council acknowledge raising your escort as a single incident, there are tribes who would not. We risk setting new precedents. The balance would be threatened. Power corrupts, as your people have often reminded us. Do you grasp the repercussions we might be courting?”

  “Yes, there is more at stake here than three lives.”

  “If we do as you ask, we could appear to be a threat to the Terran Empire. Now we are considered harmless, despite our proximity to the galactic border and our ambivalent truce with the Empire. How will your Terran leaders take it if we can respond so quickly to this threat today? Might we not strike equally as quickly
against your base at another time? Perhaps in a crucial time, when the Alliance is under attack? Perhaps we bide our time until the opportunity is ripe? Perhaps we await only the proper moment to drive you from our soil?”

  “Why would you not?”

  A dry chuckle came from the Mistress. “It would be foolishness on our part. At best, those across the borders would claim Aggar, and an intergalactic battle would begin all over again. At worst, either — or both — sides would annihilate life in this solar system. We have no wish for either outcome. We want to develop our cultures — our planet — within our own codes of ethics. We do not wish to adopt your problems along with your technology.”

  Cleis found herself agreeing even if it hurt to know Diana and her companions were still left unaided.

  “But remember. There are always alternatives. There is the recourse of abandoning the River Road altogether…?”

  “At what price?” Cleis snapped back, her temper flaming again. “What would Council spies gain with such a detour? If the scouts identify us, there are leagues of undefendable tracks that would force us to outride them — if we can! And then? Then they are led to the Unseen Wall! Treaty forbids we take any of Aggar with us into the base. Yet you would have Diana ride into the base at full gallop with men of Aggar driving behind? Just how long do you think it would take for the another tribal lord of Aggar to come searching for the Terran base? Then where would your precious balance be, Mistress? How would you curb the jealousies and suspicions?”

  A faint smile of amusement at the passions of youth hovered on the thin lips of the old woman. “So you have not suggested such a plan to your Commander?”

  “Certainly not.”

  The Mistress came closer. “What would you advise him to do, Amazon, now that you know the delicacy of all our positions?”

  Cleis sighed. “I will tell him to withdraw the request.”

  “For what reason?”