by Loki Renard
Another ripple of applause followed Cadentis' speech. She smiled, tossed her head so as to send her sweeping fringe out of her eyes and strode toward her riders. "Let us make ready," she instructed her guard. "The hunt is on."
Chapter Eighteen
"I am NOT going to look after Liz!"
Vix burst into Moon's tent, but found only Mistress Trebuchet in residence. The broad shouldered, short haired warrior was sitting on the bed polishing a short blade. She looked up with mild surprise at Vix's entrance.
"I'd say you already have," she said. "If it wasn't for you, she wouldn't be alive right now."
"No she wouldn't," Vix growled. "I should have left here there."
"You wouldn't do that," Trebuchet said. "You can't help but be good."
"And what do I get for it? That damnable witch harassing me at every turn."
"Ah," Trebuchet said, running an oiled cloth along the length of the blade, her eyes following along its journey. "That is what this is about."
"She will not leave me alone," Vix said, pacing a tight circle. "Every time I turn around, there she is."
"Sounds just what you need."
"How would you know what I need?" Vix spat the question then panicked when she realized who she'd spoken to so rudely.
She needn't have worried. Trebuchet smiled broadly. "I've never seen you riled over a woman before. It's quite cute."
"There's nothing cute about any of this," Vix asserted. "This isn't some love affair, this is a meddling witch who considers everyone she meets to be part of her personal project to... I don't even know what she's trying to achieve." Vix stopped pacing and looked at Trebuchet. "I think I'm going to leave," she said quite seriously. "This unit doesn't really need a hengineer, and I don't need a witch telling me what to do."
"Leave, hmm? Where will you go?"
"I don't know, anywhere," Vix shrugged. "This war is mostly in Kira's imagination anyway."
"Careful," Trebuchet warned, lifting a brow in Vix's direction. "I know you're upset, but be cautious which battles you pick."
Vix subsided into her usual careful silence. Sighing, she crumpled into a sitting position, legs crossed on the floor, chin in her hands. "Why does everything have to be so hard?"
"Make yourself useful if you're going to sulk," Trebuchet said, passing a dagger over. "This needs polishing."
Vix looked down at the weapon in her hand, saw that it was mostly clean already save for a few dark flecks around the base of the blade near the hilt. Someone or something's blood had coated it recently.
She looked up at Trebuchet under her lashes as she started to clean. Trebuchet never talked about her exploits or her hardships, and though Vix herself hadn't seen any action, it was obvious that Trebuchet had. Those little flecks were silent reminders of what was really at stake.
"How do you do it?"
"How do I do what?"
"Make someone see how stupid they're being without saying a word?"
"It only works on the smart ones," Trebuchet winked.
Vix smiled a little. "I must seem so petty to you."
"We all live through our own experiences," Trebuchet replied. "If you had lived my life, then perhaps your reaction would be petty, but you have lived your life and I am sure this is just as disturbing to you as it seems to be."
Vix shook her head. "You are surely the wisest warrior in Lesbia."
"And that is still one of the dirtiest blades. Get to shining," Trebuchet said with a wink.
*****
"So I am a punishment?" Liz addressed the question to Ayla, who was busy preparing some unction or unguent or ungulate or something of that nature. "You inflict me upon others as a source of pain?"
Ayla looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Not quite," she said. "Vix's impatience with you will serve you both well."
"I see," Liz said. "She is my punishment."
"You could each stand to learn something from the other," Ayla replied.
"What shall I learn from her? How to be an unimaginative bush woman? How to have twigs in my hair and splinters in my fingers? She is barely alive. She's an automaton, like one of her machines." Liz frowned as she made her proclamations, most unimpressed by the idea she could learn anything from the mundane Vix. "Besides, I do not need looking after. I have a higher purpose, and those with higher purposes are always protected. No harm can come to me. Ariadne will not allow it."
"Harm already came to you, remember? Vix saved your life."
"The plants weren't that poisonous. They just made me feel sick."
"Being ill and exposed is a dangerous combination," the witch reminded her. "Vix saved you, make no mistake."
"Then Vix was an instrument of Ariadne," Liz replied. "Ariadne works in many ways, she uses many people as her instruments."
"Is that so." Ayla hid her amusement, but only barely. "And how do you know the ways of Ariadne so very well?"
"Ariadne lives inside me," Liz declared. "I hear her voice. I give myself to her and I allow her will to guide my steps. My life is lived so that I might bring forth her vision."
"Well," Ayla said mildly. "It's good to have purpose."
"Yes," Liz nodded. "It is."
Silence fell as Ayla mixed her potions and Liz sat there brimming with self-righteous importance.
"You did not beat me," she said after a time. "You must be starting to hate me less."
"I never hated you," Ayla said almost absent-mindedly as she mixed a purple slush into a golden paste.
"Yes you did," Liz said knowingly. "When we met, you disliked me very much."
"When we met you had sneaked into my home."
"You didn't mind that," Liz said. "You didn't like my face. That's why you never look at me, only my buttocks."
"I look at your buttocks because that is the part of you I must most often deal with."
"You're lying, witch."
Ayla's eyes narrowed for a moment in rare irritation. She opened her mouth for a moment, then shut it again.
"You keep me close," Liz said. "But you don't want me here. Why is that?"
"I keep you close because you needed healing," Ayla said. "And I am a healer."
"And a liar."
Ayla took a deep breath, her rising bosom visible through the cleft of her gown. Having gained control, she lowered her head over her potion vial, long silver blonde strands obscuring her expression as Liz looked at her from the bed.
"You can't hide from your lies," Liz said, needling the obvious sore spot with no regard for her own safety. She sat there looking mischievous, the peasant blood showing through quite plainly in her ruddy cheeks and sparkling eyes. Crossing her legs, she sat and fiddled with her dirty braid, keeping a careful watch on the witch.
"I'm not lying."
Liz pointed at her emphatically. "Another lie."
"If I didn't know better," Ayla sighed, putting her potion down to look at the small giant. "I'd say you want a beating."
"What I want is the truth. Don't you think you should tell me the truth?"
"Perhaps I should. What truth would you like to know? The truth that you are a misguided little wretch worshiping a force she doesn't begin to understand?"
A look of hurt flashed over Liz's face. "No," she said. "I want to know why you don't like me, but you insist on keeping me close. My presence hurts you. I can tell. Your face twists up whenever you look at me."
"You share some similarities in appearance to someone I knew long ago," Ayla finally admitted with a heavy sigh.
"Someone you hated?"
"No," Ayla said softly. "Someone I cared for very much. Someone I failed."
"Oh." Liz nodded slowly. "That makes sense." She unfolded her legs and slid from the bed. "Thank you for your tonics," she said. "But I have business to attend to far from here. Ariadne calls me onward. I think it will be less painful for us both if we do not meet again. And do not worry about me, witch. We giant bloods are dense. We can take a lot of punishment. More than you imagine
."
Ayla reached out and put a hand on Liz's shoulder, stopping her before she could leave. "Don't go."
Liz cocked her head. "Why do you say that?"
"Because," Ayla said. "I do not believe in accidents, nor do I believe in chance meetings. We have crossed one another's paths for a purpose, and that purpose is not yet fulfilled."
Liz nodded slowly. "I think perhaps you are right. But the tension here is growing. It will be dangerous here soon..."
The tent flap was thrown open. "Make ready to depart," a soldier said. "Kira's orders. Pack down what you can and be ready to move in one hour. We have a long march ahead of us."
Ayla and Liz looked at one another as the solider rushed on to inform the others.
"Apparently you're not the only one to sense danger," Ayla mused.
"I should hope not," Liz replied. "It's like the coming rain. You can smell it. Can you not sense it?"
Ayla shrugged a little, and Liz frowned deeply. "You can sense it," she said. "You just don't care. I think maybe you're the one who needs someone to look after her."
The simple words made a smile bloom on the witch's face, and for a moment she looked almost as young as Liz. "That's a sweet notion, but I can very much take care of myself."
"That's the sort of thing I'd say," Liz pointed out. "And you know how that turned out for me."
"But I am not you."
"I don't know about that," Liz replied. "You're taller, and prettier, granted, but I don't know if we're that much different. I think you and me are related somehow. You have any giant blood in you?"
"My blood is as much of a mystery as Ariadne's whereabouts," Ayla said.
"You're a little bit tall for a giant," Liz said, eying Ayla critically, "though that bottom of yours could be giant. Thick through the hips, you are..."
"If you don't mind," Ayla interjected. "I believe we're packing to flee."
"Oh yes," Liz agreed. "But I don't have anything to pack. Do you have anything I could flee with?"
Ayla smirked and laid her palm across Liz's cheeky posterior with a sound whack. "Will that do?"
Liz scrunched her face up and rubbed her backside. "I should have seen that coming. Typical giant trick, that."
Chapter Nineteen
The camp was soon broken down, all souls assembled before Kira. The soldiers had formed two columns of equal length when Ayla and Liz approached, finding they were the last to arrive. The warrior was waiting at the head of her armlette, dressed in relatively light leathers. She wore bracers the length of her forearms and her legs were clad in tight leather leggings culminating in heavy boots. Her upper body was covered in a leather and mail vest which left her tattooed upper arms bare. Though she was not heavily armored, everything about her spoke to battle readiness.
Ayla and Liz stepped to the back of the group and Kira's dark eyes flicked to them briefly before she began giving the final orders.
"We are splitting three ways. Aeron, Trebuchet, Ayla and respective parties, you're with me. The rest of you head east or west according to your designation. Keep moving until you hit the coast. If you're ambushed or cornered, split up and return to your villages. You will hear from me in due course. Take care with your lives. Avoid conflict where possible. I don't want to lose a single one of you in this. Now go."
The columns split and moved off according to her orders. In less than two minutes the camp which had hummed with raucous life was empty, nothing but a well trodden clearing. The small party left behind was comprised of Ayla, Kira, Trebuchet, Aeron, Moon, Vix and Liz.
"What has precipitated this?" Ayla asked the question mildly, showing little concern.
"We have a pursuit," Kira said. "The queen herself this way comes." A slow smile spread across her face. "Riding on a pony."
Ayla lifted a brow at her old friend. "You do not seem worried, but you must be to have disbanded."
"I don't need my armlette being caught," Kira said. "They are too loyal and worth more than that."
Ayla nodded. "And where are we going?"
"Further south."
"There is not all that much further south to go."
"We will escape into the peninsulas if required. There is more to Lesbia than the main continent. For the moment, all that matters is that we move. Aeron, you will scout ahead. Trebuchet, take up our rear." Kira pointed at Vix, Moon and Liz. "The three of you should go to the nearest village and take up gainful employment."
"I was not made for gainful employment," Liz said, speaking first. "I was made to do Ariadne's will."
"I will not leave Trebuchet's side," Moon spoke next. "I will not sit in some village and wait to hear bad news."
All eyes then turned on Vix, who shrugged. "I'll go to the village."
"On second thoughts," Kira said. "We may need a hengineer. You stay."
"You haven't needed me thus far that you've noticed," Vix said. "I'm sure you can manage to bash through the undergrowth without my help."
Kira's eyes narrowed in Vix's direction. "We are at war," she said. "I have no time for the temper tantrums of spoiled brats. You will follow orders, or you will suffer the consequences."
"We're more at running away than at war," Vix replied. "Or is this how you have lived so long? Running away from every battle?"
Every jaw that was not Vix's dropped at her unexpectedly bold rudeness.
Kira did not waste another breath on words. She took Vix by the front of her vest and hauled her forward. She then proceeded to slap Vix hard across her behind with a blow which made every muscle in her considerable arm ripple, and Vix's britches jiggle. Vix let out a plaintive yowl of pain which did nothing to stop Kira from slapping her again.
"Easy," Ayla said, putting her hand on Kira's exposed arm. "I know she is vexing, but there is not the time to beat her now. I will keep her with us."
"Keep her silent too," Kira said, letting Vix go. "Her impudent tongue is dangerous to her hide."
"What has gotten into you?" Trebuchet pulled Vix aside while Ayla distracted Kira. "That's not like you."
"Maybe it is like me now," Vix shrugged. Her bottom hurt and her pride was wounded and she was most unhappy.
"You and I are going to talk," Trebuchet promised. "Next time we make camp. Just keep your lips sealed until then and stay close to Moon. She will no doubt have some herb to soothe you."
"I can't believe you said that," Moon giggled as they began their march to the southern bounds of Lesbia. "You're getting bold."
"I'm getting tired," Vix said. "This is futile."
Kira whipped around to glare at her. "If I hear another word out of you I will thrash you so hard you will not remember your name."
"Then I'd be like you, you don't know what my name is either," Vix muttered under her breath as she sank into resentful silence. The great warrior was nothing but a great bully as far as she was concerned.
Fingers were hooked in the back of her vest and she was drawn backwards to Trebuchet with a swiftness. "Stop," the bulky warrior said "I mean it."
Trebuchet didn't often give orders, but Vix had the feeling she would do well to obey that one. Both Kira and Trebuchet were looking at her with unimpressed expressions. Kira seemed especially annoyed, but Vix was more worried about Trebuchet whose shadow was falling over her in a way that could only be described as ominous.
The party continued onward, but Trebuchet held Vix back.
"Seems we won't be able to wait until we rest to deal with this," the stocky warrior said. "You do understand that lives are at stake here, don't you?"
Vix nodded. She did not wish to fall afoul of Trebuchet. It would be an unpleasant and ultimately alienating experience she was sure.
"Don't get sulky with me," the warrior said, giving her a gentle nudge to get her moving so they did not fall too far behind. "We talked about this with you and the witch."
"This isn't just about Ayla," Vix muttered. "This is about all of this. I'm tired of it."
Trebuchet's hand fell o
n her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Vix, sweetie," the warrior said in a low murmur. "This hasn't even begun to happen yet. You don't know enough to be tired of it."
"I'm tired of Kira thinking she can order me around."
"She's the commander of this armlette," Trebuchet said. "That means she can order you around."