by Tristan Vick
Luckily, he’s still in the thick of it. I reach under his arm and roll him onto his back. Still no sign of the keys. “Hmmphf,” I huff, surprised there are no keys. What kind of prison doesn’t have any keys?
“Is everything all right?” Lisette asks, her eyes fixed on me with a hint of worry.
Returning to Lisette’s cell, I draw out my blade and tell her to stand back. She does.
With one fluid swipe of my katana, I cut the lock off the door. It falls onto the floor with a resounding clank.
“Wow!” Lisette chirps. “I thought that would break your blade.
“Not this blade,” I tell her with a demure grin, and I sheath my sword.
Abruptly, the jail door flies open and a second guard staggers in. He’s a large man, and more than a bit overweight. Getting past him won’t be easy. Unaware of our presence, he finishes tucking his blue and gray tunic into his belt, and begins talking to his unconscious friend. “Any other man would have been split in two by such a big shi—”
Becoming aware of the fact that he’s not alone, he looks at the two of us standing in the middle of the wide-open room, doe-eyed and frozen in terror. He grows deathly silent.
We stare at each other for the longest time, then he finally looks down at his unconscious friend, which allows him to piece the last part of the puzzle together.
The prison guard reaches for his sword, and fumbling to get it out, he turns to face us again. He blocks the entrance with his fat body so we won’t escape. “You there, halt!”
Instead of his sword, however, he accidentally brings up his keys.
Ah, I think to myself, we’re dealing with a drunken fool. That should make our escape easier. And at least now I know where the keys went.
I lunge forward and slam into the guard with my shoulder. The keys fly out of his hand and skid across the floor as he rebounds away and careens into the wall, getting the wind knocked out of him in the process. He crumples to the floor and clutches his chest as he tries to breathe. I can tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t expecting a woman to hit him so hard.
The fact is, most non-Bellerans never expect a woman to be able to hold her own in any fight, let alone trade blow for blow with a man twice her weight. Then again, most soldiers never train half as hard as The Sisterhood, the sworn protectors of Bellera. And even fewer still choose to become fifth-level masters of the blade. In fact, apart from myself, the only other female sword master that I know of is an elf named Dinalagosseth of O’ana Onyeshara, the Elf Kingdom. She was Master Kel’s first pupil, but he never talked about her much.
While the guard is down, I give him a swift kick to the jaw and knock him dizzy. This buys us the time we need to make our escape.
Lisette’s hand finds mine and she tugs on my arm, saying, “This way!”
We fly across the room. Lisette leads me down a side hall to the back entrance of the jail where we quickly duck out the back door.
Entering the street, we slow to a casual walk so as not to arouse any suspicion and, at the same time, attempt to catch our breath. An old man is lighting the street lamps with a candle on a long pole just as the sky is fading to dark. The oil lamps give the city streets and local shops a warm and inviting appeal. Something which Valandra has always been famous for.
Suddenly a whistle sounds, and we turn to see both guards shoving their way out of the prison and into the narrow city street. “You there, woman! Get back here with our prisoner!”
Everyone’s eyes lock onto us. That’s our cue to high-tail it out of here. “Run!” I shout.
11
Lisette and I dash up the road, but it’s clear that she doesn’t have the stamina required for a long jaunt. Although I can’t fault her for her that. She’s lived a relative life of luxury. Any training she’s received has been at the request of her father, and unlike Bellera, which prides itself on its warrior heritage where both men and women undergo the most rigorous and physically demanding training, Algoroth is a bit more classical in its views of men and women. That’s not to say she isn’t well trained. She took those sailors out well enough. But with my tutelage, she’ll become quite formidable.
“Another block,” I say as we sprint down the street.
“I can’t,” she gasps, tugging on my arm, urging me to slow down. Her breathing is coarse and she wheezes as she tries to inhale enough air to keep herself going. “I can’t go on.”
I stop in the middle of the street so we can pause to catch our breath and scan our surroundings. I see the blacksmith’s up the road, and just a little further up is the machiner’s shop. Then it dawns on me, I’ve been down this street before. I turn around and, lo and behold, I find that I’m back at the entrance to the brothel.
I look up to the third-story window and, as chance would have it, in the glow of an evening lamp I see the Gaul. It’s the same window that I watched the sailors go up to earlier, and I cringe and hope to the Goddess it isn’t the same woman as well.
The Gaul stands with his back to us, unaware we are watching, and pours himself a glass of wine from a clay jug. “Perfect,” I whisper to myself.
“What did you say?” Lisette asks, still huffing as she places her hands on her knees and catches her breath.
“This way.” This time I’m the one who grabs her hand and, ready or not, I lead her into the brothel.
“Wait,” she protests, lagging behind. “You can’t seriously intend for us to hide ourselves in here?”
“Can you think of any better place for a couple of young, beautiful women to blend in?”
“No, but…”
Suddenly the whistle sounds again. We look back just in time to see the guards peal around the corner as they catch sight of us and head our way.
I pull Lisette inside and we let the door slam shut behind us. Once I’ve set foot inside, I realize my anxiety earlier today was unfounded. There’s nothing inside which would be traumatic. The women are all dressed down, of course, but there is an air of professionalism about the place.
A beautiful brunette leans against one of the show room entrances and looks at us with a gaze both amused and inquisitive. She’s wearing a skimpy forest green chiffon dress which hugs every curve of her vivacious figure. As we scuttle by she asks, “May I help you, ladies?”
“No thanks,” I say hastily. “We’re meeting someone, is all. Thanks. Thanks anyway though!”
She merely laughs at us and lets us continue on our way. I drag Lisette up two flights of stairs, down a long corridor, past open bedrooms with bored courtesans looking out at us inquisitively, and then, at last, to the room where the Gaul is.
I pound furiously on the door until it opens. The Gaul stands there looking at us with a look of utter shock. I can tell that, by the expression on his face, he wasn’t expecting any company. Before he can get out a word, however, I tug on Lisette’s hand and pull her inside. “In here.”
“Come in, why not?” he says after we’ve already entered the room. He pulls the door shut behind him and then looks over at us and scratches his chin as he contemplates what to do with us.
“Who’s this?” the coquette lying on the bed in the red lace lingerie asks the Gaul in a snide tone of voice which does little to conceal her annoyance at the rude disturbance.
I look at the courtesan and humbly apologize “I’m so sorry, but we’re being chased. We need a place to lie low for a while.”
She tosses her brown hair over her shoulder and eyes me up and down. “Fine,” she says. “But just until the coast is clear, otherwise I’ll have to charge you by the hour.”
“Three bits an hour,” the Gaul informs us. “I had an extra bit left over from earlier, so I have Juliet here for four glorious hours.”
Lisette gasps. “Four hours?”
The Gaul winks at her and says, “It’s a marathon, chérie. Not a sprint.”
While the Gaul is preoccupied with attempting to impress Lisette, I notice that the woman in red has a tattoo of the three-tailed fox on her left
shoulder blade. That’s the symbol of the god of mystery and wisdom, Vulpinus. Which means she’s from the island of The Forgotten Ones, El Unarith. An island of many mysteries. An island where men are not allowed to set foot beyond the port town. It also informs me that the Gaul has blown the entire pay I gave him earlier, since a courtesan from El Unarith probably costs more per hour than most people are able to make per day in all of Valandra.
The Gaul tugs on his collar and his shirt falls open which, in turn, allows his hairy chest to peek out. He’s handsome, in the rugged sort of way, if you’re into that sort of thing. And by the expression on Lisette’s face, as she gazes up at him, it’s clear she is most certainly into him.
“Eleven coin bits!” I complain, shoving the Gaul out of the way as I make my way to the back of the room. “A perfectly good waste of money, if you ask me.”
“Au contraire, chérie…” he says rubbing the back of his neck. “Alcohol and women are the only proper uses for money I can think of.”
Turning to the coquette in red, he says apologetically, “Please, don’t mind her, she merely has a perpetual stick up her ass.”
The woman in red snickers at the joke, then, shooting me an irritated look, she crosses her arms over her massive chest and pouts up a storm.
Lisette is caught off guard by our familiarity. She looks at the Gaul again and asks, “Who are you, again?”
“A thousand apologies,” he says, and takes a deep bow. Standing back up he takes Lisette’s hand in his, gives it a peck with his lips, and introduces himself. “My name is Leif Ericson. Son of Lafayette Ericson, the Arch Duke of El Trioli.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and then begin to shed my gear. I slide off my sword and unfasten my leather armor, slip off my boots, and then slide all of it underneath the bed. “Get undressed,” I tell Lisette, as I begin peeling off the rest of my clothes. She gives me a surprised look.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“If we’re still in our day clothes when those guards get here, we’re done for. So strip and get into those sheets,” I demand, pointing at the bed.
Reluctantly, Lisette does as I say. We strip down to our underwear but no further. By the looks of her clothes, I can tell she’s well off. Her underwear is made of fine silk and she has matching corseted top which squeezes her breasts together tightly, amplifying her cleavage in just the right way as to be alluring.
I, on the other hand, merely have an unassuming, soft deerskin loincloth and matching deerskin wrap for my chest. It’s comfortable but not exactly sexy. Not exactly regal. And compared to both Lisette and the whore, I look like an ordinary peasant girl. This, of course, is no good since it would be too much of a giveaway to the guards should they discover us. Finding me wearing the threads of a peasant girl rather than a whore in an upscale brothel would alert them to the fact that I don’t belong.
Realizing what I must do causes me a minor headache, and I look back at the Gaul hesitantly, grit my teeth and, in front of everyone, slip off my top. Covering myself the best I can with one arm, I feel my cheeks flush pink with self-inflicted embarrassment. If I were a little more confident, I think, maybe I wouldn’t be so hung up on my body’s myriad shortcomings.
I turn and face the Gaul and jab a finger into the soft part just underneath his chin. Pushing his gaze up off my chest to where his eyes can meet mine, I growl, “You didn’t see anything. Got it?”
He places his hands up, as if surrendering to me, and replies, “Yes, chérie. Not a single thing. I swear.”
An abrupt pounding at the door interrupts the brief silence and awkward glances are shared between us. A gruff voice shouts out, “Open up! Room check.”
Without any further delay, I turn and help Lisette shove her things under the bed too, then I grab her by the hand and pull her into the covers of the bed with me. The woman next to us giggles with excitement and starts rubbing up on me like an attention-starved kitten. I ignore her and place my hands around Lisette’s face, who is still beside herself with shock. “Kiss me,” I urge, nodding at the door which is about to come crashing in.
“What?” she asks, hesitantly.
“Kiss me, now!”
Our lips come crashing together, our faces mashing into one another in an uncomfortable manner. But just in time. Seconds later, from the corner of my eye, I see the door burst open and one of the guards appears in the doorway.
12
Without a second’s hesitation, I pull Lisette into me and kiss her long and hard. I hold her in my arms, my hands resting on her hips while, at the same time, the woman in red gets excited and begins to rub her massive chest up and down my back which, as distracting as it is, I don’t not mind. At least this way the guard standing in the doorway gets a good show.
Out of the corner of my eye, I keep a steady fix on the guard. As long as he remains focused on the fact that there are three practically naked women lying in bed together, doing the Goddess knows what, his primitive mind will be so dizzy with lust he won’t even remember what his own name is, let alone what our faces looked like from earlier.
“You there,” the guard says, pointing his sword at the Gaul. “Did you see two young peasant women come this way? They’re a couple of foreigners, dark haired, light skinned.”
The Gaul laughs as he pours himself some more wine. Swinging his arm out and waving his hand across the room, as if he’s a merchant displaying his goods and wares, he motions towards us, and says, “Nothing but whores here.”
“Right,” the guard says, scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary.
Taking a large swig of wine, he lets out a satisfied “Ahhh,” then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Throwing his arm around the guard in a drunken fashion, Leif leans in and says, “And they didn’t come cheap either.” After a brief pause, Leif slaps the guard on the back and bellows with laughter.
The guard chuckles along with him and almost seems convinced by our ruse, but instead of leaving, as he should, he turns his attention to me and begins to stare.
Worried he might catch onto our ruse, I giggle flirtatiously and toss my hair so it falls across my face and obscures his view. When he’s no longer looking at my face but is fixated on my ass instead, I can’t help but roll my eyes.
Lisette, who is laying beneath me staring up at my face, almost laughs at me when I roll my eyes and make a sour face, like I just ate a lemon whole. She has to cover her mouth to smother a giggle.
The guard’s eyes continue to slither across my backside as a snake slithers across the ground. It’s as though he’s molesting me with his thoughts, and I can tell exactly what he’s thinking.
Just in the nick of time, the coquette in red picks up on my uneasiness and takes out a folding fan, unfolds it with a quick snap of her wrist, and fans her bosom, letting out a loud sigh for dramatic effect. Then, in one elegant motion, she twirls the fan and covers me, thereby blocking the guard’s view of my backside.
“Tsk, tsk monsieur,” she says to the guard in a disarming tone of voice. “You did not pay for the ten-minute peep show.”
The guard looks taken aback and is about to say something in protest when the Gaul belches right in his face.
I almost laugh out loud but I manage bite my tongue and keep it in. The Gaul’s diversion works, and the guard jerks back in disgust, fanning the air in front of his face with his hand. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” he says, huffing out a disappointed sigh.
The guard turns on his heel and marches back out the way he came. From the hallway, we hear him shout, “They’re not here. Check to see if they went out the back way.”
“That was a close one,” Lisette whispers to me, ignoring the fact that my breasts are pressed tightly against hers.
The Gaul is about to shut the door when suddenly a hand reaches in and stops it. It’s the guard.
Everyone in the room tenses up, and preparing for the worst I lean over the side of the bed and discretely reach for my sword.
Poking his head back into the room, the guard asks, “By the way, out of sheer curiosity, how much for all three at the same time?”
The Gaul leans in and whispers in a hushed voice, as if they’re talking secret business.
“That’s far too rich for my earnings, pal.” With his curiosity quenched, and knowing that he’s out of his league, he gives up any hope of achieving the Gaul’s wonders. He turns and slumps back out of the room to meet back up with the other guards.
Finally, the Gaul secures the door and looks over at us with a stern expression. I can see him desperately trying to determine whether we’re worth all the ruckus.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“The moment you appeared in my doorway I knew you’d bring me trouble,” he complains. And true to fashion, as if nothing is out of the ordinary, he pours himself another drink and takes a sip.
“Oh, yeah?” I say defensively.
“Yeah,” he says between sips.
Jumping up, I tear a sheet off from the bed, wrap it around myself, and stomp over to where the Gaul stands to get right in his face. “Well, I beg your pardon, sire,” I say irreverently, “but we really didn’t have any other choice.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“And are you going to just stand her blathering or are you going to put on some damn clothes?!”
Looking down at myself, I discover he’s right. The thin cotton sheet is little more than a milky film separating me from any sense of modesty I might have had left.
“Fine!” I say, realizing I let my temper get the best of me—again—and somehow allowing it to get me into yet another humiliating predicament.
Embarrassed by my little outburst, I turn back around and fetch my things from under the bed. As I do, I can feel the Gaul’s eyes homing in on my backside. And, once again, I have the overwhelming urge to tear his arm from its socket and beat him half to death with it. But considering he did just save our lives, I decide to allow him one short look.