Battle for Tristaine

by Cate Culpepper

  Tears coursed down the angular planes of Jess’s face. Brenna started to catch them, but she let them fall. Tears shed in grief need comforting, she thought, but not these. Brenna heard the words in her mind in Shann’s voice and turned to see her smiling at them.

  *

  “We’d best signal, Hakan.”

  They were nearing the outer periphery of Tristaine’s patrol area. Jess was enforcing a deliberately sedate pace as their party neared the village, but it took all her will to sustain it. Home was tantalizingly close, and Jess hungered to feel Amazon ground beneath her feet again.

  “They won’t hear us for another half-league, Jesstin,” Hakan said. “Theryn moved the outer watch closer to our gates.”

  “Did she now.” Jess smiled sourly and felt Brenna press her hand. She met her inquiring look and shook her head slightly.

  The music reached them long before Hakan finally paused to signal Tristaine’s sentries with a complex series of whistled notes. They gathered in a close group and waited, and soft woodwind melodies trickled to them faintly through the trees.

  “Hey. Hey!” Kyla sat up on her pallet, grinning hugely. “Cam, listen! It’s the festival. We didn’t miss it!”

  “Ah, very cool!” Camryn brightened. She admitted to a killing headache, but otherwise seemed none the worse for the ridge. “Ky, you can still sing the Challenge at midnight!”

  “Damn straight.”

  Shann winked at Jess and slid an arm around Brenna’s shoulders. “I’m glad for you, Blades. You’ll get to see us at our best, before our migration begins. It’s the Festival of Thesmophoria. We celebrate it each fall to give thanks for our orchard’s harvest.”

  “Partying Amazons.” Brenna grinned at Jess and endless possibilities.

  “Stand down, sisters.” Shann was looking past them.

  Jess saw Brenna whirl and brace for an army of ax-wielding warriors sneaking up behind them.

  There were just two, and they carried bows.

  “Sweet Gaia, it’s good to see you safe, lady!” A dark-haired woman with a scarred face reached them first and went directly to Shann. She could have been twenty or fifty, and there was genuine affection in her brown eyes as she embraced her queen.

  “I’ve missed you, Myrine.” Shann released her and nodded at the other Amazon. “Hello, Patana.”

  “Lady,” said the second sentry. She was young and heavily muscled and wore her hair clipped so short it was difficult to discern the color. She jutted a strong chin in Kyla’s direction. “What’s up with the young one?”

  “Kyla’s leg is injured, but she’s healing well.”

  “Good.” Patana’s small eyes shifted and returned Brenna’s gaze. “Who’s this?”

  Jess stepped up behind Brenna. “My adanin, Patana, and therefore yours. Her name is Brenna.”

  Brenna offered Patana a neutral smile, and Jess was aware of Patana’s gaze on her breasts.

  “Welcome, Brenna.” Myrine clasped her hand, and then the dimple in her cheek deepened as she turned to Jess. “Demon’s blood, Jesstin, who let you out? We send the City our ugliest Amazon, and they ship her back to us more dog-scarin’ homely than ever.”

  “Still short, too,” Vicar deadpanned from the rear of the group.

  Jess felt her smile warm considerably as she drew Myrine into a backslapping embrace. “Thank you, Artemis,” she intoned. “I’m truly home. Back to the daily abuse that is my birthright.”

  The hands of Jess’s old friend were gentle on her back. Myrine kissed her shoulder before shrugging her off. She shouldered her bow again, a recurve hewn from cedar, beautiful in its simplicity.

  “Your homecoming will brighten a sad Festival, sisters,” Myrine said. “You can expect a grand welcome.”

  “My-rine, are you gonna come here and fawn over me, or what?” Kyla whined, levering herself upright on Camryn’s arm. “Look. A pig bit me!”

  Myrine’s face lit again, and she jogged over to greet Kyla and Camryn.

  “We’ll see you in, Shann.” Patana gestured toward a path into the trees.

  “It’s all right, Patana,” Jess said. “We know the way. Wait here for the night watch to relieve you, and join us after—”

  “Come on, Jesstin, the mountain’s quiet.” Patana slapped Jess’s shoulder, and Shann winced. “The City’s not going to ambush Tristaine in the hour before night watch gets here. Hey, I hear you’ve got some wicked wrestling holds! What say we try them out tonight when the matches begin?”

  Jess turned back slowly and measured Patana’s grinning face through a filter of memories that was less than kind. An intelligent woman and an able fighter, Patana had always struck her as a braggart and a bully. Dyan told her she’d been pressured to name Patana her second, an honor that had gone to Jess.

  “A match sounds good,” Jess replied. “Later. For now, Patana, stay here until you’re relieved. This isn’t the time to get lax on security.”

  It was quiet for a moment, except for the distant music from Tristaine.

  “Guess you’re the boss again, Jesstin.” Still smiling, Patana rested her shoulder against a tree. “Theryn will be glad to have your support. Sure, ‘Rine and I will hang here for a while. I’ll look forward to those matches,” she added.

  “We’ll save you some cider, Patana.” Shann stepped smoothly between her two warriors and called back to Vicar and Hakan. “We ready back there?”

  “Yes’m,” Vicar called as they lifted Kyla’s pallet.

  Shann looked up sternly at Jess for a moment. Jess shrugged. Shann sighed and raised herself on her toes to kiss her cheek. “Let’s go home.”

  The trees were thinning now. The full moon hung low over the valley, filling it with a ghostly blue glow. They began to see light through the trees, the warm flickering gold of torches and small bonfires, and the music grew louder.

  Jess heard a murmuring beneath the melody, a subterranean rustle of many voices. An isolated bark of laughter rose, then the piping music drowned it out. It did seem a subdued Festival at best.

  Shann touched Brenna’s arm as she passed her. Vicar and Hakan followed, carrying Kyla, who reached out and grabbed Brenna’s hand.

  “C’mon, City girl.” Kyla’s wan cheeks were filling with color. “You’re about to meet more hot women than you’ve ever seen in one place in your whole deprived life!”

  Brenna laughed weakly and shook her fingers free before Kyla could pull her any farther.

  Jess paused and had a private word with Camryn. Cam’s eyes were stormy, but she nodded, then dipped Brenna a shy smile as she jogged after Kyla and her entourage.

  Brenna studied Jess. “Everything okay?”

  “Aye, it is. Just passing on some of Dyan’s advice.” She opened her arms, and Brenna stepped into them. “It’s a cold night, adanin. You’re shaking.”

  “Just stage fright.” Brenna scrubbed her cold cheek against Jess’s chest. “Are you sure we can’t just camp here for the night?”

  “We can.” Jess regarded her seriously. “I’ll stay here with you, Bren. If this would be easier in the morning—”

  “Jesstin.” Brenna lifted her head. “For a butch warrior, you can be flat-out kind sometimes, you know that?” She straightened in Jess’s arms. “I’ll be fine. Half of this is excitement, anyhow. I just hope the other half doesn’t throw up on anyone.”

  “If it comes to that, aim for Vicar.” Jess grinned, but then nestled Brenna’s face in her rough palms. “I know you’re scared, querida. I understand. And I wish I could promise you all will be well with Tristaine. Not just tonight, but forever. We can’t know what these next days will bring. I’ll promise you this, though.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Jess savored the fond light in Brenna’s eyes. “You won’t be alone, Bren. I’ll be with you, whatever comes. And our adanin will watch over us both.”

  Their lips blended with a sweet, natural warmth, and they rested against each other for a moment to enjoy it.

&nb
sp; Then Brenna stepped back. “All right, warrior. Take me to my in-laws.”

  Jess grinned, took Brenna’s hand in her own, and led her home.

  Chapter Three

  The murmuring buzz ahead gradually increased, then abruptly surged as shouting broke out, which swelled into cries of welcome. Shann and the others had reached Tristaine’s village square.

  Brenna was dazzled by the bright torchlight that marked the entry to the Festival, and she blinked, hesitating at the top of a small hill. Hand in hand, she and Jess stared down at the milling throng of Amazons below.

  The sheer mass of bodies threw Brenna at first. Hundreds of women and a fair number of children, wearing an array of colorful wraps, were swarming around their sisters, and the noise was growing riotous. The baying of—wolves? dogs?—mixed with human voices, and the music was rising to reflect the joyous new energy in the square.

  “Hoo,” Brenna said softly, and Jess squeezed her hand.

  She saw Shann surrounded by dozens of Amazons all trying to greet her at once. Unhurried, she addressed each of them for a private moment before moving on, bestowing a touch or an embrace. She knelt briefly to inspect one child’s scraped knee, and Brenna lost sight of her. Kyla and Camryn were in the center of another welcoming throng, and several women ran back and forth between the two.

  *

  Jess may have had to sling Brenna over her shoulder and tote her down the hill, because how they got there remained a blur. Brenna remembered being above the crowd and then in it, and after two months in a quiet mountain meadow, the racket alone all but flash-fried her nerves.

  The square was lit with gold from bonfires and torches, and the scent of the pine boughs used in Festival decorations was everywhere. That’s about all Brenna could take in before someone saw Jess and yelled her name, and then they were swamped.

  Brenna never doubted Jess was well loved in Tristaine. She had found her irresistible in the City, under the worst conditions imaginable. But her lover had grown up with these women, and for almost a year, they didn’t know if she was alive or dead. They couldn’t stop touching Jess. A quiet part of Brenna realized she had never experienced anything like this, the kind of emotion that poured from these adanin. The intensity of that bond could power the City generators for a month.

  No one paid any particular attention to Brenna at first, which was fine with her. She worried a little that Jess might be backslapped to death, but watching her, she couldn’t stop grinning. Three of her old friends jumped her, a little too roughly for Brenna’s taste, and Jess actually bellowed with delight. And that wonderful dark, rich, rolling laugh...Jess held her silence even under Caster’s whip, but seeing these sisters again unlocked her throat.

  Brenna’s throat kept closing up. I’m not sure I can live in this place if it makes you feel so bloody much all the time, she thought. Maybe Jess and I can live in a cave higher up. No, wait, lower down.

  “Walk with me!” Jess had to yell to be heard as she took Brenna’s hand and began weaving through the rejoicing villagers.

  Brenna was enjoying this, becoming light-headed with the buzz of euphoria in the women around her. Nothing much was demanded of her at the moment, and most of the Amazons greeted her with enough friendly interest to bolster her courage.

  “Too many voices,” Jess shouted cheerfully in Brenna’s ear. They didn’t make much headway at first, as it seemed every Tristainian they met was waiting to greet Jess with an ecstatic embrace. Gradually, they wended their way through the mob and reached the corner of the village square. Brenna paused, panting a little as Jess stopped at a handmade table bearing mugs of hot cider.

  “Sip it,” Jess instructed as she wrapped Brenna’s cold fingers around the earthware mug. “It’s strong.”

  The stronger the better, Brenna thought, and inhaled the tart fragrance that rose from the steaming brew. Its heady aroma seemed to expand her senses, and her gaze darted everywhere, taking in the village.

  The blue moonlight revealed shadows of log buildings beyond the bonfires, spaced widely over the grassy plain. Tristaine was bisected by a fast-moving river about thirty yards wide, and Brenna could hear its muted roaring beneath the clamor of the Festival.

  “That’s our meeting house.” Jess pointed at the stately lodge across the river, on Tristaine’s highest ground. “It can seat six hundred Amazons for clan council. Those cabins are our homes. They extend farther up the mountain for those who want privacy. Those two long lodges over there,” she indicated, “belong to our guilds, the artists and the tradeswomen. They made the cup you’re drinking from, and our woodworkers built that bridge spanning the river.”

  Brenna heard the pride in Jess’s voice and thought it was well justified. She had imagined this place for months and, at least by moonlight, it was truly beautiful. “Is that an orchard over there?”

  “Aye, our orchard and gardens. And we house our animals in the field beyond them.”

  “Lions and pigs?” Brenna grinned.

  “Sheep and goats,” Jess corrected. “And the fastest mustangs ever bred in these hills.”

  “What’s the little crater with the bonfire?” She nudged Jess. “Did you blow up a lodge when you were a stoned toddler?”

  Jess laughed, a breeze lifting her hair from her brow. She looked fully healthy for the first time since Brenna met her. “That’s our storyfire circle where we trade legends at night. It’s the closest we come to mass entertainment, lass. We have great theater, though, and our chorus can invoke angels.”

  “Hey, is that a stadium?”

  “Tristaine’s arena.” Now Jess was beaming. “Our warriors train there and hold tournaments. That’s Shann’s infirmary next to it. And north of the arena are the stables…” Jess looked down at her. “Ach, I’m going real fast, Bren. You’ll not be tested on this stuff in the morning, I promise.”

  “I want a full tour in the morning.” The cider was helping Brenna relax. “I’d love to see the infirmary, Jesstin.”

  Jess began to agree, but then they were swarmed again by a party of well-wishers. She kept Brenna’s hand and introduced her, but gradually Brenna worked her way unobtrusively out of the group. She lifted another mug to warm her belly while she watched the festivities.

  Brenna was entranced by the range of dogs of every shape and size, yapping and dancing freely throughout the village. The ownership of pets was carefully regulated in the City, and only the aristocracy could afford the few purebred species allowed.

  Her eye fastened on a speeding projectile of white fur and traced the small yelping mutt as it raced through the square, launched itself fearlessly into the air, and crashed into Kyla’s open arms.

  “Max!” Kyla shrieked and laughed as the dog swiped her face with its tongue. Brenna worried briefly about germs, then chided herself for her City mentality.

  “Maximillian.” Camryn lifted the ecstatic mutt off Kyla’s lap and held it squirming and kicking at arm’s length. “Greetings, Max. How’s the fiercest wee beastie in Tristaine? We missed you.”

  Brenna grinned as the somber warrior held off the wild gyrations of the thrashing ball of fur, determined to slurp her face.

  “The clan’s dogs belong to everyone,” Jess’s low voice rumbled at her side. “But like our horses, they choose their favorite allies.”

  “I can see that.” Brenna felt Jess’s arm around her shoulders. “Kyla looks wonderful, Jesstin. So does Cam.”

  “They do,” Jess agreed. “Whoops. Look, lass, a royal summons.”

  Brenna followed Jess’s gaze to a large canopy erected near the Amazons’ storyfire pit. Shann beckoned to them from beneath its colorful fabric, and they picked their way down to her.

  “You were looking a little overwhelmed, Blades.” Shann pressed Brenna’s shoulders. “I’m craving a moment of calm. Will you join me? You too, Jesstin. You have elders to greet.”

  “With pleasure, lady.” Jess’s eyes were shining, and Brenna turned to see three older women seated on padded
benches around a small fire. They regarded Jess with unbridled delight as she bent to kiss their cheeks, her strong fingers gentle around hands gnarled and mottled with age.

  “Jesstin, you’ve sprung up like a weed.” The large woman seated in the middle beamed at them, and her two friends laughed, a sound like river water splashing over mossy rock.

  “They’ve been telling me that since I was six,” Jess explained to Brenna.

  “These three elders sit on Tristaine’s high council, Bren.” Shann was pouring fermented cider into mugs from a ceramic jug. “They’ve guided me wisely for long seasons, and Jocelyn taught me everything I know of healing.”

  “I’m pleased to—Jocelyn?” Brenna’s eyebrows arched. “Um, pardon me, are you Jode’s mother?”

  “That’s me.” Jocelyn smiled, and her smooth face wreathed in wrinkles. “Shanendra tells us Jodoch served his mother’s line well in the City.”

  “He’s my hero. Really.” Brenna’s shoulders were relaxing again. Jocelyn’s maternal presence was as warming as the small fire at their feet. “We could never have escaped from the Clinic without him.”

  “Welp, at least this one has manners.” The woman with a shaved head on Jocelyn’s right grinned at Jess, her sun-weathered skin shining like mahogany in the firelight. The colorful glyph she wore on one side of her neck identified her as one of Tristaine’s warriors. She waggled heavy eyebrows. “And she’s better looking than most you’ve panted after, urchin.”

  “Sarah.” Jocelyn tapped the bald Amazon’s knee. “It would be nice if you’d let us greet just one new arrival with some courtesy, before your odd candor sends her screaming off into the night. Brenna? The serene angel on my left is Dorothea…and this old wretch is Sarah, our village banshee.”

  All three elders tittered again.

  “Sit down, little sister.” The sweet-faced Dorothea clasped Brenna’s hand in her own and patted the small bench beside her. “We want to pick your brains a bit before we march off to our winter palace in the morning.”