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Chapter 18

Hestia looked from the report the Katabull had sent to the report she had just received from the tradesmen's guild.

"The Amalites have become too aggressive," Hestia said. "We must put an end to them now before it is too late. Bring me Tarius the Black, the leader of the Marching Night and the Katabull Nation."

"At once, my Queen," the chancellor said. "But what if the Katabull should decline your invitation?"

"It's not an invitation, Colin, it's an order. The Katabull still come under Kartik rule," Hestia said.

"My Queen . . . The Katabull are celebrated among our people and no Katabull more so than Tarius the Black. Do not, I implore you, order the Katabull or their leader to do anything. Instead, prepare a feast in honor of this woman who has killed so many of the queen's enemies, and who is now leader of the queen's mightiest subjects," Colin said.

Hestia nodded with a sigh. "You are right, of course. I'm sorry to be so ill-tempered. I was just hoping that the Amalites would not so darken our shores during my reign. My father did not see the signs, Colin. The Amalites swept down on his shores, falling first on the Katabull and then on us. He waited till it was almost too late to drive them away. I do not want to wait that long. I want to stop them now, and I need this Tarius the Black and the Katabull people to drive the Amalites away. Therefore I should approach her with friendship, not orders."

* * *

Tarius sat in her throne surveying the workers below, having taken a break from her own work. Jena brought her a mug of water and sat in her lap as she gave it to her.

"The work goes well," Jena said.

"In a week it should be done," Tarius said.

The Katabull were building docks for their newly acquired ships. It was a huge undertaking, but all took turns with the work. Since Tarius and the Marching Night worked alongside them, they didn't feel inclined to complain about mistreatment. The docks and the boats would serve the entire Katabull nation. First as a means of defense, and second as an obvious boon to fishing. They had the perfect harbor for the docks and more than enough trees.

Her herald, Rami, came running up to her out of breath.

"Great Leader . . ."

"What did I tell you about that?" Tarius asked sternly.

"Tarius . . . the queen's herald has come with word from Queen Hestia herself," he said excitedly.

"Well don't just stand there, bring him on," Tarius said.

A few minutes later, the queen's herald stood before Tarius. He seemed only a little surprised to see Jena in the Katabull leader's lap, and Jena smiled.

"Great Leader," the Herald said. "My Sovereign, Queen Hestia, Ruler of all the Kartik, Herald of the Dawn, and Daughter of the Moon, requests the presence of you, your mate and the Marching Night at a great feast to be held in honor of your great service to our kingdom."

Tarius smiled broadly at Jena. "What did I tell you?"

"You told me," Jena said with a smile.

"When is this feast to take place?" Tarius asked.

"The queen leaves the time to you."

"Then make it three weeks from today. We are engulfed in this project, and I must not leave it unattended. Tell the queen we will be happy to dine with her."

The herald stood there for a moment just looking at Tarius.

"Is there something else?" Tarius asked.

"I'm sorry, Great Leader. It's just . . . you're bigger in the stories."

Tarius laughed. "Am I really, now? Go boy, tell the queen we'll be happy to meet with her." The boy started to go and Tarius reached out quickly and grabbed his arm. Startled, he turned to look at her. "Tell Hestia that I have the answer to her problem and will explain it upon my arrival. Can you remember that?"

He nodded and repeated. "You have the answer to the queen's problem and will explain it upon your arrival."

"Good man, now go."

"What was all that about?" Jena asked.

"Hestia needs help with the Amalites," Tarius said. "When we are finished here we can give her the help she needs."

* * *

Hestia waited with baited breath. Her heralds had just informed her that the Marching Night could be seen from the castle garrison. She had word sent to the kitchen staff, and she dressed and prepared to meet her guests. Her consort rubbed at her shoulders.

"Everything will be fine, Hestia. Did she not send word saying she has a solution to your problem?" he said gently.

"Which problem, Dirk?" Hestia asked. "The Katabull talk in riddles; it's their way. The gods alone know what she meant. What if I say the wrong thing? This woman is a mighty warrior. I run an army, but I know nothing about warfare. I only do what has been tried and true. I do know that it would be a grave mistake to ignore what the Amalites are doing to our shipping lines, and I need her help to find a solution. I need the help of the Katabull Nation. If I make a mistake, the entire kingdom will pay for it."

"Then you won't make a mistake, my love." Dirk gently kissed her neck.

* * *

The queen stood in her throne room with her champion standing on her right hand side and her consort on the left. Her retinue stood all around her. The trumpet sounded, the door opened, and her herald strode in.

"My Queen, Tarius the Black, the Leader of the Katabull Nation, her consort, Jena of the Jethrik, and the Marching Night.

She had tried to prepare herself for any kind of entrance, but still wasn't prepared for what she saw. Tarius the Black was tall and dark, her long hair braided in small braids all over her head. Her armor was leather as black as the darkest night and studded with metal that shone even in the darkened castle hall. Her pauldrons and knee cops were pounded into the shape of skulls. Her arms were bare except for studded black leather vambraces. She wore black leather breaches with a loincloth and a cloak of a dozen brilliant hues. She bore the scars of a hundred battles. Little scars ran up and down both her arms, there was a scar across her throat and one down her face. She looked every bit as powerful as her legends proclaimed.

Yet she gave Hestia a smile that put her instantly at ease.

The woman at the warlord's side was definitely of the Jethrik and an unquestionable beauty. She wore a colorful wrap-around dress, not unlike the one the queen was wearing, but she also carried a sword on her back that wasn't much smaller than the one her mate carried.

The Marching Night was a mixed batch who had obviously cleaned up for the occasion, re-dyeing their leather armor and shining the metal parts. And they didn't bow to her. That meant that at least their leader was a follower of the Nameless God. Must be hard to wield such power and yet harbor the belief that no person was any better than another.

"My Queen," Tarius said.

"Great Leader." Hestia remained standing to show that she, too, thought herself no better than anyone else. She knew that any show of fear would lose her the respect of this woman and her followers, so she walked right up to her. "Sister," she said holding up her hand.

"Sister," Tarius said, taking her hand and bringing their elbows together. "We have much to discuss concerning the Amalite menace."

"Yes. But first we shall feast."

* * *

The queen watched as the Katabull throne was placed at the table next to her own.

"Some stupid custom of my people. The leader always has to sit on the throne. You should see the way they fall apart if I go to sit on a rock. Not that it stops me anyway," Tarius explained to Hestia.

Hestia nodded graciously.

They sat on their thrones at the same time. Tarius on the queen's right hand side in the place of honor. Everyone else sat only after Hestia nodded and Tarius waved her hand wildly in obvious and utter impatience with the whole procedure. Jena sat to Tarius's right, followed by Harris, Elise, Arvon and Dustan.

The queen's retinue consisted of her consort, her councilors and their respective mates. They were not nearly as colorful or as good looking as Tarius's people. Nor were her subjects as entertaining as the Marching Night. They all started to reach for the food in the middle of the table, and their leader looked at them and growled. They snapped their hands back to their laps like scolded children.

The hall steward filled the queen's glass, and then the servers around the room filled all the glasses of the waiting guests.

Tarius coughed, looking at the Marching Night and moved her head closer to the queen. "Queen Hestia . . . You are aware that I myself and a good half of my troop are Katabull and that we therefore have no tolerance to alcohol."

"Well aware," Hestia said with a smile. "And as I have no desire to have my hall filled to the brim with drunk Katabull, this toast will be made with grape juice. Then we will bring out the wine, and if your people choose to get drunk, then so be it. I will hold no grudge."

Tarius nodded, looked at her people and nodded again.

The queen raised her glass and stood, motioning with her hand that they should remain seated. "I raise a glass to our honored guests. Tarius the Black, Great Leader of the Katabull Nation, to her lovely and capable consort Jena, and to the Marching Night. May your people forever prosper and have power over your enemies."

They all drank, and the queen sat down.

Tarius stood up raising her glass. "May the queen and her consort live long, healthy lives, and may all our enemies be as the dust beneath our feet."

They all drank, and Tarius sat down.

Then the servers started bringing the food in. First to the queen and the others seated at the head table, and then to everyone else.

"So, I'm assuming that you are a follower of the Nameless God," Hestia said conversationally.

"I am, as are most of the Katabull," Tarius said.

"Yet you have leaders?"

"Yes, it does seem contradictory, but only to those who don't understand our philosophy. See, all are equal, from the monarch to the man who cleans the public privy. Both serve important functions, and both are needed. I am leader; it's a job. If I abuse the power of that job, if I treat people as if they are underlings, then I am breaking the code. A good leader is not the master of the people, but the servant," Tarius said.

She's eloquent, not at all the barbarian I was expecting, Hestia thought.

"Well put," she said.

"Thank you. The leader does not make laws, nor does the leader pass judgment on the people except when problems cannot be solved within the pack. My main job is to defend my people, to make sure we have a strong defense, and that's what I will do. I personally believe that a strong offense is the only real defense. What say you, Hestia?"

Tarius didn't blink an eye; she seemed to look right into Hestia's soul. She dispensed with any formalities, either real or implied, and called Hestia by her name not her title. Hestia found herself so off balance that she felt obliged to tell the woman the plain and simple truth.

"I know nothing of warfare except what is in books, and what I have learned in a training ring," Hestia answered in a whisper.

Tarius smiled. "Well, then we truly are the same. Because I know nothing else."

Riddles . . . why must the Katabull always talk in riddles? Never a straight answer. It puts me off my guard.

Jena stuck her head around Tarius to address Hestia. "She means that you are missing the skills she has, and that she is missing the skills you have."

Jena slapped Tarius on the shoulder playfully. "Say what you mean, dunderhead."

Then she again addressed Hestia. "The food is good." Jena went back to her plate.

Hestia watched the way Tarius's whole face seemed to light up when the woman spoke to her. She wasn't offended, and Hestia realized she had to relax. This woman knew nothing of a gentle life. She was a mercenary—a killing machine who had lived by her wits, but she was also filled with good humor.

"I need your advice, but it can wait till after dinner," Hestia said.

"The last time I gave council to a monarch I was shot through with an arrow and left to be dragged to death behind a horse for my efforts. As for dinner, I do my best thinking while I am eating," Tarius said.

"I am not Persius. I am Kartik. I would never reward good with evil," Hestia assured her. "The Amalites are raiding about one in five of our trading ships, killing the crews, and slowing down trade with the Jethrik and the barbarian nations. Worse still, as many as we kill, there are always more coming in on our own ships—the ships they steal from us. Despite our best efforts, the attacks are not lessening, they are becoming more severe. Case in point, the recent attack on your own people. What should we do?"

"I have six ships and a port from which to sail. Even as we speak my people are fixing the boats with Kartik sails and flags. We need supplies. As you know the Katabull people are primarily an agricultural, hunting and gathering culture. We have no wealth with which to outfit our ships. We need supplies from you. I also need a hundred of your best men. I myself will man one ship and put a mixture of humans and Katabull on all of them. We will sail in the areas where the ships are being raided. Then, when the Amalites come to raid us, the Katabull will call the night, and we will attack them. We will kill all on board and take their ships for our own. We will bring the ships back to the closest port where your people will outfit them for the coming war . . ."

"The coming war?" Hestia asked.

"The Amalites will never stop coming after us until we destroy them utterly. At the very least, we must destroy all their ships. Burn them and their ports. Make sure there is not even one fishing boat left. Take away their ability to sail, and you take away their ability to torment us. Send ships periodically to make sure that they never have the chance to rebuild their ships and their ports, and we get rid of the Amalite menace forever."

"I will get you everything you want," Hestia said. "Whatever you need, you have but to ask and I will seal it. I will not make the same mistake that my father made; we will crush the Amalite horde now and forever."

Hestia realized just then that about a half a dozen drunken Katabulls were dancing around the hall.

Tarius smiled at her. "You did say you didn't care," Tarius reminded her.

Hestia nodded, clapped her hands, and musicians started to play. Music filled the air, and then Hestia clapped her hands again and six scantily clad Kartik women came out dancing. "For your entertainment," Hestia said to the reigning Katabull leader. Tarius nodded in appreciation. The Marching Night went crazy with wolf whistles and yells. Jena noticed Tarius paying particular attention to one of the dancers and slapped her.

"Ow!" Tarius said rubbing her shoulder as if wounded.

"You keep your eyes over here," Jena said pointing at herself.

Tarius smiled at her. "But my dear love, you're not dancing . . . I'd of course much rather see you dance."

"All right then, I will." Jena had downed just enough wine to think it was a good idea. She had learned all of the Kartik dancing moves, and could dance as well if not better than any of these girls, and she showed them all she could. When she started to dance, the Marching Night got still louder. Soon all of them were dancing around, including Tarius who was dancing with Jena in a manner that was almost—but not quite—sex.

Hestia looked at Dirk and shrugged. "Oh, well then . . . " She got up, took his hand, and they too started to dance.

A good time was had by all.

* * *

Hestia was walking through the courtyard early the next morning, just looking at her garden and thinking. As luck would have it, Tarius's consort was doing the same thing, and again wearing almost the same dress. It was starting to become embarrassing.

"Good morning," Jena said curtsying.

"Good morning," the queen nodded back. The girl still had court manners. "So, how does someone like you wind up with someone like Tarius the Black?"

Jena laughed. "I'm assuming you don't mean that in a hateful way." She stopped to smell a rose and smiled.

"Not at all. But you are Jethrik. Definitely a lady . . ."

"Oh, you should only talk to my father if you think I was ever a lady. I was sort of a tomboy, actually. But yes, I was of the gentry," Jena said.

"She's not. She's Katabull, Kartik, and a trained killer."

"So am I. Not Katabull or Kartik, but a trained killer," Jena said.

"Ah! But you weren't always. Jethrik women aren't allowed to fight. You have a kind face, a gentleness about you that while it may be somewhat deceptive, is there none-the-less. Your mate has neither quality about her," Hestia said.

Jena laughed again. "See, now? You don't know her the way I do. Yes, she is relentless, even ruthless when it comes to her enemies. But there is nothing she wouldn't do for a friend. True, she is vindictive, but she will show mercy if you can prove you acted against your will or have repented. The Katabull say you can see the merit of a person by their true friends. When the king tried to execute Tarius, the king's own wizard and surgeon conspired to save her. Harris, Arvon, Dustan, myself—we all changed our lives forever to be with her. She is very kind, but only to those who deserve it. As for her gentleness," Jena smiled wickedly. "As I said, you don't know her like I do."

Hestia laughed. "I'm still curious. How did the two of you get together?"

"It's a very long story," Jena said.

Hestia sat down on a bench in the garden and patted the seat beside her. "I've got time."

Jena sat down next to the queen. "All right, then, but I did warn you. You see, in the beginning I didn't even know she was a woman, much less the Katabull . . ."

When Jena had finished, Hestia knew all about the true nature of her new ally, and had no doubts about either Tarius's integrity or her abilities.

"Well, it certainly was a long story, but not at all a boring one. You are very lucky to have kept each other through it all," Hestia said.

"Yes we are," Jena said with a smile. "I'd better go. If she wakes up and I'm not there, she runs around looking for people to kill. Life with her does have a few drawbacks."

Hestia watched Jena go almost with envy. Jena had passion, and she had adventure. Hestia had neither; she had only duty. Her father had died when she was only sixteen, and she assumed the throne. Before that, her life had been filled with school and sword training. After that, her life had been filled with decisions and responsibilities. Even her relationship with Dirk was not so much a love match as it was a convenience. Oh, she cared for him, and he for her, but there was nothing close to the depth of feeling these two fighters held for each other. There was nothing to bring them that close; nothing had tried to rip them apart. Neither of them had ever come close to death. They didn't rely on each other to watch their backs except in a political way.

Hestia decided to make the time to find some passion and adventure and add it to her life. The problem with living a safe life was that it kept you from really living at all.

She decided there would be more dancing.

* * *

The ships were loaded, and they were preparing to take to sea.

Arvon had already told Tarius that he and Dustan would not be going. Dustan couldn't handle the sea even with Kartik seasickness potions, and Arvon wouldn't leave him behind. Tarius not only understood, but she had anticipated their decision and had come up with a plan that would benefit everyone. While the Marching Night was at sea, Arvon and Dustan would take a troop of fifty men and Katabull and comb the shores, cleaning them of any Amalites they found and assuring that no new Amalite beachheads could be established.

Both fronts, land and sea, were being funded directly by the queen.

Tarius divided her people and the queen's people evenly among the ships. To ensure that all pre-sailing problems were addressed, Tarius's ship would leave last.

Before embarking, Tarius stood at the main lodge and addressed all the Katabull. "We will return frequently with more ships. I will handle what I can when I am at port, but in my absence any urgent decisions shall be settled by Jerrad. When we return we will leave some of you, and others will go back out with us. We will do this until every Amalite has been driven from the sea, and their homeports are utterly and completely destroyed. No longer shall they blight our land or threaten our future."

The crowd cheered. Tarius nodded to those assembled, and she and the Marching Night headed for their ship. This was their ship, manned almost entirely from their pack. They would take the most dangerous waters. There were ten Kartik soldiers with them whose duty it was to sail back any captured prize. When they had captured a second, they would bring both ships back and take a short break.

Harris followed directly behind Tarius; he had been trying to talk to her all day. "Tarius . . . Tarius!" he said.

"What is it Harris?" Tarius asked a bit annoyed. She was busy checking the last minute details with her herald.

"I'm . . . I'm not going."

Tarius stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him. "Excuse me? What did you say?"

"I'm not going," Harris said.

"What about Elise? What does she say about this?" Tarius looked around and realized Elise was nowhere in sight. "Where's Elise?"
"She's not going, either," Harris said. "In fact, her not going is why I'm not going."

"Why not? Did I do something to hurt her feelings? Yours?" Tarius asked. "Have I done anything to either of you? If I have, I apologize. I know I've been busy, but . . ."
"You have done nothing, Tarius," Harris said with a smile. He took her shoulder in his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"She's pregnant isn't she?" Jena asked.

Tarius looked at her then back at Harris who was nodding. "She just told me. She thought if I couldn't give you advance notice that I would go with you, but I can't, Tarius. I can't, and I won't. When she was shot I left her to bleed on the field and followed you into battle. I won't leave her behind again, not now. What if something should go wrong? What if we get stuck out at sea, and I don't get home in time . . ."

"You need not explain," Tarius kissed him on the check. "This is where you need to be. I will do without you for the time being, though it won't be easy."

Harris had tears in his eyes, as did Tarius. Jena suddenly realized that they hadn't been separated for more than a few days since Tarius had come to the academy all those years ago.

They hugged for a long time, then Tarius pushed away and straightened. "I need two volunteers!" Tarius screamed out.

Fifty ran forward, and she chose two. "Quickly go and get your gear and say your good- byes. We sail with the tide."

Tarius hugged Harris again. "I love you, Harris."

"I love you, too. Come back whole," Harris cried openly now.

Tarius nodded silently and started back towards the docks and her ship. She cried as soon as Harris was out of sight, and Jena put an arm around her.

"I'm happy for them," Tarius cried.

"I know," Jena said.

"It's just . . ." Her sentence died on a sob.

"I know that, too," Jena said.

* * *

The sea was rough, and even the most steadfast seamen where throwing up their lunch. Jena was right along with them. Tarius barked out orders, and they brought down all but the storm sail, secured all cargo, and tied off the masts.

Tarius walked over to where Jena stood against the railings. "Jena! Get below," she screamed over the roar of the waves.

"No. Please, Tarius; I'm so sick," Jena said.

"Find a bucket and get below. It's only going to get worse, and I'm sending all the sick below. The last thing I need is you going overboard into that," she said pointing at the churning sea. Jena looked where Tarius was pointing and threw up again. Tarius let her finish, then grabbed her by the back of her shirt and forcibly hauled her below.

The storm raged all through the night, and it was only close sailing and Tarius's cool head that kept them from foundering as the storm drove them further and further off course and towards the Jethrik coast.

Dawn brought calm seas and enough light to see how much damage they'd taken. They were taking on water, and needed to put in for repairs as soon as possible.

With the calmer seas, Jena felt better. She found Tarius in the captain's quarters going over charts and maps with the ship's helmsman. Tarius looked haggard and frustrated. Jena walked over, wrapped her arms around Tarius's waist and lay her head on her back. Tarius clasped her arm with a free hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Feeling better?" Tarius asked.

"Yes, thank you. You look like you could use some sleep, my love," Jena said.

"Not just yet. The ship's taken a lot of damage, and we need to dock her," Tarius said. "I just hope the rest of our ships missed the worst of it."

"If it's any consolation, Leader, I think we bore the brunt of the storm, and the others probably missed most of it as they left earlier," the helmsman said.

"You did a damned fine job keeping us afloat," Tarius said.

"So we're going home." Jena shrugged. "I mean it's maddening that we didn't even get to fight one boatload of Amalites, but surely nothing to look so glum about."

Tarius gently removed Jena's hands and turned to face her. "The ship won't make it home. The storm blew us way off course, and the closest port of call is Wolf Harbor . . ."

"But that's in the Jethrik! Not a day's ride from . . . home," Jena said. "Tarius, we can't go there. If you are seen, the king will have you killed!"

"He's tried that before," Tarius said with a smile. "He won't have any better luck now. I will stay on the ship. Our people know how to keep their mouths shut, and hopefully none will be the wiser."

"Isn't there any other way? Even a Jethrik port further away from the capital?"

"We might make it, but why take the chance? Jena, the ship is taking on water, and we can't pump the water out fast enough. There's a breach in the hull that a temporary patch won't seal. We'll be lucky if it can be fixed without dry-dock and full-scale repairs," Tarius said.

Jena nodded reluctantly.

* * *

They docked, and the helmsman set out in search of a shipwright to fix the battered vessel. It was taking on water fast now, and it was obvious that the ship would have to be dry-docked for repair. During high tide they guided it into the log stocks that would hold it, and when the tide ebbed, the ship could be worked on.

Tarius and Jena stayed on the ship while the others ventured out under strict orders not to speak of who they were traveling with, who they were, or what they were doing. If anyone asked, they were tradesmen blown into the wrong port by the storm after having to dump their cargo at sea.

Jena looked out at the land she had once called home. She would never tell Tarius, but she longed to go ashore and revisit those familiar sights and sounds, but she dare not leave the ship for fear of being recognized. They were like sitting ducks here—out of the water with no horses. The day was warm and sunny, showing no signs of the horrible storm that had driven them here. She stood on the bow of the ship looking out at the town with more than a little longing. If nothing else, she was tired of being on the ship. They had been here a whole week, and she was beginning to believe the ship would never float again. The rest of the crew were running around the town spending their money on all sorts of fun things while she and Tarius were stuck here alone most of the time. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, except that Jena was just sick to death of being trapped on the ship. She admitted to herself that if she could have left the ship, she probably wouldn't have wanted to. But since she couldn't leave the ship, the land seemed to call out to her, compelling her.

Tarius walked up behind Jena and wrapped her arms around her. She rested her head on Jena's right shoulder. "Bored?"

"Ah no . . . Not at all . . . OK. Yes, yes incredibly bored," Jena said with a sigh.

Tarius held her tighter. "I have a cure for boredom."

"Yes, you certainly do. But, you know what, honey? We can't just do that all day every day," Jena said.

"We could try," Tarius said.

"You know how they say you can't wear it out? Well, I think you're trying," Jena laughed.

"All right . . . So, do you have any better ideas?" Tarius said.

"Actually, no . . . Race you to our quarters," Jena said, wrestling out of Tarius's arms and running for the cabin. Tarius chased after her. The shipwright and the workmen just laughed and shook their heads.

* * *

Three days later the repairs were finished, and they were tied to the docks, properly afloat.

"This is it! Go out have a good time, but come in early. We leave with the tide before dawn. May the Nameless One be merciful to the swine I have to go find before we can leave—because I won't be. If you're hung over in the morning then you'll punish yourself," Tarius said addressing the crew. The bulk of the Marching Night left in spite of Tarius's warning. Enough stayed to leave adequate protection for the ship and their leader.

It was still light when they left, and Tarius stood at the end of the gangplank and watched them go. Jena walked up beside her. "Half the bastards will come in drunk," Tarius said with a sigh.

"At least the Katabull haven't been drinking."

Tarius nodded. After a moment, she looked down the side of the boat across the deck in the direction of the capital. "The bastard is less than half a day's ride away, Jena. It would be so easy to get in, kill him, and leave him bleeding on the floor of his own throne room. We could be gone before anyone was the wiser, but I promised Robert I wouldn't kill him."

"No. You promised Robert you'd go to Kartik, and you did," Jena said. Personally, she wanted to see Persius drawn and quartered, and knew the Marching Night could easily get in, do the deed and get out again before the palace guard even knew what had happened.

Tarius laughed. "Those were his words, but I knew his meaning, Jena. He risked a great deal by helping me, and who knows if I would have lived at all if it hadn't been for him? I can't . . . I won't break my word to him. Not only the letter of my promise, but the intent must be safe with me. So Persius will continue to live. But how much joy does he get from his life when he knows that I am alive, and that I possess both the motive and the means to kill him?"

"He deserves to die." Jena rubbed the spot on Tarius's side where the arrow had done its damage. "Nice and slow."

"And that's precisely what he's doing," Tarius said with a satisfied smile.

* * *

Darian rode alone into Wolf Harbor. Most of his life he had lived a stone's throw from the port but had steered clear of it, having no desire to mingle with the riff-raff and foreigners who lived and traded in and around the docks.

Now he came here twice a month trying to learn anything he could about Jena. Stories of Tarius and her deeds flowed like wine in the pubs, and tales of the Marching Night were commonplace. He even occasionally heard stories about Harris and Arvon, but there was little news about Tarius's woman except that she was of the Jethrik and beautiful. And that didn't, necessarily, mean that she was Jena.

He had learned much about the Kartik on his trips here. He'd even picked up a bit of their language. Although he hadn't learned enough to carry on a conversation, he could usually get the gist of theirs.

Darian tethered his horse at a pub he liked to frequent and went inside. It was usually a quiet pub with few customers, where he could listen to others gossip. He was a little startled when he first walked in because tonight it was packed to bulging with Kartiks. A second look told him they weren't sailors, either, although they were dressed the part. Under their brightly colored shirts and puffy pants he could make out the outlines of armor, and their swords were too finely made and too well cared for to belong to mere fishing men or the crew of a trader. They were also too well muscled in the arms and upper torso to be anything but fighters. But why so many, and why here?

Darian carefully made his way to the bar where he ordered an ale and grabbed the bartender gently by the arm when he brought it. He leaned in close. "What's all this then?" he asked indicating the crowd in the pub.

"Ah, don't mind them any, Master Darian. It's just a Kartik trader's crew doing a little celebrating. Their ship came up lame in the storm and they had to dump their payload. Their ship's been in dry dock a little over a week and it just came to the docks today. They'll ship out tomorrow, so they're getting in the last of their partying. Of course, between you and me, they've been in here like this most every night they've been here, and they've been spending money left and right."

"Now that's funny, isn't it? You wouldn't expect them to be free spending considering they lost their payload. Are they taking anything back to Kartik with them?"
"No, apparently the lost shipment and the cost of repairs has left the captain with no money to bring anything back with him to Kartik," the barkeep said.

"Yet the sailors have money to throw away," Darian said thoughtfully.

The bartender shrugged. "It'd be the captain's loss, not the crew's. It's a mighty fine ship. Huge. Three masts it has!"

The bartender ran off then to take care of one of the Kartiks, and Darian saw that the man had a sword scar on his chin. He looked back at Darian, glaring at him, and Darian looked quickly away. Then one of the Kartiks came up and touched Darian's sword making some derogatory remark about the workmanship.

His fellows apparently said something about not causing trouble, but he was too drunk to listen. He tried to pull Darian's sword from its scabbard, and Darian turned, quickly drawing steel. The young man started to draw steel as well, and immediately three of his fellows were on him, dragging him away and mumbling an apology to Darian. Darian nodded and returned his steel to its sheath; he realized he was sweating.

Thank the gods! I haven't done anything but practice in ten years. I'll drink my beer, and I'll go. I wouldn't want to strike steel with one of these women much less the men.

Just then a drunken Jethrik wandered into the bar.

"What the hell is all this crap then, Amos? You only serve Kartik sea swine now?" he slurred.

He grabbed hold of one of the young women's arms. "Out of my way, you Kartik whore!"

The young woman threw the man into the bar, breaking a stool that happened to be in the way. The drunk just lay there groaning as the Kartik woman yelled things at him that Darian only partially understood.

One of the older ones shouted at all the others. Darian could only make out part of what he said, but apparently he was threatening them with return to the ship if they didn't show a little restraint.

The man sitting at the bar beside Darian turned to his fellow and whispered something that was lost to Darian in the noise of the bar, all that is except the name Tarius. All the color drained from Darian's face. Could it be? Could they be the Marching Night? If so, what could Tarius and her people want here except to storm the castle and kill Persius? And it's like Tarius to pretend to have a crippled ship; to wait for the right time to strike. But the barkeep said they were leaving in the morning.

Of course this is all speculation. It's probably not Tarius at all, and these people are not the Marching Night. I'm a foolish old man who has let my imagination run away with me. A foolish old man who wants to see his daughter just once more before he dies.

He paid for his ale without finishing it and left. Then he walked down to the docks just to see the ship. The barkeep hadn't lied; it was huge.

Darian was a little taken aback. The ship was Amalite in design, but clearly had Kartik sails and flags. Then he saw her; a Jethrik woman standing on the bow of the ship looking out at the town, and he didn't have to get any closer to know it was his Jena. He ducked into some shadows and watched her until she went into the cabin.

* * *

It was late, and most of the crew had come in. Jena was asleep, and Tarius sat in the log room going over the charts and calculating how long it would take them to get back where they needed to be in order to get raided.

Damn! We don't have enough supplies to stay out to do more than one ship! Besides if we're not back in port when we are supposed to be, everyone will assume we have been captured or killed.

She sighed and leaned back in her throne rubbing her brow. The night was hot, and even with the cabin window open she was sweating. She sat at the table wearing only a pair of brightly striped puffy pants and her sword on her back.

A sharp knock came on the door, and she jumped. She looked at the charts again before she answered.

"What is it?" Tarius asked impatiently.

"Great Leader . . ."

"Rimmy, what did I tell you?" she asked hotly.

"Sorry, Tarius," he said.

"Don't just stand there! Come in."

Rimmy and Tweed came in and dumped the load they carried on the ground in front of Tarius's table.

Tarius looked up at Tweed expectantly.

"We found this old man trying to get on the ship," Tweed said.

"Well, lift him up here so I can see him," Tarius said.

They lifted the man up off the floor.

"Did he put up a fight, or were you just in the mood to kick some ass?" Tarius asked angrely.

"He put up one hell of a fight for an old man. Took three of us to get his sword out of his hand," Rimmy said.

Tarius nodded. "I have many enemies in the Jethrik. You have done right to capture him." She thought for a moment, and then spoke in the Jethrik tongue. "So, old man, what business do you have with me, my ship or my crew?"

Darian looked up then right into the face of Tarius the Black. She was wilder than he remembered and harder, but there was no mistaking her. She sat there in a huge fur covered chair wearing nothing on her torso but the sword across her back. She had a gold ring in one of her nipples, one in her eyebrow, and three in her left ear. He had learned that multiple piercings were a sign of power and wealth among the Kartiks. Tarius had apparently acquired both. She was bronze and dark and hauntingly beautiful. Finally he saw the scar where the arrow had pierced her.

"I asked you a question, old man. I believe in giving everyone a fair chance. However if you do not answer me, I shall have my men kill you, and in the morning we will dump you somewhere between here and the Kartik for fish bait. What business have you with me, my ship or my crew?"

"I only have business with you." Darian looked into and caught Tarius's eyes. "Do you not recognize me, Tarius? I took you into my home, and I loved you like a son. I gave you my daughter, and you betrayed me."

Tarius was instantly on her feet. "You! How dare you!" Tarius started to breathe so hard that he could hear her every breath. "Who betrayed who? You took me into your home to bring you honor, and I did. I loved you as a father. Your daughter was never yours to give, she gave herself. What the hell did you hope to gain by coming to this ship?"

She switched to Kartik without a pause. "Quick, Rimmy, sound the alarm, and have the ship searched. Get our people back on board as soon as possible. This is some sort of trap."

Rimmy nodded and ran off.

Darian got the gist of Tarius's orders if not the particulars.

"I came alone. No one knows I am here," Darian said.

"Why would I believe you, old man?" Tarius spat out with venom. "After all you have done to me, after all you did to Jena . . ."

"I am the injured party here."

"After all this time, you still think that?" Tarius laughed. "Are you really that big a fool?"

"I want to see my daughter. After that, do to me whatever you want," Darian said. "Will you allow her to see me, or is she your prisoner, too?" he asked holding up his tied hands where she could see them.

"Jena has never been my prisoner, Darian," Tarius hissed. "Only you and Tragon ever tried to keep Jena prisoner. You should know better than anyone else that Jena could never be caged."

Tarius walked over and grabbed a black shirt from a chair, slung it on and tied it. "Tweed, go and get Jena."

"Yes, Great Leader," he said and left the cabin.

A few minutes later Jena ran in. She was wearing a blue and red silk robe that came to just above her knees and her sword was in her hand.

Tweed took up a position at the door.
"What in hell is going on?" Jena asked running to Tarius's side.

For answer Tarius nodded her head towards Darian.

Jena looked at him, not recognizing him with a beard and in the dim light. The recent beating didn't help, either. "A stow away? What?"
"It's your father, Jena," Tarius said in the Kartik tongue.

Jena took a second look, and she moved still closer to Tarius. "The bastard! Has he brought the kingdom upon us?"

"I don't think so. I have the crew looking to make sure, but I think he just wants to see you."

"Well, I don't wish to see him," Jena shot him a hateful look.

Darian got the gist of their conversation.

"Why don't you want to speak to me? Is there no room in your heart for forgiveness?" Darian asked. "What I did to you . . . With Tarius, encouraging you . . . Pushing you towards him . . . her. Then making you marry Tragon . . . It was wrong. All wrong, and I'm sorry."

It took Jena a second to remember her Jethrik. "Where did you learn Kartik?"

"I know just a little. I learned it hanging out on the docks here hoping to hear some news of you," Darian said.

Jena looked at Tarius and spoke. "See why I don't want to talk to him? He still thinks what he did to you was all right. He thinks you and I together is a mistake. Throw him off the ship."

"I can't; he knows too much," Tarius said. "And we both know he can't be trusted."

"We could kill him," Jena said angrily.

Tarius made a face. "We will not kill your father, Jena."

"Then what?" Jena asked.

Rimmy ran in then. "Great Leader . . ."

Tarius sighed. "What is it Rimmy?"

"Great Leader. All are on board and accounted for. No army or forces found. We are awaiting your orders."

"Weigh anchor and hoist the sails. We head out tonight," Tarius said. She glared at Darian. "Why take any chances?"

"Aye, aye." Rimmy ran off.

Darian finally figured out what had been said. "Leave? You're going to leave port? You're going to kidnap me the way you did my daughter?"

Tarius had started for the door, but she turned in the doorway. "I was in the Kartik when your daughter came looking for me there. Jena wants to be with me, and that is the crime I have committed for which you cannot forgive me. I have to go to the helm." She glared at Darian and turned again to leave.

"Rimmy, keep an eye on him."

Jena glared at her father, and he glared back. Except for her coloring, he might as well have been looking at a Kartik. Jena had six gold rings in her right ear and three in her left. Her hands were callused and covered with sword cut scars.

She moved to sit in the big chair Tarius had been sitting in, and she set her sword on the table in front of her as if daring him to try and grab it.

"Can I sit down? I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Rimmy, get him a chair, please," Jena said.

Rimmy nodded and did as he was asked. Darian sat down slowly, favoring his right side.

"You know I never told them that it was you who killed Tragon. I blamed it on Tarius, and they believed me. You could have come home at any time," Darian said.

"Don't you get it, Father? I wanted everyone to know I killed Tragon. I'm glad I killed him. Because of him Tarius was very nearly killed, my whole world was turned upside down. The bastard killed my child. Do you know what it's like to have something alive in you one minute, and then have it painfully thrown from your body? To have to put that tiny dead thing into the earth, burying the dreams you had for a child in a grave?" Jena asked. She choked back her tears.

"If you are not a prisoner, then leave with me now. Let Tarius go where the wind blows her, but you stay here in the Jethrik with me," Darian pleaded.

Jena got up and started pacing the room. "Haven't you listened to a word I've said? I don't want to be here. I love the Kartik. The Marching Night is my pack. Tarius is my mate, my lover, the only one I have ever wanted or will ever want. I love Tarius. I love her because she is a woman. I love her because she is the Katabull. I love her because she is Tarius the Black. And do you know what, Father? She loves me. That wonderful, damn-near goddess-like person loves me. She worships the ground I walk on, and what is so damn awful about that?" Jena grabbed her sword up and started to leave the room, but she turned in the doorway. "What the hell are we going to do with you?"

She turned to Rimmy. "Take him to the hold and lock him up. You're needed on deck."

* * *

Darian felt the ship pull away from the docks even as he was being locked in a cell in the hold. They didn't leave a guard, but one look at the lock and bars told Darian he wasn't likely to get out.

Where the hell would I go if I did get out? I'm out at sea surrounded by the most fearsome group of fighters ever assembled. Hell, most of them are probably Katabull.

Jena appeared at the door to his cell with a cup. "Ever been at sea before?"

"Not since I was a lad," Darian answered.

"Better drink this then. It's a Kartik tonic. It tastes vile, but it beats the hell out of sea sickness." She handed it through the bars to him, and their hands touched. She quickly drew hers away.

"Thank you," Darian took the cup. His hands were still tied, and he had trouble getting it to his mouth. When he had finished it he handed the cup back.

Jena sighed. "Here, let me untie your hands."

He held them out, and she untied them. As soon as they were loose, he grabbed her hand without warning, and she moved swiftly, banging his head into the bars. Darian stumbled back rubbing his head.

"I wasn't going to hurt you!" Darian protested.

"Then I'm sorry," Jena said.

Darian looked sad. "You've seen a lot of action, haven't you?"

"I've seen my share," Jena said noncommittally.

"Is Harris . . ."

"He's fine. Married to a Kartik swordswoman, part of the pack of the Marching Night. They're expecting their first child, so they are at home with the Katabull Nation," Jena said. In spite of herself, she was enjoying talking to her father.

"And Arvon?" Darian asked.

"Arvon and Dustan stayed to continue to clean the coast of the Amalite scum," Jena said.

"They're still alive and together then . . . that's good," Darian said in a far away tone.

"All right, Father, explain this one to me. Why are Arvon and Dustan a good thing, and Tarius and I aren't?"

"Because neither of them ever pretended to be anything different. Because neither of them are my only child," Darian said.

"Fine," Jena started to go.

"Wait, Jena . . . I'm sorry," Darian looked at the floor. "Tell me what you and Tarius and the Marching Night are doing at sea in an Amalite vessel? You've fixed it up to look like a Kartik freighter, but it was originally Amalite."

Jena was silent.

"Who can I tell?" Darian asked.

"We are working with Queen Hestia and the Kartik army. We have five such ships, which the Katabull captured from the Amalites. The Amalites have been raiding Kartik ships. When they raid our ships, they will get a surprise," Jena said.

"I'll give her this; she's clever," Darian said with a laugh.

"You'd better decide she's more than that, or this will be a very long trip for you, and when we get to the Kartik I'll have Hestia throw you into the darkest dungeon in her castle," Jena promised.

"You have that kind of pull with the queen, do you?" Darian scoffed.

Jena smiled wickedly. "Haven't you heard what the crew are calling her, father? My mate, Tarius, is the queen's most powerful ally, because she is the chosen leader of the Katabull Nation. Hestia will do anything I ask her to do just to keep Tarius happy."

* * *

Jena went to bed and went to sleep. When she woke up Tarius was with her, but Jena didn't remember her coming in. She got up as carefully as possible so as not to wake Tarius. She dressed in puffy pants and a wrap around shirt, slung her sword on her back and went barefooted up on the deck, only to find her father standing on the bow looking out to sea. Jena ran up to him. "How did you get out?" Jena demanded. She was about to call for someone to come and get him and lock him up when her father answered her, not bothering to turn around.

"Tarius released me. Said she saw no sense in keeping me in lock up since I couldn't go anywhere," Darian said.

"Tarius . . . What in the gods' names was she thinking? Why, you'd kill her in her sleep if given half a chance," Jena said.

Darian turned then. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing."

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you condoned . . . No, demanded that she be executed for the great crime of loving me. Or maybe it's because you held me still with your hand over my mouth while you gleefully watched your precious ruler stick an arrow through her body while she was stocked and tied to the back of a wild horse. Maybe because you watched as that horse dragged her off through the underbrush and did nothing but cheer. She may trust you, but I most certainly do not. In my eyes, you're no better than an Amalite. Worse, because Tarius never turned a stone to hurt you." Jena stomped back down the deck towards the hold. Halfway there she stopped, and without turning around said with venom, "You so much as look at her the wrong way, old man, and I'll kill you myself."

Darian watched as she disappeared from sight. He didn't know what he had expected when he tried to sneak on the ship to steal Jena last night, but it certainly wasn't this. Jena hated him. She was not being held captive by Tarius or the Marching Night. She was here only because she wanted to be here. She loved the man, woman, beast, human—whatever. Truly loved her, so much so that she would renounce her kin and her country.

That being the case, what real crime had Tarius committed against him? He had lost face, and he had lost his daughter. But how much of that was Tarius's fault, and how much of it was his own?

He was stuck with them now, because they would never let him go back to the Jethrik. Darian wondered who would run the school. What would they think had happened to him when they found his horse at the dockside with him nowhere in sight? His whole life had changed, and only one thing was really clear. If he didn't want to spend the remainder of his life in a dungeon in Kartik, he had better find a way to forgive Tarius the Black and get Jena to forgive him.

* * *

"But why? Why did you do that?" Jena demanded, nearly screaming.

"Because . . . he's your father, Jena."

"Exactly my point. My father, the man who helped Persius try to kill you. The man who made me marry that awful Tragon!" She was screaming now.

"If you could forgive me, you can forgive him," Tarius said looking up at Jena from where she was sitting on the deck working on her armor.

"It's not the same, Tarius," Jena said, breaking Tarius's gaze. She started pacing back and forth in front of Tarius, waving her hands wildly in the air. She had all of Tarius's attention now, her armor repair temporarily forgotten.

"It is the same," Tarius insisted. "I'm sure that in his eyes what I did was much worse than what he has done."

"You didn't order him killed," Jena said. "You didn't stand by and ignore the fact that Tragon was going to rape me. Didn't stand ideally by and do nothing while he killed my baby, and you never would have."

"But I wasn't there for you, Jena," Tarius said in a low voice.

"But that wasn't your fault, Tarius. It was at least in part his fault that you weren't there with me. You weren't there—you don't know how he pleaded with the king for your death." She started pacing again. "Why the hell did he have to come on our ship? Another few hours and we would have been gone. Now we're stuck with him, and it just makes me want to scream."

Tarius let out a growl and jumped up. She ran to Jena, grabbing her and throwing her over her shoulder.

"Tarius," Jena laughed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Tarius just growled and continued carrying Jena towards the cabin as the crew whistled and yelled.

Jena laughed and shook her head. "But it's the middle of the day! What about your armor?"

"You do something to me when the fire's in your eyes," Tarius said in a low voice.

"Well, in that case," Jena started playing at getting away.

#

Seeing Jena struggling against Tarius as Tarius started to carry her off below, Darian made a move to go "rescue" his daughter.

"You'll only embarrass yourself, old man," a woman said in Jethrik as she grabbed hold of his arm. "She's not hurting Jena, and she's certainly not forcing her. They're just playing a little game."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked.

"Because I've been riding with them for three years now. I know you'd like to believe different, but Jena is with Tarius because she wants to be. Tarius doesn't have to force her," she said.

"I'm beginning to understand that, but . . . a game?"

"We Kartik like our sex," she said with a smile. "My name's Radkin, and you are?"

"Darian," he said simply. "At home I have much wealth. Help me get back to my homeland with my daughter, and I will make sure the deed does not go unrewarded."

Radkin laughed. "First off, I have no idea how one would go about doing that. Trying to get Jena away from The Great leader, I mean. If Jena didn't kill you, Tarius most surely would. Second, I don't think you understand the nature of the pack of the Marching Night. None of us would betray Tarius, not for any amount of money. Not for anything. Every one of us would give our life for her—or for Jena for that matter. As they would for us. Riding with her, to be part of the Marching Night, is to know that you are the best. That you are a part of the greatest fighting force ever assembled, and no one I know would give that up. Third, if you are going to ask one of the Marching Night to betray Tarius, at least have the good sense not to ask the Katabull." Radkin smiled at the look of shock on Darian's face.

"She is queen of the Katabull?" Darian asked.

"She is our Great Leader," Radkin answered.

"Is she a good leader then?" Darian asked curiously. "I know in battle she is one of the best."

"In battle she is the best. And as leader she is the best. Understand this, Tarius was not set upon the throne without much thought. She didn't beg for the position, she pleaded against it. What better leader could you ask for than one who doesn't want the power?" she said.

Katabull logic he presumed. "Where did you learn to speak Jethrik?" Darian asked.

"Working the docks in Kartik," Radkin said.

"Do all of the women there do men's work then?" he asked.

Radkin stared at him. "Men's work? What does that mean? Work doesn't belong to men or to women, but to both. What a strange culture you must live in! Men's work indeed! Next you'll be telling me they have women's work as well." She laughed.

"Is that," Darian pointed in the direction Tarius and Jena had gone. "Is that common, too, where you come from?"

"Game play? Why sure! As I said, we Kartik like our sex, and you have to keep it fresh, don't you?" Radkin said.

"I meant women with women and men with men," Darian said.

"Oh, aye . . . Very common. Especially among the Katabull. Roughly two thirds of the Katabull are queer, myself included," she said.

"How do you propagate?" Darian asked curiously.

"Cross mating," Radkin said with a shrug.

"What's that?" Darian asked, ashamed to show his ignorance.

"One couple is female, one couple is male, and they cross mate with each other. We have the children together, and all four raise them. Cross mating. It makes the cubs strong, and makes sure they get lots of attention."

Darian kept asking questions about the island and their culture and Radkin happily answered him.

Truly it was a different world his daughter had been living in. No wonder she was so changed. No wonder she wasn't embarrassed about her relationship with Tarius. It was normal on the island. According to Radkin, Jena was the envy of every queer woman in the Kartik, and there were apparently plenty of them.

Rimmy ran up to them. "Radkin, Jasper thinks he sees something from the crow's nest."

Radkin nodded and ran off. Darian watched as she scurried up the ropes into the crow's nest. She took the glass from the man, looked a second and then screamed out, "Amalites off the starboard bow and closing fast!"

Both Radkin and Jasper slipped down the ropes to the deck. Everyone everywhere seemed to change places as the Kartik soldiers moved to look like a typical Kartik sailing crew, and the Marching Night ran below.

"You'd better come with me." Radkin took Darian by the arm and dragged him below. He watched as the hand on his arm changed, became thicker, hairier. When he turned he was looking into the face of the Katabull.

"Rimmy! Go get Tarius and Jena."

Rimmy had changed as well.

"Do I have to? You know they're going to be . . ."

"Just go get them," Radkin ordered.

Rimmy turned to go after them just as Tarius arrived pulling on her armor. Jena was right behind her doing the same.

"Did anyone get my knee cop off the deck?" Tarius asked.

"Here Great Leader," Tweed said handing it to her. Tweed also was the Katabull.

"Thank you." Tarius nodded as she took it from him.

They were armored faster than any army Darian had ever seen.

"Give me my sword, and I will help you," Darian said. "The Amalites are my enemy as well."

"No," Jena said. "You'd as likely kill Tarius as one of them."

Tarius was busy giving orders, and slowly the fighters started to sneak back out on deck. They went on hands and knees crawling up against the edge of the ship's rails, out of sight of the Amalite raiding ship.

Tarius seemed to look down at her feet, and as she raised her head she was the Katabull as well. She looked at Darian and smiled. "Wait till you see me sling steel as the Katabull."

She kissed Jena on the cheek, and then together they crawled onto the deck.

* * *

Faced with only a token resistance, the Amalites got their grappling hooks into their prize and pulled the ships together. The Kartik soldiers did their part by running around and looking mortified and panicked. When the first Amalite foot touched their ship, Tarius gave the call, and the Marching Night attacked. Darian watched from the cabin as long as he could stand it, then he grabbed a mop, broke the head off it and ran into the fray.

Nothing, absolutely nothing moved like the Katabull. Up sails, up ropes, over rails and barrels and each other. And no Katabull moved like Tarius the Black. Tarius leapt over the rail and into the enemy ship, slicing the first man she fell on almost in half. Punching the second in the face with the hilt of her sword so hard that she drove part of his face into his brain, killing him instantaneously. Then she was everywhere, and so, he noticed was Jena. The oddest thing was that Tarius seemed to always be aware of exactly where Jena was and just what was happening to her. At one point in the battle Jena was easily holding her own against not one but two men. Tarius appeared swinging in on a rope and killed them both before moving on. For his part, Darian helped to keep the Amalites from coming onto the Kartik ship. He slapped one man in the head with enough force to daze him and pushed another back into the boat.

In minutes the battle was over. The Katabull took no prisoners. The Amalite bodies were tied together, weighted with one of the anchors and dropped into the ocean. They off loaded enough supplies from the Amalite ship to keep them at sea for a while, hopefully long enough to capture another Amalite ship. Half the Kartik soldiers and all the badly wounded boarded their prize. They changed the flags to Kartik banners and then they pointed the ship towards the Kartik. They would tell the others that Tarius and the Marching Night were delayed but well, so that they could stay at sea until they took out another raiding ship. Then they, too, would head for home.

Tarius looked at the bloody stick in Darian's hand and smiled. "Kill any?" she asked him.

"I think maybe one," Darian said, and he smiled back. "It's been a long time since I was in an actual battle."

Tarius nodded and went off to check her troops. She made sure that every minor injury was being cared for. The girl was right. Tarius was a good leader.

"Give me that," Jena grabbed the stick from his hand. "Leave it to you to wield a Katabull killing weapon."

"It was all I had," Darian defended. "Damn it, daughter! I am trying to understand. I'm trying; can't you give in just a little?"

"She's too much like you, Darian," Tarius said in his ear. She was still the Katabull. In fact, none of them seemed like they were in any hurry to change back.

"What a horrible thing to say, Tarius!" Jena turned on her heel and stomped off.

"See what I mean?" Tarius asked Darian in a whisper.

"You aren't mad at me any more, are you?" Darian asked more than a little confused.

"I have thought about what we said to each other the other night. I hurt Jena a great deal. If anyone else had hurt her that badly, I would have wanted them dead. I understand that. I could be mad at you for making her marry Tragon, but at least you didn't actually put him in her bed, and I did. Understand this, though. I was trying to give her what she said she wanted. It was never my intention to hurt her. I love her. I can't help myself; she's magnificent. We have both hurt and been hurt," Tarius said. "I never meant to fall in love with Jena, and I certainly didn't want her to fall in love with me. Surely you can see that it was only my love for Jena that was my great undoing."

Darian thought about that a moment and then nodded in reluctant agreement.

"I know it's not what you're used to. I know that our relationship, like the Katabull, is something that is tolerated by your people but never really accepted. But you have to realize that where I come from—in the Kartik—I could have been all that I am. But the Kartik were not at war with the Amalites, and the Jethrik was. My pain over my father's death still raged, and so I left my home to fight your war as my father had done before me, breaking your rules as he, too, had done. I love Jena with all my heart and soul, and I know that she loves me the same. I can give her everything a man could give her. In fact, I can give her more, because I let her be whoever and whatever she wants to be. When the war is over and the land is safe we will even have children if that's what she wants." Tarius stopped for a moment looking out at sea. "So the real question is not whether I'm mad at you, but rather are you still mad at me? Can you try to put aside your hatred of me long enough to see what I really am, instead of what you have decided I am? And then there is the second problem."

"Which is?" Darian asked.

"Can you convince Jena that you are truly sorry for what you did to her?" Tarius said. She turned and walked away. Darian watched her go.

* * *

For the next three days, Jena would not even deign to talk to him. She acted as if he did not exist in her space at all. It was driving Darian mad.

Tarius was on the deck looking out to sea. She had hoped to run into another Amalite raiding party before this. Darian stomped up to her. "Tarius, you were once a Swordmaster. You are a fighter, so you know what I must be going through being separated from my weapon, knowing that if we go into battle my only defense will be whatever I can grab hold of on the ship. Give me my sword."

Tarius turned to look at him, but before she could speak Jena ran between him and Tarius. "You will never hold a sword on this ship while I still take a breath," Jena said.

"Tarius . . . are you the leader or is she?" Darian asked.

"You still don't understand old man. As I have told you once before, Jena's a woman, not a toad. As I am a woman as well why would her will be any greater or smaller than mine in my eyes?" Tarius smiled and clasped her hand on Jena's shoulder. "In matters both great and small I always take Jena's counsel. In matters concerning you, since you are her kin and not mine, I'm afraid the decision is simply not mine to make."

"The Marching Night—are they better than the Swordmasters?"

"There is no comparison whatsoever. The least of the Marching Night could destroy utterly the best of the Jethrik Swordmasters," Tarius said boastfully.

"Then put it to the test. I have seen you playing with practice weapons on the ship. Let me pick my opponent. If I can beat them, then give me my sword," Darian said.

Tarius looked at Jena appealingly. It was a sucker bet. One she could not lose.

"You're on," Jena said and went herself to grab two practice swords from their storage place on the deck. "So, chose your opponent," Jena said.

Darian looked around at the Marching Night. He even looked at Tarius for a second, which made them all grow very quiet. "You, Jena. I pick you."

"Ridiculous!" Tarius screamed. "Preposterous! No! I say no! Pick another opponent."

"Why? Can Jena not hold her own? Is she not part of the Marching Night?" Darian asked.

"Because it's twisted and . . ."

"I'll fight you, old man," Jena threw him the practice blade, "and you will lose."

"Jena, I don't think . . ." Tarius started.

Jena looked at her. "I want this."

Tarius shrugged and stepped back, prepared to watch the old man trounced by his own daughter.

Jena was relentless in her first attack, and Darian was glad they used the hollow bamboo sticks instead of the wooden swords they practiced with at home. Her first blow to his head would have likely driven him head first into the deck if they had. He landed one blow to her stomach, she flinched, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Tarius start forward and then stop when Jena glared at her.

Jena caught him in the head, in the leg, in the stomach and in the head in a combination so fast he had no time to block, and he hit the deck. Jena turned to walk away as the Marching Night cheered.

Darian stumbled to his feet, his nose bleeding. "I'm not done yet."

Jena turned on him, the anger shooting from her eyes reminding Darian of her mother when she was mad. He smiled smugly at her, and she landed on him with a sound blow to his head. Then she sent a flying kick to his stomach. He fell again, and again she walked away.

Darian again crawled to his feet. "I'm still not finished."

Jena spun on him again, this time in a red rage. She battered him in the ribs with a series of blows that again knocked him off his feet, and scalded all the air from his lungs.

This time she stood glaring at him. "Damn you! Stay down."

"Sorry, can't oblige." Darian again crawled to his feet. He threw a blow at her, which she easily blocked, and again she battered him till he fell.

"Stay down!" Jena cried, looking into his bruised and battered face.

But he stood up again, tottering now and unable to stand straight. "So, are you still mad, Jena? Or have you had enough?"

Jena started to swing the sword again, but Tarius was behind her in an instant. She grabbed Jena's arm and took the sword from it. She threw it onto the deck, and Jena collapsed in her arms crying. Tarius held her tight. "Shush, shush! It's all right," Tarius said gently.

"Sosha! Take him below, clean him up and doctor his wounds."

"Rimmy!"

"Yes, Tarius."

"Get this man his sword and some clean clothes. Kartik clothes."

* * *

Darian lay on the deck in the sun in clean if somewhat gaudy clothes. His sword lay by his side on the deck and he hurt everywhere.

Someone strode up to his feet. He shielded the sun out of his eyes and looked up at Jena. It was obvious that she had been crying a good long time. She'd washed her face, but her eyes were red and puffy.

"Why did you do that?" Jena hissed at him. "Did you hope to beat me in front of the Marching Night? Make me look a fool?"

"If I did, then I failed miserably, didn't I Jena?" Darian forced a smile. "You kicked my ass good, and I have to tell you, although I'd rather lie, that I didn't hold back on you. You just really out-class me. In fact, I'd venture to say that you are better than I have ever been, even in my youth."

"You . . . Why would you pick me, then?" Jena asked. "The Katabull all outclass me, but only a few of the Kartik fighters do."

"I knew that. The Katabull woman Radkin told me."

"Then why?" Jena asked.

"Because I need you to forgive me, Jena, and you aren't even trying." Darian moved painfully into a sitting position. "I'm trying to understand about you . . . and Tarius. It's not easy, Jena. This was never what I wanted for you. I thought maybe if you could beat the crap out of me, we could get past the rage."

"You begged Persius to kill Tarius," Jena accused.

"At first you my dear girl didn't argue about her fate. Still, I'm sorry."

"You knew I hated him, and yet you made me marry Tragon."

"And I'm sorry, my only defense is that I thought I was doing the only thing that could be done to repair your good name."

"You didn't protect me from him, you didn't . . . "

"And there is no excuse for that Jena. None at all except that I had no idea he was actually being phisacaly violent until it was too late." He sighed. "If your mother had lived, things . . . you would have been so different. I wanted so much for you and I failed you in every way."

Jena sat on the deck next to him. "What about what I wanted, Father? What about what I wanted for myself? I never wanted the frilly dresses or any of the stuff that went with them. The idea that I might wind up washing clothes and taking care of a man the rest of my life terrified me. Arvon had a good point; he asked me why I thought I was attracted to Tarius in the first place when I had never been attracted to any other man. He told me he thought I fell in love with Tarius not because I thought she was a man, but because she wasn't like a man at all. When I realized he was right, I knew I had to find Tarius and be with her no matter what, and that's what I have done."

Darian sat up and nodded. "Truthfully, Jena, I don't know that I will ever truly understand it. However I have missed you, and I can't lie, I have missed Tarius as well. I can accept the two of you together as long as she continues to make you happy." He looked at her and held out his hand as if to shake. "So, can we call a truce?"

Jena hugged her father. He cringed a little at the pain, but said nothing.

Across the deck Tarius saw them and smiled.

"This is a good thing?" Radkin asked at her shoulder.

"Aye . . . very good. A woman should never hate her father," Tarius said.

"Just because you put him in Kartik clothes does not make him a Kartik, my sister," Radkin said.

Tarius smiled at Radkin and playfully slapped the side of her face. "Ah, my friend, but it is the first step."

 

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