Tragon lay sick with fever, having the field stitches taken out to have the wound "repaired correctly," as the academy surgeon explained it, and she had not one question about him or his health.
Jena ran in and skidded to a stop just short of hitting the surgeon. "Is Tarius all right? Is he well?"
"Jena, I'm wounded. I've just spent a week in hell being bumped across the countryside on a horrible wagon." He screamed in pain. "Jena, they're taking my leg apart."
"I know all that, Tragon. Don't be such a baby. How is Tarius?"
Not even one word of concern about my condition. Not even a good to see you, Tragon. Only how is Tarius? Is he all right? Well, she's just fine, Jena, dear. I, on the other hand, am going to die. He screamed again as the sadistic bastard dug at another stitch.
"Just leave it be, man. It had almost stopped hurting until you started poking at it!" Tragon screamed.
"Tragon, please!" Jena pleaded.
"For the gods' sake! He was fine when last I saw him. There's a note from him in my saddle bags . . ." He hadn't even finished when Jena ran out the door to go look for his saddlebags, which she no doubt believed to be in the stable. "They're right there on the floor."
Darian chuckled. "Forgive her, Tragon. I'm sure you can understand what she's been going through having a husband on the front with little or no news."
"Oh gods!" Tragon screamed. He glared at the surgeon who shrugged, a hapless look on his face, and continued to dig. "The king's own surgeon sewed that, and yet you say it's not good enough. You awful hack! Why on earth did I listen to you? You wanted to cut Arvon's perfectly good leg off."
Darian laughed at the hurt look on the surgeon's face. Then he picked up Tragon's saddlebags and started digging through them till he found several pieces of parchment folded up bearing Jena's name in Tarius's own unique handwriting. There was dried blood on the parchment and Darian made a face.
"He wrote it right after the battle. Tarius won't allow the wounded to stay on the front even one single day. The regular soldiers are shipped off to the nearest villages for recovery, and after they recover they stay in that village. The protection of that village becomes their duty. We lucky Swordsmen get shipped back here, and when we recover we are to be sent right back up to the front as quickly as we can get there. The only ones who are any more abused than we are the poor heralds. They're on horseback constantly with little or no sleep, traveling from one camp to the other and bringing news of the war back here."
"Was he hurt?" Darian asked looking at the dried blood and trying to scrape it off where he could.
Tragon laughed. "Oh, it's not his blood; it's theirs. It's never his blood. The king has made Tarius chief warlord, you know."
Darian found a chair and sat down hard. "No, I didn't."
"Well, he has. The king doesn't piss without asking Tarius first."
"Evil boy!" the surgeon scolded.
"Watch your mouth, Tragon," Darian said.
"Well, it's true! The king takes the credit for it, but all the plans are made by Tarius. The men all know it, too," Tragon said.
Jena ran back in breathless. "They said you didn't have a horse . . ." Her father was holding up the letter and Jena ran over and grabbed it from him.
You would have thought he had given her gold. She held the folded hunk of parchment in her hand just looking at where Tarius had written her name. She would recognize his handwriting anywhere. Tears came to her eyes, and she just couldn't bring herself to open it. She was glad to have the letter, but at the same time it reminded her that he wasn't here.
Tragon didn't know what possessed him, maybe it was the fact that Tarius had just saved his life, or maybe it was just the medicine kicking in. "You know how I feel about you, Jena, it's never been a secret. How I envy Tarius because he has you, how I envy his skill and his bravery. I'd like very much to hate the lucky bastard, but now he has gone and saved me. He threw himself between the enemy and me and then stood over my wounded body protecting me. He and Harris stood by me throughout the battle shielding me from harm. For this reason, I have to tell you something I would rather not. I have to tell you how much he loves you and how he talks about you and misses you constantly. You know how hard it is for him to write, and at the time he was busy with the business of after-battle clean up and setting camp. Yet he sat there knowing that I would be coming back here and wrote you that letter."
"Thanks, Tragon," Jena said through choked-back tears, then turned and ran from the building.
* * *
She ran all the way to the clearing where Tarius had taught her to fight, where he had first made love to her. It was here that she felt closest to him. She sat for a minute just letting herself cry, and then she wiped her tears away and opened the letter carefully. There were three pages, but considering how big Tarius wrote, it wasn't as wordy as some might have thought.
Dear Jena,
First I must tell you how much I miss you. I have dreamt of doing battle against the Amalites my whole life. It is all I have worked for. All I ever cared about.
Now because of you, I only want to be home.
Gudgin died today with a spear in his chest. We hadn't gotten along when I was at academy, but on the battlefield we had grown to like and respect each other. He was a good man, my dear friend, and he will be sorely missed.
Tragon, as you now know by now, was badly injured in the battle. Many died; it was our highest death count yet. We lost eighty-five men as of the last count.
Harris is my best man and my trusted companion. I have also inherited Gudgin's page, Dustan, who seems a good lad.
I grow weary of sleeping with men, and I'm sure they grow wearier of having to peel me off of them by morning. It seems I grew too accustomed to sleeping with you too fast.
If all goes well, the war should be over soon. When it is, I want to go back to Kartik. I hope you will consider the move. I think it would be best for us.
All my love and devotion,
Tarius
Jena read the letter over and over again. She laughed at the thought of Tarius curled around poor Tragon or Harris. She wept over the death of Gudgin and all the others and for the pain Tarius must feel at their loss. She wished she could be there beside him to comfort him.
"They call him Tarius the Black you know."
Jena started at her father's voice and dried her eyes. "Father! I . . ."
"Oh, yes, I know all about this place, and I know about that heathen husband of yours teaching you to use a sword." Darian laughed at the startled look on his daughter's face.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Jena asked.
Darian shrugged and sat next to her on the log. "What good would it have done? Admittedly, daughter, I have to say that when I first saw you out here with your husband and young Harris I was appalled and wanted to strangle the lot of you. But as I watched you fight—when I saw that you were very good—well, I couldn't help but feel proud. In fact," he looked around, " . . . if you'd like, I could teach you a few tricks of my own."
"Oh, Father!" Jena hugged his neck. "I would love that . . . Did Tragon tell you any more about Tarius?"
"He is now the king's chief warlord. Seems Persius does not make a move without first asking Tarius. They call him 'the black' because he has gone back to wearing his old leather armor and has let his hair grow till it is almost to his shoulders. Before battle he paints his face with charcoal. Tragon says he is a fearsome sight."
"Please tell me," Jena held up the parchment. " . . . that the blood is not his."
"It isn't," Darian said. "It might have been nice if the barbarian washed his hands before he wrote to you, though."
"I don't care about the blood, Father, as long as it isn't his."
They talked for a long time about the war and the letter and what Tragon had said. But Jena didn't tell her father of Tarius's desire to leave the kingdom and move to the Kartik.
"I only hope that my letter gets to him," Jena said as she let her father help her to her feet. They started back to the house.
"Oh, it will. You couldn't have had a better messenger," Darian said.
* * *
The camp had to be laid out in perfect order and with careful preparation for the big battle ahead. The first aid tents had to be close enough to the camp to be accessible to the battlefield, but not so close that they would be hard to defend. Same with the cooks' wagons. Tarius made up maps of where she wanted things and handed them out to the warlords under her. There had to be enough room to accommodate the other units as they came in.
At first, as always, there was chaos, and then everyone seemed to realize their task and everything came together almost without a hitch.
Tarius had ridden out to the edge of the woods to look down at the valley below. The place was filthy with Amalites. They had been building up their presence here for weeks. Luckily the Jethrik army had also been building up their forces. They had already sent for the units following behind them and told them to come on in. In just five days' time they could be as large as the army they faced, and it would be no problem at all.
That is it would be no problem if the Amalite army chose not to ride against them for five days time. Which she truly doubted.
The Amalites hadn't counted on getting caught. They had been building their forces here in what they thought was secret in order to launch a full-scale assault against the Jethrik countryside and push on to the capital. Nothing brought down the morale of an opposing army quite like having a massive fighting force charge across the land killing every living thing, scorching the earth black with fire, and then destroying their seat of power.
Now they had been caught, and there was no way they could be ignorant of the fact that the Jethrik forces were there. They also had to suspect that at the moment they outnumbered the Jethrik forces.
The real trick was to not let any of them get close enough to scout out the camp. To keep them in the dark about strengths and weaknesses. That's what Tarius was doing now. Riding the boundaries in case she might see something that the sentries didn't.
She had no idea how intimidating she was. She had patched her armor over and over, but still managed to keep it dyed jet black and the studs brightly polished. She wore metal-banded leather vambraces and metal elbow cops. Three-limbed pauldrons lay on her shoulders. She only wore her helmet when she knew there would be battle. Right now her black hair flowed out behind her. On either side of her head she wore tight braids that kept the hair out of her face. She cut her bangs, but that was all.
"You really are a stunning bitch," a familiar voice said.
"Arvon!" Tarius jumped from her horse and ran to greet him. She gave him a hearty hug, and he hugged her back. "Am I glad to see you!"
"I also am glad to see you. Although I'm not at all happy to see that," he said pointing down at the valley.
"I have sent orders for our other four units to come in. If we can keep them from over running us till all our forces arrive, we should be able to win this war and go home. Speaking of which, do you bring any news of my lady wife?"
"I happen to have a letter the dear lass wrote you right here in my pocket." He pulled out the letter and handed it to Tarius.
Tarius took it with trembling fingers, and a lump in her throat.
"You should tell her, Tarius. Her love for you is strong. I'm sure it would be a shock to her at first, but I think she would understand. I think she would love you anyway, given time to adjust."
"You don't know that," Tarius said. "What if Tragon is telling her even now?"
"Tragon is here . . . Isn't he?"
"No. He was wounded and he had to go home. You no doubt passed him on your way." Tarius seemed miserable. "I know how he feels about her. I'm not sure his loyalty to me will prevent him doing anything in his power to have her." She looked at the letter in her hands. "Whatever she has written here, it might have all changed by now."
"Don't think like that, Tarius. Read your letter and be happy to hear from her," Arvon said punching her in the shoulder.
Tarius nodded and she read the letter.
My Dear Husband,
I long for your touch. I only hope that the war will end soon that we will be victorious and that you will return to my side once again.
I hear that things on the front are horrible. They tell me that you ride out ahead of everyone else, charging head first into battle. Please don't do anything stupid. You don't have to prove anything to me or anyone else. Be more careful . . .
The rest of the four pages were filled with flowery tributes of her love for Tarius. Some of it made Tarius blush, and much of it called for body parts Tarius simply did not have. When she had read it, she folded it carefully and tucked it into the top of her pants.
"Well?" Arvon asked. He really hadn't read the letter, which had been pure hell for him, and he very much wanted to hear what Jena had written. Vicarious romance maybe, but Arvon wanted to know anyway.
Tarius looked solemnly over the valley filled with Amalites.
"She wants a man, Arvon. She wants me to take her like a rutting pig . . ."
"You don't know that, Tarius."
Tarius pulled the folded parchment from her pants, unfolded and leafed through the pages. "I long to feel your warm swollen form inside me," Tarius read in disgust, and once again folded the letter and put it away. "She wants me to be something that I can't be. She needs me to be something I can't be. What the hell have I done? I'm playing a game I can not win." She turned to face him then. "When I get home . . . How long can I hold her off?"
"Tell her, Tarius. Tell her and have it over with one way or the other. I think you're wrong about her. I look at you now, and I wonder how you have fooled anyone at all. To me, you are so obviously female. You are beautiful, and no normal man-loving woman would fall for you, my friend, because you simply don't look enough like a man."
"You thought me a man."
"Aye, but I thought you were a gay man and a fem at that," Arvon countered. "Jena could have had any man she wanted, so you have to ask why she pursued a woman instead."
"What are you saying?" Tarius asked.
"I'm saying that I think you and Jena are the same kind of women. She's just too ignorant to know it. She's young, and she's found a man who gives her what she needs. It's not so much that she wants a swollen cock inside her as it is that she wants to please you. You can't look at me and say that isn't exactly what you would like as well. Tell her. Yes, she'll be hurt at first. Of course she'll be confused. Eventually I believe she will come around, and then you can teach her to be the kind of lover you deserve."
Tarius laughed without humor. "I wish you were right, but you just don't understand. I only look like a woman to you now because you know that I am. Jena married a man; she wants a man."
"No. She thinks she wants a man. Any man would force her to be something that she isn't," Arvon said.
"Especially Tragon. He doesn't really love her at all. He lusts for her because she's beautiful. He wants her for a wife because she comes from a respected family. Mostly he wants her because she belongs to me," Tarius said. She was thoughtful for a moment. "When the war is over—if I can get her to Kartik. Then maybe there is a chance. If I can get her away from here, away from your strange rules . . ."
"You mean if you can move her away from her support base, across an ocean, so that she has no choice but to stay with you?" Arvon asked. "Do you really want to keep her under those terms?"
Tarius looked disturbed. She ran both her hands through her hair. "You said yourself that she loves me. You said Jena was like me. That she would still love me . . ."
"Yes I did, and I truly believe that she would. What you're talking about, though, is taking her choices away. Taking her to a place where she has no choice but to stay with you," Arvon said.
Tarius started to pace, throwing her hands around in huge circles as she talked and to Arvon's eyes looking more like a woman by the minute. "Maybe I don't care how I win as long as I win. The Nameless One knows that I have been accused of that enough lately." She motioned to the huge camp below her. "Do you think any of this matters to me now? It should, but it doesn't. All I care about is keeping Jena. Having Jena with me always. All I desire in this world is for her to love me for who I am. To be with her in every way. If I will break the unwritten rules to kill many men, why wouldn't I do the same to keep the only woman I have ever and will ever love? What? I shouldn't take her away and then reveal myself and make her stay with me because it's wrong? Everything I have done concerning her is wrong because I can't think straight when it comes to Jena. She restored my soul, Arvon, I can't live without her, I can't breathe without her love."
She stopped and turned away from him looking over the valley again. Arvon walked up behind her and put a hand on each of her shoulders. "I didn't mean to upset you, Tarius. I only want to help. I think you sell your lady short. Tell her the truth, tell her here, in Jethrik. If you spirit her away and try to force her to love you, you may make her hate you instead."
Tarius nodded silently. She tried to shake all thoughts of Jena from her head. The enemy lay before them. The Amalites outnumbered them ten to one. If the Amalites attacked tomorrow they would no doubt over-run them. They needed to hold the Amalites at bay for as long as possible, and there was only one way to do that.
She didn't have time to think about Jena or any of her personal problems. She had a war to fight.
"Arvon . . . I need you to do a favor for me."
* * *
They had tethered the horses, and Arvon had crawled through the brush along side Tarius.
"This is insane," Arvon said. "There are too many of them."
"I don't plan to plant a Jethrik flag in their midst. I simply go in, awaken all their Katabull fears, kill a few dozen of them and get out," Tarius said.
"I can do my eyes," Arvon started concentrating. After a few minutes the change occurred. "I can see better and my senses are more alert . . ."
"Don't be insane. No offense, but if I wasn't a fully formed Katabull I wouldn't even think of wading into that mess."
"You shouldn't anyway. They're waiting for you this time. All the guards are armed, not with swords but with spears," Arvon said. With the change he could now see as if it were daytime. "That's what I could do." Without another word Arvon crawled back to his horse. He reappeared several minutes later with his crossbow and a quiver of bolts. "I'll take out the guards outside the camp from a distance, clear a trail for you. Then you go in and do your worst. When you run out I cover your back, and we get out of here."
It was a good plan, and Tarius nodded. They crept slowly forward until the spearmen were in range. Then Arvon started firing, dropping one with each bolt he let fly. Tarius ran into the camp slashing, trashing and burning everything she came into contact with. She left a wide path of destruction through the Amalite camp, then she ran out under Arvon's covering fire. Together they ran back to their horses, mounted and rode away fast. When they were sure they hadn't been followed they slowed down. Then they looked at each other and laughed.
"I've . . . You know I've never really used it before," Arvon said conversationally. "I figured if I couldn't do a total transformation, why even bother? But I have to tell you there is an absolute plus to being able to see in the dark when your opponent can't. I was just picking them off and they had no idea where I was. They never even got close."
"Arvon . . . You mean . . . You never tried to change? You weren't trained?" Tarius said in shock.
"You can either change or you can't," Arvon said not understanding Tarius's questions.
"Who told you that?" Tarius asked.
"My father. My mother died before my tenth birthday while trying to have my brother."
"Arvon, don't you understand? It's like walking; you have to learn to do it. You have to learn to change. Your mother died before you were of changing age. Arvon . . . If you learned to change your eyes on your own, chances are you can shape-shift."
* * *
She led him to a stream far away from either camp. They both stripped naked and soaked in the stream's cold water.
"Why do we have to be naked?" Arvon asked in a whisper.
"Clothes might bind you in your changing. You bulk out as you change. It's why I wear my armor looser, why I loosen the bindings on my chest before I shift," Tarius said, she made a face. "When I remember."
"OK. Now my second question. Why are we sitting in ice cold water?" Arvon asked.
"Because I needed a bath," Tarius said with a smile that shone through the night.
Arvon laughed and shook his head. "All right, what do I do?"
"Close your eyes and remember learning to walk . . ."
"I don't remember that."
"Well, pretend like you do," Tarius said in an agitated voice. "When you are learning to walk, you put a foot forward, hold it in the air a moment, then you lean into it, you fall forward and catch yourself. One step. It's the same. Picture in your mind your features. Reach into yourself and find a wild thing that wants free. Pick it up gently . . ."
"With what?" Arvon asked, opening one eye just a slit.
"In your mind. Gods! You're hopeless . . . . Pick the wild thing up, hold it and caress it. Can you feel it?"
"Yes," Arvon said as if more than a little surprised.
"Now let it go. Let it fall . . ."
"That doesn't seem right," Arvon interrupted.
"Just do it," Tarius said with a sigh. "You drop it. It hits the ground, it busts, and the beast is loose within you. Open yourself up to it. Let its blood mix with yours. It is you and you are it, there is no diffrence between the two."
Anything else she said was lost to him. Arvon felt dizzy, as if he'd had way too much wine. There was a sense of falling and then being snapped upright just short of hitting the ground. His skin seemed to be exploding, like the feeling you got when you put on a shirt that was way too small for you. When he opened his eyes, Tarius smiled at him approvingly, her canines glowing in the moonlight.
"Arvon, my brother. You are the Katabull."
* * *
The next morning their scouts reported that the Amalites seemed more than usually quiet. Still, Tarius made the men stay at the ready all through the day.
Tarius and Arvon sat with Dustan and Harris having a late lunch.
"Why do you suppose they wait?" Dustan asked. "They outnumber us ten to one. They could easily take us."
"Perhaps their gods told them not to attack yet," Tarius said jokingly. Then added seriously, "Perhaps they wait for still more reinforcements. The Amalite army is huge."
"Why wait then?" Harris asked. "It doesn't make sense. They could crush us with the men they have here now, and their fresh troops could ride against our reinforcements when they arrive."
"The Amalite scout we caught earlier today said, after a little coaxing, that there was a Katabull in their camp last night." It was Hellibolt who spoke as he neared the fire, and both Tarius and Arvon gave him heated looks. "See, boys, the Amalites believe that if you see the Katabull at night you'll die the next day." He smiled broadly at Tarius and Arvon. "Perhaps for them it's true, hey, Tarius?"
"Don't fill these young men's heads with your foolish chatter. Away with you, Hellibolt, go tell the future of some other soldier," Tarius commanded.
"Ah! But the spirits have commanded that I tell yours, dear Tarius. In three days time you will commit an act that will finish the cycle you started when you saved the life of your partner through extraordinary means. The coming act combined with that one will surely cause your downfall. Take care that you do not rob fate of its true prize, for if you do, you will become the prize instead." That said he tossed something into the fire and walked away.
"What a creepy old fool," Dustan mumbled. He immediately dismissed anything the old man had to say because Gudgin had despised him, and anyone Gudgin had hated, Dustan was going to hate on principle. It was his way of respecting Gudgin's memory.
Harris was a peasant by birth and highly superstitious. He did not dismiss the old wizard's words so quickly. "What did he mean, Tarius?"
Tarius shrugged as if she hadn't given his words a second thought. "Who can tell? He is an old fool who talks in riddles." However she did not for one minute dismiss his words.
"What did he throw into the fire?" Dustan asked, noticing it had a funny shape and stench. He pocked at it with his sword. When he saw what it was he jumped screaming. "Bloody hell!"
It was a human ear.
"Crazy old coot," Arvon hissed.
Tarius smiled. "I guess the Amalite didn't want to talk."
* * *
That night both Arvon and Tarius ransacked the enemy camp. First they sat safely outside the camp and carefully picked off the now far greater number of guards. When they had killed two dozen or more and the camp was running around in panicked circles, they had run in with their swords swinging. The Amalites scattered before them. Not even one man stood and fought. They killed, they burned, and then they took off before any of the Amalites changed their minds and decided to stand and fight.
* * *
Early the next morning Tarius stood with a looking glass at the top of the plateau watching the Amalites below. "Damn! There are more coming in even now. What in hell are they playing at? Do they hope to come at us with their entire army?"
"Why don't you tell me?" It was Persius and his entourage.
Tarius had heard them coming and wasn't startled by his presence. In fact she even took her own sweet time turning to face him.
"That's what it looks like to me," Tarius was thoughtful. "Stewart's troop came in last night under cover of darkness, and Jamison should arrive tonight, however . . ."
"What?" Persius asked.
Tarius took a map from her pocket and spread it on the ground. She pointed to different areas as she spoke. "This is us, and here are the Amalites. We have the advantage of high ground, but they have the river which gives them not only protection on that front, but a ready water supply. They could very easily cut off our water supply by deploying troops in this area. We have to fortify this area to secure our water supply. Then we have to split our forces, sending Jamison and Alexander along this route. They should lay in wait here and ambush any new troops that come to join the Amalites."
"But that will leave us badly out numbered here, and we can't expect them to hold off their attack forever," Persius said.
"Aye, but Thomas' unit will join us here in four days time. It's the only chance that I can see that we have of defeating the Amalites. Jamison and Alexander's units can stop not just Amalite reinforcements, but also cut their supply lines. An army of that size consumes a lot of food, and they are out of their country. Stop the supply lines, and they fight on empty stomachs."
Persius nodded. "So what do we do next? Wait for them to attack?"
Tarius looked thoughtful again. "No. We have to attack now so that they won't catch on. Make them think that we have sized them up and have decided to attack them now before they can get any more reinforcements. Hopefully their intelligence has found out less about our plans than we have about theirs. Our crossbows and longbows outdistance anything that they have, so I suggest we set a shield wall here with archers here. Pikes and spears here and here, and horse men here in the center of it all. Try to draw them out and make them go into the river. When enough of them have waded into the river the archers will retreat, the shield wall will open, and the horsemen will attack in the river. The shield, pike, and spearmen will then run up to the bank of the river and attack them before they can reach shore. Meanwhile, I will have taken my troop and gone to the west. There is a low spot in the river there and we can cross with ease and come in behind their camp."
"It's a good plan," Persius said. Once again he went to the center of the camp and laid out the plan to the men as if it were his own.
Tarius led her troop, with Arvon and Brakston taking control of the left flank, and Derek and his partner, Heath, taking the right. Derek had balked at being put under Tarius's command when he'd arrived with Stewart the night before. But when he got dirty looks and harsh words from everyone he complained to, he soon shut up. Now he was just worried about being in command. After all, by all rights he hadn't even finished his training yet. They needed good swordsmen on the front so badly that they were running boys through the academy as fast as they could. A lot of less than exemplary swordsmen would have their chance at a title because of the war.
Tarius heard the sounds of war in the distance and sped her troop up. Their horses pounded down on the north flank—the rear of the Amalite camp. The Amalites were totally unprepared for the attack on their flank. At first Tarius and her men mowed right through them. Then suddenly they ground to a near halt. Tarius jumped from her horse and stood on the ground, swinging her sword around her head, and shouting orders that her men only half heard. Without her hand signals, no one would have been able to carry out her orders. Harris and Dustan reined their horses in hard beside her and helped her fight off the Amalites, who seemed to be hitting her in waves.
"Ride on!" Tarius screamed, ordering Harris and Dustan to fall in behind Arvon and Brakston. Tarius ran into the battle on foot, hacking and slashing every Amalite she came across. Most of the Amalite horses were being used on the front line no doubt, and so most of the Amalites they encountered were on foot. However they were like lice. For every one you picked off, ten more seemed to appear in its place. Tarius continued running through them, hacking and slashing. An ugly red gash had been opened across her right cheek, and blood ran freely down her face.
They were being engulfed; there were too many of them. It was that same feeling you got when you dove too deeply. Those few awful seconds when you wonder if you can get back to the surface before you have to take a breath.
Tarius spoke a word she had never thought she would speak in battle. "Retreat! Retreat!" She whistled for her horse, and he came running. She jumped on, then watched as her men rode out first. Harris and Dustan waited for them, and they were the last to run out. They headed back for the river. Naturally, the Amalites followed.
"Harris, Dustan ride on. Send Arvon back to me."
Harris looked at the angry mob behind them in amazement. "But Tarius, you'll be hacked to pieces . . ."
"Do it!" Tarius ordered.
Harris nodded and he and Dustan doubled their pace.
Tarius waited till she had reached the top of a little hill where the trail was narrow, and then she turned around. She jumped off the horse and called on the night. Within seconds she was the Katabull. There were no archers in the group that had chased them, and very few horsemen. Tarius ran at them, growling like a beast, and the Amalites froze for a second. Someone screamed a command, and they came at her again, although they did so with less than usual enthusiasm.
They were no match for the Katabull. When you threw a blow at her one place, she wound up several feet away in another. She ran over and on and up them. She kicked them in the face hard enough to force part of their nose out the back of their heads. Her sword decapitated or maimed with every swing. When a second Katabull, bigger than the first, arrived on the scene, they could no longer be ordered to fight. They turned and ran like frightened children.
Tarius licked the blood off her hand and changed back.
Arvon gave her a look of disgust. "That's human blood," he said.
"No. It's Amalite blood. We don't have time to hunt rabbits. I suggest you do the same. We have to go help Persius because there are even more of the bastards than we thought."
Arvon made a face and licked his hand. Then he smiled at Tarius as he changed. "Um, tastes like chicken."
"Just come on," Tarius ordered.
* * *
So far, Tarius's plan for the front line was working. But no matter how many of the bastards they killed, they just seemed to keep coming. Tarius ran in beside Persius and reined her horse in tight.
"We've got to retreat. We can't hold them in the open. Our only chance is to go back to the plateau. I've already positioned the archers. From there we can hold them off."
"For four days? Most of our troops have been sent west!" Persius was in a near panic.
"Only three more days—don't forget that most of today is gone," Tarius said with a half smile.
The Jethrik army retreated to the base of the plateau. The Amalites followed and arrows fell on them like rain.
Tarius dismounted, took a spear from a dead man and took his place behind the shield wall. "Press!" she ordered. The shield wall moved forward. The Amalites were falling, taking heavy casualties from the accurate rain of death. They started to retreat The Jethrik archers ceased fire, and the foot soldiers stopped their press.
"Who called a cease fire!" she screamed. She made a sign in the air with her spear. "Keep firing! Chase after them."
"But . . . Their backs are to us," Harris said from where he had been fighting at her shoulder.
She didn't have time to explain herself. "Push, damn it! I said push!"
Only about half of the archers continued to fire, and the foot soldiers were hesitant at best.
The Amalites were on the run.
"Halt!" Tarius screamed. She pushed through the shield wall to stand in front of them. "What the hell are you doing? When I give an order I expect it to be followed."
"You can't ask us to stab a man in the back!" someone screamed.
"Don't you understand? This is a holy war to them. They think their gods want them to do this to us. Do you think for one minute they would hesitate to stab you in the back? No they would not! They would go into your homes . . . " Tarius paced back and forth now. Even screaming, not all of them heard her, but it would filter through the ranks eventually till everyone knew what she said. " . . . they would rape your women and kill them, they would slit your children's throats and burn your homes to the ground. They would burn the fields so that anyone who did live through their attack would starve. And now because you didn't have the nerve to do what needed to be done, we did not get the edge we needed. Can you not see how badly out-numbered we are? If we fall here, those things will over-run your country and destroy it. They are like locusts. Kill one and three more will appear. Kill a dozen and a hundred will appear. This is war, haven't you learned by now that it isn't glorious? How many more of our men have to fall before you realize that this is not a game, and you can't play by any rules? We had the chance to even our odds, and you let them get away!"
The men all looked at their feet. Tarius just shook her head, walked back through the ranks and started up the plateau. Harris fell in behind her.
"I'm sorry, Tarius. I was as guilty as the rest. My heart also wasn't in it. I guess I didn't think . . ."
Tarius wasn't listening, she was mumbling to herself. "If I had ten Kartik soldiers, men or women, it wouldn't matter. If I had just ten, I could win this war. Stupid people, there are no ethics in war! There is only what works and what does not work." She started talking in a sissy voice. "I can't shoot people in the back; that's just wrong. We have to be on equal footing, too, and also have the same weapon. It has to be fair."
Tarius was funny, and Harris laughed in spite of himself. But when Tarius glared at him, he looked at his feet.
"They set a trap for us. A magic trick that got Gudgin and a lot of other good men killed. Was anyone thinking about that when they let the Amalites flee to re-group? What makes that any better or worse than killing them from behind?"
"Nothing, I suppose," Harris said. "For a moment I questioned your judgment, I'm very sorry . . ."
"Don't apologize. It's hard to get away from ideas that have been beaten into your head since your youth. Just don't let it happen again." She looked around suddenly. "Where's Dustan?"
"He stayed with Arvon and Brakston." Harris smiled. "I think he's sweet on Arvon."
"Is he?" Tarius asked in shock. She hadn't noticed. Of course she hadn't noticed a lot of things in the past few days. Something about narrow escapes from death, climbing over piles of dead bodies and being soaked in blood three to four times a day tended to wipe all other thought from Tarius's head. She certainly didn't understand how love could bloom in all this carnage. "Are you sure?"
Harris shrugged. "Admittedly I don't understand a man's attraction for another man, and I'm not very experienced when it comes to romance. However, when one person constantly asks questions about another person, when they find reasons to be around that person, when they purposely physically run into them, and when they ask if that person is taken . . . Well, I've seen all that with you and Jena, haven't I?" He grinned at the look on Tarius's face. "Oh, yes. I think even I now recognize when someone is stupid for someone else."
"I was never stupid for Jena," Tarius defended.
Harris laughed loudly and patted Tarius on the back. "Oh, yes, you were. You still are. All I have to do is say her name—Jena . . . and see? There is that stupid, far away look. Admittedly, she was more stupid . . ."
"Don't call Jena stupid!" Tarius growled out, glaring at Harris.
"Sorry. But that does sort of prove my point, doesn't it? I can call you stupid, and you merely protest. But if I suggest that Jena's stupid, you're ready to hit me." Harris smiled and looked smug. "I myself plan never to give my heart to any woman. I shall be now and forever a swordsman. Married to my sword and in the service of my knight."
It was Tarius's turn to laugh. "Oh, yes. I once sang that very song myself, and now look at me. By your own words, I am now stupid in love. It happens, and like a sword that finds its mark, it is too late to duck after you have been struck."
She stopped, whistled for her horse and waited for him to get there.
"You got your horse at the same time as I got mine. So why does yours act like a well-trained dog, and I have to hunt mine every time I dismount him and leave him untethered?" Harris asked, suddenly glad that he had a reason to change the subject. He didn't want to talk about it any more. Tarius was unique. He saw Harris as a whole man. He didn't understand that others didn't. Tarius didn't see the obvious; Harris would never have to worry about that particular "blow" hitting him, because no woman would ever chase him down the way Jena had chased down Tarius. No woman would ever want him. "So, what's your secret?"
"Well, first I rarely let anyone else feed or water him. And second," Tarius reached into a pocket in her pants and pulled out a fist full of greens. She held them out to the horse and he greedily devoured them. "I watched him eating and found that he had a fondness for this particular clover. So now every time I see it I pick it and put it into my saddlebags. I keep enough in my pocket so that I always smell like the clover to him. Every time he obeys a command I give some to him." She patted the horse, and taking hold of his reins she started to pull him along.
Harris just smiled and followed. "You have a trick for everything."
"The Kartik people live by their wits. The Kartik lands are never quiet. There are windstorms that will tear apart a house. Rain that falls in buckets or not at all. We live at the land's will. If we didn't have tricks, we would die out. We are clever only because we have to be. We aren't born clever, the Kartik land makes us that way," Tarius said.
"If it's so horrible, why would anyone live there at all?" Harris asked.
"Horrible! There is nothing horrible about it. It is the most beautiful of places. Plants grow there that you have never seen, and birds and animals of such magnitude and beauty that one never wants for sound or color. Nothing is dull on Kartik. There are few laws, but those are strictly upheld and enforced by the people themselves." As Tarius spoke, her voice took on a dream-like quality.
"If it's so wonderful, why did you ever leave?"
"The first time to find my father," Tarius said. "My throat had been cut by the Amalites when my mother was killed. Thinking that he had lost us both, he took off for Jethrik to help your people fight the Amalites. A young woman named Elise who had lost her children and her mate found me in a stack of bodies they were preparing to burn. I couldn't talk because I was very weak, and there were so many bodies on top of me that I could barely move. I had no way to let anyone know I was still alive except that I could move my hand. The burial squad thought the woman had gone mad with grief when she pulled me from the stack saying I was still alive. But when they saw that my main vein hadn't been cut and that I was still breathing, they sewed me up as best they could. The young woman claimed me as her own, vowing that she would one day take me to my father. She then hauled me half way across the island to the Springs of Montero. The springs have magical healing properties for my people, and they healed my wounds. I was even able to speak clearly." Although it changed the way I spoke forever. Making it easier for me to pass myself off as a man.
"When I was old enough to make such a trip, Elise took me across the sea to look for my father, for word of his greatness here had traveled even to Kartik. When we found him . . . " She stopped, smiling at the memory. "Ah! It was like we had never been parted. He realized Elise's attachment to me, and so he invited her to stay with us. We all lived together for years, traveling back and forth across the sea. My father trained me every day, whether at land or on sea, in the Kartik or in the Jethrik. When battle called him away, Elise continued my training. Every day, day in and day out, from the time I was old enough to hold a sword.
When I was twenty, my father helped me to make my sword. Every day we heated and pounded the metal. Every day for two months, pounding and folding the metal, then grinding and sharpening it till it was perfect. Then I took it and cut my finger off with it."
Harris made a face, and Tarius laughed.
"The blade was so sharp that I hardly felt it till they put the hot metal to it," Tarius laughed again at the almost sick look that came over Harris's face. "When the handle was complete and the sword was whole, it was like nothing I had ever held before. I felt invincible. I felt I couldn't possibly lose. That no one could ever cause me to feel the pain I had felt when they had killed my pac . . . village, and my mother.
"I lived with this delusion for two years. I hated it when we would stay here, but my father insisted that we must hold the Amalites back. He told me that this war we fight now was coming. I wish now that we had never come here; that we had stayed always in the Kartik. I believe that being here at the time we were changed both of our fates forever and changed what was simple into something too complicated for words.
"One night I was hunting in the woods. I couldn't hear or see anything at the home site, because I was miles from home. Yet I knew something was wrong." The events started to run through her head as she spoke. "I was young and stupid. I thought that I could protect the people I loved. It never dawned on me that my father, who was three times the swordsman I was, hadn't been able to. I ran through the woods so fast . . . I covered so much ground so quickly . . . I have no idea how I did it even now. I knew I had been a damn fool. Somehow I knew the worst was happening. I came into the clearing and the house was in flames. I arrived just in time to see a sword go through Elise's midsection. I saw her sword drop from her hand and land on a body below her. A body I knew instinctively belonged to my father. There was a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest. I guess I went berserk. I ran in hacking and slashing with no rhyme or reason to any move I made, and when I was done there were six dead Amalites. It didn't make me feel any better about my father or Elise. Hatred devoured me, and everything I did after that I did because of that burning hatred. Nothing mattered to me, nothing but killing the Amalites. Nothing, do you understand me, Harris? Nothing!"
There was such passion in Tarius's eyes that Harris dared not ignore him. "I think so." I understand that we never really changed the subject of the conversation. I understand that this is why you don't feel bad about shooting the Amalites in the back or anywhere else, and I understand that from now on I will obey you without question.
"Nothing at all mattered to me. My hatred made me blind to all the things I was doing. Because it just didn't matter what I did as long as it meant that I got to kill these bastards. Until I met Jena. Until Jena fell in love with me, and I felt once again the love of one who was connected to my soul. By then it was too late to change all that I had done. To undo it. I had to keep it all up. I had to."
Now Tarius had lost him. "What are you talking about, Tarius?" Harris asked in confusion.
Tarius looked as if he'd been caught napping on guard duty. "I . . . I have to . . ." She jumped quickly into her saddle. "I have to find Arvon." She rode off at a quick gallop.
Harris watched Tarius go. Finally he laughed, shook his head, and went off in search of his own horse. Being on horseback certainly gave him an edge in most battles, but there were times when you couldn't get to the actual fighting if you were on one unless you trampled your own men. He was going to try to train his horse the way Tarius had trained his.
* * *
Tarius hadn't found Arvon yet when she was summoned before the king. She rode up to the king's carriage and dismounted. The herald pointed her in the direction of the carriage, and she walked towards it. The door was opened for her, and she stepped inside. The king sat inside while his personal surgeon, Robert, cleaned a cut on the king's hand. Tarius looked at it and saw that it wasn't a sword blow but an armor cut. No doubt where the king's gauntlet had cut into him.
"Sit," Persius ordered, pointing at the seat across from him. "Tell me, for I believe wholly in your counsel concerning war, and all things pertaining to combat. You were in their camp. Is it really so bad that we must . . . kill men from behind?"
"If you insist on playing by gentleman's rules, we shall not win. Every one of us will die in the valley below. They easily out number us ten men to our every one. I was wrong to separate our forces . . ."
"No, you were right." Persius handed Tarius a piece of paper. "The herald delivered this into my hands only a few moments ago. They were getting reinforcements, and our units along their supply routes have stopped many shipments of food and medical supplies as well as hundreds of soldiers. They have done this easily and with few casualties. Meanwhile, the fifth division will be here in only two more days."
"That may not be soon enough." Tarius looked thoughtful for a few minutes and then nodded as if making up her mind. "Send one man to each of the surrounding villages that are less than a half day's ride away. Let him gather every able-bodied man with any weapon and a horse and bring him to the front. It will leave the villages unprotected, but I think all the Amalites are there below us anyway. It may give us enough men to push on till the fifth division gets here."
Persius wrote down what Tarius had said and then called for the herald, who appeared in the doorway. Persius handed the note to the herald. "See that these orders are carried out immediately."
Robert had been having a hell of a time trying to doctor the king's hand while he was moving all around talking to the Kartik bullyboy. Now the king pulled his hand away altogether. "That's good enough. Take care of Tarius's face. We don't want him to be so ugly that even his wife won't love him."
Tarius sat still as Robert roughly washed the dried blood from the wound and Tarius's face. No doubt dirt and dust had stopped the bleeding, and as the doctor cleaned it, it began to bleed again. It was a bad cut which ran from the corner of the right eye to almost the middle of the chin.
"Take this," Robert said offering some powders.
Tarius held her mouth shut tight and shook her head no. She remembered what his powders had done to her before. Knew that she couldn't become the Katabull if he gave them to her, and they were going to need the Katabull tonight whether they knew it or not.
"Take them, don't be a fool. I have to put stitches in that," Robert said.
"I can take a stitch without wincing," Tarius assured him.
Robert looked at Persius, and the king shrugged. The surgeon threaded his needle and started to stitch the wound. Tarius was as good as her word; she didn't move a muscle even though it felt like he was trying to tear her face off.
"That's a bad cut," Persius said conversationally. "He damn near had you."
Tarius was silent for obvious reasons, and Persius went on. "I called a cease fire on my line when they started to retreat. It goes against the Jethrik code of honor to shoot or stab a man in the back. You know that. Yet it didn't keep you from ordering the men to continue lobbing arrows into their backs. It didn't keep you from going after them. Because you understand the code in a way that none of the rest of us truly do. Because first and foremost, as a Swordmaster you must defend the kingdom, and as king, I must protect the people. As you said, we can't do that if we are dead. We know as you do what the Amalites are capable of, and that they badly out number us. We know that we have been losing this war, and that we were losing earlier this day. Yet it was only you who remembered even under the pressure of battle what we are really fighting for. Not honor or glory, we fight for our lives and the lives of our people. How odd it is that you, a sword-wielding, out-country warlord should be teaching me how to be a better king!"
Robert had finished the stitching, and Tarius rejected his attempts to dress the wound. Anything sticking out would get in her line of sight. The swelling was bad enough. She looked at Persius, and smiled as if she'd heard none of his praise. "So, am I too ugly for Jena?" she asked.
Persius smiled back. "You always were, you ugly Kartik bastard . . . Why don't you go and get some rest?"
Tarius nodded and got up. She opened the door and stepped out of the carriage.
"Tarius!" Persius called after her. She turned to face him. "Be more careful; I need you."
"Thank you, Sire." She bowed to him and then walked off.
"Well, I'll be damned," Persius said in disbelief.
"What's that, Sire?" Robert asked.
"Nothing," Persius said. "Go on now. Attend to the real wounded. Make sure my best men get worked on first, then anyone who will be able to fight tomorrow. Anyone too badly wounded to fight tomorrow gets shipped back to the villages for treatment."
Persius watched the surgeon go, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to rest. Tarius had never bowed to him before. "So, Tarius the Black finally respects me! And what did I do to deserve that respect?" Persius frowned. "I sanctioned stabbing men in the back." He rubbed his hands down his face. The world had gone mad. In war nothing was wrong but losing. No blacks and whites, only areas of gray. Whatever it took, whatever worked.
* * *
Robert walked towards the makeshift surgery. Just a big tent, really. The wounded were stacked up all around the outside of it. The medics were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, doing little but making the wounded more nervous than they already were. Robert waded in and got right to work. He tried to direct the medics, but they were all soldiers, and they didn't respect or listen to him because he wasn't.
It was ironic really. Not long ago he had been complaining about never seeing any serious injuries, and right now he'd give all he had to be able to treat a simple kitchen burn. The working conditions were impossible, and he needed help. Suddenly Tarius appeared by his side. Robert fully expected him to shout some orders at him, but instead he started to help him with the patient he was working on.
"This is a mess up in here," Tarius said, handing the surgeon some gauze. "You need more help, and the severely wounded need to be field dressed and shipped out."
Robert nodded and snapped. "I know that, but none of you military types will listen to a word I say."
"Oh, yes, they will." Tarius stood up. "Listen up!" Tarius screamed. He got almost instant silence. "We have lots of wounded here, and the men are still retrieving them from below. I need twenty more men to work as medics over here. I need wagons to haul the badly wounded to the nearest village, and I expect those wagons to come back loaded with able-bodied men. This man is the king's surgeon. He is very learned, and we are lucky to have him. He will run this surgery, and until further notice all medics will report to him and take orders directly from him. Anyone who does not listen to him and follow his orders will have to answer to me. Now where the hell are my volunteers?"
Robert watched in amazement as fifty men showed up. Tarius picked twenty and sent the rest out to the battlefield to bring in any wounded they found. Robert started giving orders, and the medics listened. Trained medics each took one of the volunteers to help them set up a triage, and soon they had things under control. The badly wounded were being field dressed and sent off, and the others were having their wounds treated. Seeing that things were working well, Tarius started to leave.
"Sir Tarius!" Robert called out.
Tarius turned to face him. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
Tarius smiled and nodded. "Thank you. For treating my men, and for sewing up my face. I should have thanked you then, but . . ." Tarius moved up close to him and whispered. "Between you and me, it hurt too damn much. I almost passed out. I would have taken the powders, because they helped me before, but could you see me handling all of this with those powders in my system?"
"I suppose not." Robert watched Tarius go. Kartik bullyboy he might be, but you had to respect him all the same.
* * *
Tarius made the crossbowmen take shifts in the trees, serving as both defense and watch. After she got the camp lined out and all of their wounded had been hauled in, she went to search for Arvon. She found him, not to surprisingly giving a sword lesson to young Dustan. She smiled and shook her head.
"Arvon!" She motioned with her head, and he came over to her. "It's almost dark."
"Are we going there again? Is that safe?"
"We are, and it's not, but we've got to cut the odds," Tarius said.
"Brakston's starting to ask questions," Arvon said. "And I can't seem to shake your newly-acquired page."
"Harris tells me he thinks the boy has a 'thing' for you," Tarius said, smiling at the look that came over her friend's face.
Arvon looked over at the youth who smiled back at him, and he sighed. "My mind was so far away from that, that it never even crossed my mind. He is kind of cute, though, isn't he?"
Tarius grabbed Arvon's chin and made him look at her. "Well, keep your mind off of it right now. We have work to do. Meet me by the big oak by the creek as soon as it's nightfall."
Arvon nodded.
* * *
He found Tarius asleep under the tree. She woke when one of his feet stepped on a twig and it snapped. She flipped her legs up, arched her back forward, and was on her feet with sword in hand in a flash.
"Wow!" Arvon said holding up his hands. He smiled at her. "Tarius, you're exhausted; I'm exhausted. They're going to be waiting for us, for anyone . . ."
"That's why we're going to sneak into their camp."
"And could it hurt to have a little help to do that?" Hellibolt had appeared from apparently nowhere, and they both turned on him with swords in hand.
"You old fool," Tarius said breathing heavily. She lowered her voice to a whisper and spoke to Arvon, "He's a friend . . . almost. So, what do you mean, old man? What sort of help?"
"Take back what you said, or I shan't help you at all," Hellibolt said crossing his arms across his chest and putting his nose in the air.
Tarius went over what she had said until she found the offensive item. "You are no fool, however it is stupid to sneak up on armed warriors."
"Point taken. I was thinking something in a nice stealth spell. Help you hide and keep you from being heard or scented."
"But magic doesn't work on the Katabull," Tarius said.
Hellibolt sighed disgusted with her ignorance. "The spell isn't against you. It's against them."
"Good, that would be great then," Tarius said. "Do a stealth spell."
"Little Katabull in the spring, they can do most anything. Let them go; let no one see what these two might really be," Hellibolt intoned.
Arvon made a face and looked at Tarius. She shrugged. "They're not very pretty, but they seem to work."
* * *
The Katabull sneaked into the Amalite camp where they killed men as they slept. They grabbed men from behind and slit their throats. When they had killed a great many of them, they let their presence be known, sending the Amalites into a panic. Then they ran from the camp and into the night.
They went back to where their horses were tied and grazing by the creek. They changed back to human form, and Arvon started to throw up. Tarius patted him on the back, and Arvon pulled away. He sat on a rock and put his head in his hands. He was shaking. He looked over at Tarius, who seemed unmoved by what they had just done.
"Do you feel nothing?" Arvon asked, near tears. "I know what we did will help. I know it might very well mean the difference between winning and losing, but . . . I can't help but feel as if I left a piece of my soul back there with the first sleeping man's throat I cut."
"I feel, Arvon, but not for them. Never for them. See, they made me what I am today. They did it to me years ago, and now they have made you what you are right now. If that isn't reason enough in itself to hate them, then I don't know what is." She walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Do what I have done for years. Don't think about it; put it out of your mind, because to face it too fully is to go mad."
"How can I put something like that out of my mind? I snuck into their tents and cut their throats. They didn't have a chance," Arvon said. Now his tears did fall. "At the time I did it without thinking. It's the Katabull; it's the beast within. It doesn't care what it does; it is without conscience."
"You are the Katabull, Arvon, and the Katabull is you. Blaming it on the Katabull is the same as blaming it on yourself. It's like a drunk blaming the liquor for a crime he committed. He only did what he would have done sober if he wasn't too afraid," Tarius said.
"Are you saying I wanted to kill those men like that? That I enjoyed it?"
"No. I'm saying that you knew what had to be done, and being Katabull just gave you the courage to do it."
"It really doesn't bother you, does it?" Arvon asked, drying his eyes.
"It does. I'd rather not have to do it, but they won't leave us alone. They won't let people be. They won't be happy until they have killed every nonbeliever, and that's you and me and everyone and everything we love. It's funny, because you're older than me, but you know what your problem is, my brother? You haven't learned what it means to truly hate yet."