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Chapter 10

Jena had been watching the men ride by the academy all day. With each horseman that turned to enter, she held her breath hoping against hope that it was Tarius. Three days now the men had been arriving, and still no sign of Tarius. The war was over; they had won. The soldiers she spoke to told her that Tarius was fine, and that he was bringing up the rear.

Riders were more and more sparse, and Jena's hope was wearing thin. She saw the king's carriage come into view and she watched as it approached. Tarius had been working closely with the king, perhaps he was with the king now. But as the carriage drew closer, she did not recognize any of the horsemen surrounding the king as her husband.

The carriage stopped at the gates just feet from her. The door opened, and the king himself stepped out.

"You're the wife of my good friend, Sir Tarius the Black, warlord of all the Jethrik, are you not?"

She curtsied. "I am, Sire. If I may ask, do you have any news of my husband?"

"He stays in the field to wipe the Amalites from their hidden pockets all over our lands. I'm sorry that this has taken him away from you, but it is a job that he alone can do properly. He did send you this by my hand."

The king held out several pieces of paper folded together. Jena took them with a shaking hand, and tears dripped down her face. The king lifted her chin with his finger and wiped the tears from her cheek with another. "Dear lady, do not cry. If I know your man, he will have the job done and be home to you in due time. Be proud that you have such a husband. None like him has ever lived before, nor shall such a one ever live again. He plucked an arrow from the sky to save me, and only he would have the nerve and audacity to turn the king into a common messenger boy."

Jena nodded silently. She curtsied again, then turned and started back through the gates into the academy. She walked towards the clearing in the woods, clutching the note tightly to her. He didn't love her. He didn't love her enough to come home to her. Tragon was right. Tarius would rather stay in the field and fight.

She sat down in the middle of the clearing and slowly unfolded the letter. She couldn't stop crying, nor could she keep her hands from shaking.

She couldn't think such things. Tarius did love her, he did. He had a duty to perform, and he was doing it. It was that simple. No conspiracy to stay away from her at all. He wanted to be with her; he did! But he was busy making the country safe for her and for their future family. It was a noble thing that he did, and it still stank.

Jena was a young woman with a young woman's needs and desires. She wanted nothing more than to be with her husband. She would have gladly fought alongside him if such things were allowed, but they weren't, and his desire to fight kept them separated.

Jena dried her eyes and nose on her sleeve and finally looked at the letter.

My dearest love,

I know you may hate me, but I cannot come home now. Not while one Amalite bastard stands on Jethrik soil . . .

 

He went on to give her the events of the war in brief details. The letter ended in a very unexpected way.

Our king is a fool, and because of his foolery the Amalites shall swallow up the entire country. I do not want me or mine there when this happens. For this reason I once again beg you to consider moving with me to Kartik.

I miss you very much. All my love,

Tarius

Jena started to cry again. What did that mean, that he wanted her to consider moving with him to Kartik? Had he made up his mind that he was going, and she could go or stay if she liked? He had said he loved her, he had said he missed her, but most of the letter seemed cold and removed.

"I heard Tarius had decided to stay. I'm very sorry."

Jena's head snapped up at the sound of Tragon's voice, and she stood quickly not wanting to be sitting beneath him. "What are you doing here?" Jena asked hotly.

"Sorry, Jena, but you and Tarius's secret spot just isn't much of a secret," Tragon said harshly. "Didn't I tell you, Jena? Didn't I say he would choose war over you every time?"

"Did you come only to gloat at my misfortune then, Tragon?" Jena asked hotly.

"On the contrary. I have come to comfort you, Jena. You shouldn't be alone now," Tragon tried to smile sweetly, but it looked to Jena more like a snarl.

He had seen an opportunity to pounce, and he was pouncing. Problem was his prey was all too aware of his teeth.

"Comfort me!" Jena scoffed. "I don't need your kind of comforting, Tragon. I have a husband for that, and he will return home soon."

"That's why you're crying I suppose," Tragon said.

"I cry because I miss him, and his gentle words of love have touched my heart," Jena said quickly.

Tragon quickly grabbed the pieces of parchment from her fingers and easily held them out of her reach while he looked at them. "Oh, yes, this is a lovely sentiment," Tragon cleared his throat. "The dead were stacked up like cordwood. The flies were as thick as soup. So many of our men were dead it was hard to believe that we were the victors." Tragon slung the letter to the ground.

Jena wasn't stupid enough to reach over to pick it up. She didn't trust Tragon, and she wasn't about to put herself in that position. Something in his eyes right then told her that he wasn't quite sane.

"Some love letter you have there, Jena. Reads more like the log of a Warlord, and why shouldn't it? Tarius is after all the kingdom's only reigning Warlord. A killer tried and true . . ."

"The king himself told me that it was his decision to keep Tarius in the field," Jena countered.

Tragon laughed. "The king ows Tarius his life and his country. Do you really think that if Tarius had told the king he wanted to go home, that the king wouldn't have let him go? As I said, the king doesn't make any decisions concerning the war. Tarius does. If Tarius is in the field now, it is only because he wants to be."

Jena turned on her heel and started out of the field. She just wanted to get as much distance between her and Tragon as she could.

Tragon ran, caught her by the arm, and swung her around to face him. She kicked him in the knee, and he slung her into the ground and straddled her. He held one hand over her screaming mouth, and with his other gathered up her flailing arms. "Maybe I just need to show you what a real man could do for you, hey, Jena? Give you what Tarius hasn't, and isn't ever going to."

She bit his hand. Bit it hard, and he lost his grip on her hands. She drove the butt of her palm up into his solar plexus the way Tarius had taught her, and all the air was forced out of Tragon's lungs. Jena easily dug out from underneath him. While he was still gasping for breath she kicked him in his wounded leg, and he squealed in pain.

"Hear this and hear this well, Tragon. I will not tell a soul what happened here today, for I don't want to shame myself. My husband counts you among his friends, and I do not wish him to know what nature of man you really are. Let him believe he has saved a good man and not a wicked one. However, if you ever come near me again . . . If you even try to talk to me alone again, I will tell Tarius exactly what happened here today, and may the gods help you, because I think we both know what Tarius would do to you."

* * *

"I'm sorry Jena," Tragon called after her departing form. "Please forgive me." But she didn't turn around. He lay in the clearing clutching his leg in pain. "My gods what have I done, I have become an animal. A creture to be loathed."

Jena was right. If Tarius ever found out what had happened in this field, Tragon would be a dead man. The Katabull would shred him into pieces, and with the king as her ally, no one would dare to raise a hand or say a word against Tarius. In that moment Tragon wished that Tarius had let him die on the battlefield. Something had happened to him out there in combat. He wasn't the same man he had been, something had snapped in his brain, he knew that now. Jena had never liked him, so she'd never forgive him for this trespass.

Tragon knew his mind was completely bent because instead of hating himself for what he'd tried to do, he just hated Tarius all the more, because she was a better man than he was.

* * *

Tarius stood on a hill looking out over a small Amalite encampment. Soon they would sweep down and wipe them out, then they would be done. It had only taken them three months to hunt out and kill the Amalite "missionaries." The weather was turning cold, and it was time she got her troop back home.

Tarius walked over and got back on her horse. Arvon had the right flank this time, and he looked at her across the other men and shook his head. She was enough to scare a man to death. Her black armor, repaired a hundred times had gained some metal. Shiny metal pauldrons graced her shoulders, and seven limb tassets lay over her hips. She had cut the hair out of her eyes, but it now reached to the middle of her back, and she still wore two thick braids on either side of her face. She had smeared charred coals across her face in the lines of a skeletal design, so that she looked more beast than human. She took her helmet from her saddle horn and stuck it on her head, then she drew her sword. It wouldn't be long now.

The sword fell in a downward arc, and they started down the hill at a full gallop.

The Amalites had no idea what hit them. They weren't prepared for the attack, and they fell in a matter of minutes. When Arvon looked up from his last kill, he saw Tarius standing in the middle of the camp, sword in hand, desperately seeking another victim.

There was a crazed look in her eyes. Arvon quickly got off his horse and he walked carefully towards her. "Tarius, they're all dead. We can go home now."

She looked at him only a second and then wiped the blood from her blade with her fingers and flipped them in the air sending blood everywhere. She sheathed her sword, and only then did she look up at him.

"Home." She sighed and walked up to him. "We have to go home."

Arvon laughed. He looked around at all their happy comrades hugging each other and rejoicing that they could finally go home. "Have to? Tarius, it's over, and we can go home."

Tarius nodded silently.

"Tarius . . . Don't you want to go home? I know you miss Jena."

"Of course I want to be with Jena . . . It's just." Tarius shrugged and added in a whisper almost too low for him to hear. "She doesn't really want me, Arvon. I've tricked her, I'm the worst sort of heal and now I have to face that. It's worse than any Amalite."

"Tell her the truth. I think you'll be surprised."

The men all piled on Tarius, hugging her, and then carrying her around on their shoulders. Here she had acceptance. They completely bought her lies, but at home with Jena . . . How long could she fool Jena, especially when she didn't want to?

* * *

Harris rode up alongside Arvon. They had been on the road a week now, and they were almost home. Most of their fellows had left them to go to their own homes, and they were down to a mere ten men.

"What's with Tarius?" Harris asked quietly.

Arvon smiled. "Tarius is a warrior, Harris. Without an enemy to fight he feels sort of lost."

Harris slapped Arvon on the back. "I bet Jena can make him think about something besides fighting."

"Or at least give him a whole different fight," Arvon mumbled.

Harris rode up beside Tarius. "We're almost home, Tarius. Why don't we run the horses?"

Tarius laughed. "Since we are almost home, why not give our horses a well-deserved rest?"

"Aren't you excited to get home? To see Jena?"

"Yes," Tarius answered truthfully. She did long to see Jena, but she was scared, too. What if Tragon had told Jena? What if Jena now hated her? And even if she didn't, it was only a matter of time. What had Hellibolt said? Her life was a recipe for disaster. He was right.

However Harris's excitement was contagious, and the more she thought about how close she was to Jena, the more she wanted to see her. Finally, she looked over at Harris and smiled. "All right, I'll race you home. We'll be nice to our horses later." Tarius spurred her horse into a full gallop and Harris rode hard to try to keep up. The others did the same.

* * *

Jena was hanging out the laundry when she heard the sound of horses coming up fast. Her heart sunk in her chest; it could be bad news. She set the laundry basket down and ran towards the front gates. Suddenly a dark clad warrior rode hard through the front gates and jumped from his horse. The warrior landed mere feet away from Jena. She was startled, and it took her a second to realize that this grubby, soot covered warrior clad all in black leather and metal was her own dear husband . . . until their eyes met.

They met somewhere in the middle. Tarius lifted Jena in his arms and swung her around. Their lips met, and any fears Jena had were gone.

* * *

Harris rode in behind Tarius and got off his horse. He didn't look much less woolly than Tarius. He looked at Jena and Tarius and smiled. Nothing was going to peel them apart for a while.

Darian ran up and embraced Harris. "So, good Sir Harris, I see you have brought the heathen back to us in one piece."

"Aye, sir," Harris smiled.

"You smell a little ripe," Darian said, waving a hand in front of his face. "By the gods! It's good to see you lad."

Harris looked back over his shoulder. The others should have been there by now.

Darian smiled. "No doubt they've headed into town for some girls and some ale." He looked over to where Tarius and Jena stood just holding each other and smiled. "By the gods! He is a wild looking rascal."

"He paints his face when he goes into battle. Still has it all over his face," Harris said. "He is a fearsome sight to behold, at times he even scares me."

"Come on in the house. I'll have the servants draw you a bath, and we'll have an ale. Leave these two alone."

Harris nodded and followed Darian inside. "Ah! Chairs!" Harris said with a sigh looking at them. Darian laughed.

* * *

Tarius just held Jena for a long time, not moving and hardly breathing. The tears rolled freely down his cheeks, leaving streaks in the filth.

Jena moved back from him, looking into his face. She ran her finger over the unfamiliar scar on Tarius's face. "You do still love me?" Jena asked in a voice too small to be her own.

"How could I ever stop loving you?" Tarius said. He wiped the tears off Jena's face, leaving streaks of dirt, which he then tried to wipe off only making them worse. "Am I too ugly for you now?"

Jena laughed. "You are beautiful! A sight for my sore eyes. However, you are way too dirty even for me." She made a face at the stench coming off Tarius, he smelled worse than she could ever remember anything smelling.

"Then perhaps I'd better take a bath." Tarius released Jena and took her hand. He led her back towards his horse.

A young groom had run out upon hearing word that his hero, Sir Tarius, had just ridden onto the grounds. He had gathered the reins of both Tarius and Harris's horses and stood there happily waiting for an order from Tarius.

Tarius looked at the boy and smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ruby ring he had no doubt taken off one corpse or another. He tossed it to the lad who barely caught it and dropped the reins in the process. He quickly caught up the reins again, and looked at the ring then at Tarius.

"For me, Sir?" he asked incredulously.

Tarius nodded. "Aye, you just take good care of my friend here. He has taken very good care of me."

"Thank you, Sir!" the excited boy said. "Thank you very much!"

Tarius grabbed something wrapped in several layers of leather off the horse, then grabbed his saddlebags. He nodded, and the boy started guiding the horses towards the stables.

"I have something for you," Tarius said. He handed the leather clad whatever to Jena.

It was much heavier than Jena thought it would be, and she almost dropped it. She started to open it, but Tarius grabbed her hands and stayed them looking quickly around.

"Not here." She took Jena's hand. "Come on." Tarius slung the saddlebags over his shoulder and started pulling Jena along.

Jena smiled at the familiar tug on her arm. Tarius hadn't changed. She squeezed his hand tight, and he turned to look at her and smiled, the kind of smile that lit up his whole face. This was no dark mindless killer who had returned home to her. This was the same warm and loving husband she had sent away to war, and his love for her was the same.

"I love you, Tarius," Jena said softly.

Tarius stopped tugging for a moment and turned to face her. He stepped closer to her, then bent down and kissed her gently on the mouth.

"I didn't realize till this moment how much I had missed hearing you say that to me, looking into your eyes, and knowing that it's true." He kissed her again, this time with more passion. He stopped abruptly, moved away and started pulling her along again. "Come on! I'm too filthy to be thinking about doing to you what I want to be doing to you."

Jena laughed and followed him. At the creek Tarius sat on a rock and dragged Jena down beside him. Tarius looked at Jena impatiently. "Well, open it."

It wasn't as easy as it sounded because it was wrapped in several layers of suede and had been tied with leather thong that had obviously been wet more than once by the tightness of the knots. It wasn't hard to tell what Tarius had brought her. Other husbands coming home from war would be bringing their wives rare jewelry, balms or soaps from far away villages. Tarius had brought her a sword.

She was happy with the gift before she had even seen it. When the last piece of leather fell away, she was looking at one of the finest blades she'd ever seen. She took in a deep breath, held the sword up and moved it carefully from one hand to the other. She stood up with it, walked a few feet away and started swinging it around. It appeared to be as perfectly balanced as her husband's sword, which was the only other real sword she had ever held. She slung it through the air faster and faster.

"Be careful now, Jena. That's a real blade," Tarius warned with a laugh.

Jena nodded, slowing down and watching carefully as the blade sliced the air.

"It's beautiful, Tarius! Thank you. Thank you so much."

Tarius just nodded, smiling. "It's a Kartik bastard sword. Don't ask me how a filthy Amalite got his hands on it. Makes me mad just to think of it. He didn't get to keep it, though. It was a woman's sword I'm guessing by the weight of it. I'm sure she'd be happy to know that her blade is out of the hands of the Amalites and in your hands."

"It seems to fit my hands. Almost like it was made for me," Jena said.

"You should have been with us," Tarius said. "You're as good as any man, better than most. Of course I have to admit that as much as I would have liked to have you with me, I would have been distracted with you on the field."

Jena stopped twirling the blade, resting it on her shoulder. She looked lustfully at Tarius, and the color rose in Tarius's cheeks. Jena carefully licked her lips, then laughed at the look on Tarius's face. "Find me a distraction, do you?"

"You'd be disappointed if I didn't. Besides, that's not what I meant. I meant I would be worried about you. I would have spent more time trying to make sure you didn't get hurt than I did fighting the Amalites," Tarius said swallowing hard.

"You don't think I could hold my own?" Jena asked with a wicked smile.

"That's not it. I just . . . I wouldn't want to live in a world without you in it, Jena. I never thought I could feel like this about anyone . . ."

Tarius looked Jena up and down. She was everything she had ever dreamed of. She wanted to be with Jena now more than ever before. Really be with her. Jena loved her, and she deserved to know the truth. She deserved to be able to make a choice. "I have something to tell you, and you had better sit back down."

The smile left Jena's face as she saw how serious Tarius was. "What's wrong?" she asked, sitting beside Tarius. She put the sword down and took Tarius's hand.

"Jena . . . Would you love me no matter what?" Tarius asked.

The color left Jena's face, and she slowly but carefully took her hand from Tarius's. "I realize you were gone a long time," Jena swallowed hard. "I realize a man has needs, but maybe if you had let me take care of them before you left . . ."

"Wow!" Tarius said waving her hands in the air. "I wasn't with another woman. I wouldn't do that to you. I love you, and only you. I don't have any desire left over for anyone else."

The color returned to Jena's face and she took Tarius's hand. She looked into Tarius's eyes. "I would love you no matter what you did, even if you had done that. I would have been furious. I would have tried to find some way to make you pay," she added with a wicked smile. "But I could never stop loving you. You're my husband. You're my man."

Tarius's confession died on her lips. She doesn't love me. She loves the man that she thinks that I am. If I want to keep her, I will just have to go on being that man, and hope that I can keep her fooled till I can get her out of this gods-forsaken country.

Jena squeezed Tarius's hand tighter. "You could tell me anything. You have to know that."

Tarius took a deep breath, and thought of yet another lie. "I was hurt in the war . . . My . . . Well . . . My thing doesn't work right now. I don't know when it will, or even if . . . " Tarius's heart broke at the look of disappointment Jena wasn't able to hide with her quick smile.

"Well, then I'll just have to find other ways to please you," she said and her smile broadened. "But first, you need a bath."

* * *

Tarius locked the door to the bathroom and then put a chair in front of it. She didn't usually bathe in the house. She went to a spot in the creek far away from observers and bathed there even in the coldest weather. She had even broken ice off the stream to get a bath. It was no way to live. Especially since the Jethriks had found the wonder of running water. They would go up stream and damn an area off, then use bamboo—no doubt imported from the Kartik as there was no bamboo in the Jethrik—with the petitions knocked out to pipe the water to their dwellings. Some of the water was directed into huge vats where fires were built under them and the water was heated for bathing. It was a wonderful luxury, and one Tarius could have thoroughly enjoyed if she wasn't scared to death of being caught.

Everything was such a mess! She had told so many lies she didn't know what the truth was any more. When she had asked for five yards of clean muslin, no one had even batted their eyes. Apparently they all knew of her "Kartik" practice of wrapping her chest for protection of body and spirit.

"What a crock!" Tarius said. "Now I'm telling her I was hurt in the war . . . Damnedest accident, honey, turned me right into a woman!" Tarius mumbled. She walked to the mirror and stood, appalled at her own reflection. "What the hell has happened to me?" She ran her finger down the new scar on her face. It was the first time she had seen it. There were other new scars all over her body. Most were small and would probably heal completely in time. Others, like the one on her face, would be there the rest of her life. She took another look. She had soot all over her face, and her hair was a ratted, tangled mess. She smiled, this was the way she saw herself, fearsome and battle ready. However if the hair was clean and combed, it was going to make her look too feminine, so it was going to have to go. She found some scissors and looked at her hair one last time. Except for the filth and mats it was just the way she liked it. Oh well, if she was going to keep up the act, she had to look the part.

She cut her hair short, and she didn't do a bad job.

Then she started stripping her armor off. She was dreading this part. She had only had it off all the way to the skin three times in the last few months. She was afraid of what she might find and for the moment glad that Jena wouldn't be seeing her without any clothes on. Because of course the Kartik people are such a modest people. So much so that they won't even undress in front of their own spouse. Another big lie, and she'll know it if I can ever get her to Kartik. Of course, if I can get her to Kartik I will unmask all the lies. She'll be too far away to get home without my help, and I won't help her get home. I'll make her understand. I'll make her want me as much as I want her . . . If I can't, only then will I bring her home again.

Her upper armor and pauldrons were no trouble, and she hadn't really expected them to be. Even the leather pants, which at least got pulled down and then up again when she had to relieve herself, weren't too bad. But her gambeson was soaked through with sweat and blood and never washed except when she was in it. It never came off; she even slept in it. Just as she slept in the wrappings. On the field there had been no time or place to remove either in privacy. No doubt the gambeson and wrappings were the bigger part of the great stench that they were talking about, and now that she was inside she could smell it, too.

She thought she knew more or less what to expect, so she pulled it off slowly. Sure enough, several layers of dead skin came with it. It smelled like death itself, and even she had trouble holding her stomach. She put it into the burlap sack she had them bring for just that purpose. Her skin looked raw, white and exposed. It would feel good to get a real bath. Good to wear normal clothes for a while. She started to unwrap the cloth that held her breasts flat against her chest. More flesh peeled away with the cloth, and the smell was if anything worse than her gambeson. She put the rags into the bag as well, then she looked at herself again in the mirror. The wrappings had left lines in her body, some of which looked deep enough to be permanent, and her breasts didn't immediately resume their true shape.

It was funny, when she had first started binding them, it had hurt. The discomfort had been almost unbearable. Now it almost hurt to have them unbound and in the open air. Her breasts, like the breasts of most Kartik women, were not very large. If they had been, she never could have pulled this off.

Her underwear was smelly, torn and threadbare. She threw them in the bag, too. The bag and its contents would be burned. She'd make a new gambeson, maybe Jena would even make it for her. Maybe they could work on it together—that would be nice.

They had warmed the bath water, and when Tarius stepped into the warm water and sank down in the bath up to her neck she sighed. After a few moments, she attacked the filth of her with luffa sponge and lye soap. Layers of dead skin were scraped off, leaving exposed delicate, new skin and more than a few scars. When she got out of the water, it was filthy. She drained it, ran cold water into the bath and got in again just to rinse the other off.

She was toweling herself dry when a knock came on the door and she jumped, automatically wrapping the towel around herself.

"Yes?" she said carefully.

"Are you all right, Tarius?" Jena's voice asked.

"Yes fine. Just very, very dirty," Tarius said. "I'm just now drying off. I'll be out in a minute."

She finished drying herself and dressed in the Swordmaster's uniform Jena had left out for her. They were her clothes, but she noticed that the uniform was loose in some places and tight in others. The war had changed her body configuration. She pulled on clean new boots and sighed. She had forgotten how good it felt to be clean.

She walked out of the bathroom door, and Jena was waiting for her. She smiled brightly at Tarius and then hugged her neck, kissing her gently on the lips. "Dinner's ready."

"Ah! Food. Food that doesn't have bugs in it. Should be quite a treat." She held Jena tighter. "Of course, I can think of something I'd like better." She bent down and whispered something particularly wicked in Jena's ear, and Jena shook with desire.

"Oh! Now that sounds much better than anything I can think of. However, I believe my father would be a little disappointed if we were that late for dinner." Jena laughed and she pushed away from Tarius a little, although Tarius didn't loosen her grip. Jena seemed to be thinking, and then she frowned. "You know . . . I think I liked all the hair."

Tarius laughed. "Now isn't that ironic? I cut it off for you."

* * *

Tarius hadn't realized what a state of shock she was in until she was seated at the opposite end of her father-in-law's table. Sitting at a table about to be served a meal of several courses. Jena sat to the right of her, and Harris to the left. Tragon sat next to Harris, and Edmond sat next to him. Justin and his wife sat beside Jena.

It was to be a full-fledged feast. She motioned to Harris with a finger, and he bent to hear her whispered words.

"I know all you have thought of is eating, but heed my advice. We have been on warrior's harsh rations for months. Bad food and not enough of it. Don't eat too much of anything, or you'll get sicker than you have ever been," Tarius warned.

Harris nodded and frowned. "You just have to suck the fun out of everything, don't you, Tarius?"

"We were beginning to think we were going to be eating cold food, son-in-law," Darian said.

"I was very dirty," Tarius said. "Had to fill the tub twice."

Harris laughed. "Me, too, and my skin came off with my gambeson in layers. Smelt like dead bodies . . ."

"Harris! For the gods' sake," Tragon said making a face. "We are preparing to eat dinner."

Harris's spirits could not be dampened by the likes of Tragon. He just smiled and shrugged. "I guess we were at battle too long. It might take us awhile to get used to polite life again. Aye, Tarius?"

"Aye," Tarius said simply. Jena grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed. Tarius squeezed back, and they looked at each other and exchanged a smile.

* * *

Tragon was sickened by the obvious love these two exchanged in a glance. But you don't know what I know, Jena. You don't know that you're great love is a dark demon hidden in human form. That your man is no man at all, but a woman just like yourself. You can't wait for Tarius to take you to bed and give you what you crave, but Tarius can't give it to you. You jilted me and your own frustration shall be your reward.

Despite the warning, Harris ate too much and got sick just as his mentor had promised. They sent for the academy surgeon, who mixed some powders that were supposed to help, and they all retired to the drawing room. Tarius sat down in one of the over-stuffed chairs and delighted in the softness of it.

Jena sat on the floor at Tarius's feet, leaning against Tarius's legs. She kicked her shoes off and pretended not to notice her father's look of disapproval. The servant started to serve drinks, and Tarius waved him away.

"Tarius, have a little of the mint liqueur. It's really very good," Darian said.

"I don't drink alcohol," Tarius said plainly.

"As I live and breathe! I didn't know that," Darian said. "Why not?"

"To be quite frank, I become a raving beast when I drink. Impossible, quarrelsome and wanting to shed blood," Tarius said. "I fear I might do something I would later regret."

"Always a sensible man," Darian said.

"How is your leg, my brother?" Tarius asked Tragon, wanting to change the subject.

"It's better, though it still hurts and it doesn't work very well. I see you've picked up yet another scar, my brother," Tragon said a bit of sting in his words.

"I'm afraid it is one of many," Tarius said with a shrug.

"That's what happens when you stay for the whole war, Tragon," Harris said harshly. "But of course you wouldn't know about that."

Jena looked at Harris and smiled broadly. She was glad Harris had said it and not her. She didn't want Tarius to find out how she felt about Tragon.

"It's a good thing Tragon was here," Justin said, "or we would have had no instructors at all. As it was, we put many Swordmasters in the field who would not have made the cut in peace time."

Edmond nodded his head in agreement. "I barely had time to teach them the stripped-down basics."

"Enough of this. I have held my tongue as long as I can!" Darian rubbed his hands together. "Tarius, Harris, tell us about the war."

"I guess that's our cue, dear," Justin's wife said looking at Jena.

"I'll stay," Jena said.

Justin's wife made a face. "It's not seemingly for a young lady . . ."

Tarius glared up at the woman. "It's seemly for my wife, madam. If I can go and fight in the war, she can at least hear about it if she so wishes. I don't tell Jena what to do, and no offense meant, but I'll be damned if anyone else will."

Justin's wife gave Tarius a heated look, but held her tongue. She looked at Jena expectantly.

Jena smiled up at her sweetly. "I'm staying."

The woman left in a huff, and the war stories were told in detail and at length. Jena was neither sickened nor frightened as she listened intently to all that Harris and Tarius had to say. She was only glad that it was over and she had her husband back. In time he would heal, and then they could be truly together.

* * *

Arvon and Dustan had found a good tavern, had as good and hearty a meal as they could stand, and drank freely of the best ale in the house.

Some of the villagers had gathered around to hear the war stories.

"Then Sir Tarius the Black comes bounding on horseback over both shield walls. He runs through the Amalite forces hacking and slashing his way through. Then as if he'd had a vision, he jumped into his saddle, riding on his feet. He leapt from the horse, did a spin in the air and grabbed the arrow just inches from the king's face. Then he lands on his feet, looks at the Amalite horde, holds the arrow high above his head and screams like a million demons are being released. Then he just ran at them on foot, hacking and slashing, cutting a trail through the Amalites four warriors wide. Our troop's spirits were lifted, and we suddenly knew no force could stand against the might of the Jethrik army and the Kartik warlord that led them."

Arvon was drunk, and he simply nodded in approval. Dustan embellished a little, but he wasn't too far from the truth, and he told a good tale. Boy should have apprenticed to a bard instead of a Swordmaster.

Suddenly Arvon didn't feel so good. Not really sick, just different and . . . Oh my god! I'm changing! I have to get out of here before the transformation is complete and someone sees me.

He jumped up and ran outside.

"Arvon, Arvon!" Dustan followed after him.

Outside Arvon headed for the wooded area behind the pub. If he could get to the woods, but he was drunk and was having trouble walking. The transformation seemed to make him even drunker than he would have normally been, and the liquor seemed to speed up the transformation.

"Arvon . . . Are you all right?" Dustan asked.

"Go away, boy!" Arvon snapped in a voice very different from his usual.

"Are you hurt? You don't sound right." Dustan took Arvon's arm and Arvon swung on him. Dustan let go of Arvon's arm and jumped back. "My gods! You're . . . You're."

"Yes I am," Arvon growled out. The transformation was complete, and his head was spinning. He looked around. No one else had seen him. He grabbed Dustan by the collar. "You shouldn't have followed me. Come on." He dragged Dustan into the woods, kicking but not screaming.

Dustan was in shock. He didn't know what to think or do. Only two things were clear in his mind. First, he didn't want Arvon to get into trouble, and second he didn't want to be in the hands of an angry Katabull.

When he realized he couldn't get away, he stopped squirming. Arvon ran like the wind, and it was all Dustan could do to keep up being half dragged, half carried. He tried to make his legs help him along when he could get his footing.

When they were far enough into the woods, Arvon let him go and started to pace around him in a circle, obviously thinking.

"So you were the Katabull the Amalites said visited their camp every night before a battle," Dustan said.

Still drunk, Arvon spoke without thinking. "A couple of times. Mostly it was Tarius." He stopped, raising his hands to cover his mouth. When he removed them he screeched, "Damn! Now she's going to kill me."

"She!" Dustan squealed.

Arvon covered his mouth again then started mumbling to himself. "He's a good man." He started circling Dustan again, and Dustan didn't dare to try and make a run for it. "I'd hate to kill him, but now not only does he know my secret, but he knows all of Tarius's as well, and I owe Tarius a debt I can never repay."

"Tarius is a woman?" Dustan asked in disbelief, seeming not at all concerned that Arvon or even the Katabull was going to kill him.

"Yes, and quite fetching, actually, if one likes that sort of thing," Arvon answered.

"But Tarius married . . . Darian's daughter, Jena!" Dustan said in confusion.

Arvon stopped and looked at Dustan as if he were an idiot. "Well, that's where all the trouble started, isn't it? I mean how long does she think she can fool the girl?"

"Jena doesn't know?"

"No . . . And she can't find out, at least not from us." Arvon sighed. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"

Dustan relaxed completely as he realized that the Katabull was still Arvon even in this state. He knew that no matter what Arvon might say, he was in no real danger.

"Actually, I can think of quite a few things," Dustan said with a smile.

"You're a wicked, wicked boy, Dustan," Arvon said in disbelief.

"I'm no boy, Arvon, and I've made no bones about the way I feel," Dustan said.

"But . . . But . . . I'm the Katabull!" Arvon protested and made a horrible face extending his hands like claws. It had quite the opposite effect Arvon had been hoping for. Dustan laughed. Arvon let his hands drop to his side. "Aren't you even a little afraid of me?"

Dustan shrugged. "Not really, you're still Arvon, and I am very, very fond of you. What better way to make me keep your secrets and those of your good friend Tarius than to make me your lover?"

 

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