Darian watched them playing in the courtyard with no sense of joy. Tarius and his class were well into their second term. The country was deep at war with the Amalites, and keeping the second year students quiet was a daily chore. They all wanted to go fight on the front. Tarius was worse than the others.
It was their spring break, and while most of the students had gone home to help their families with much needed crops at this time of war, a few had stayed. Among them were Tarius who had no home to go to, and Tragon who seemed to be afraid to get too far away from Jena. It was obvious that Jena's heart lay with Tarius, but Tarius was impossible to read. On the other hand, Tragon was obviously in love with Jena, and she didn't even know he was alive.
It seemed to Darian that Tarius tried to push Jena towards Tragon on a regular basis, and the more he did it, the more deeply Jena yearned for Tarius. It hurt Darian to see her this way, and he didn't understand Tarius at all. It was like he purposely fought his feelings for her.
It was a big awful mess.
For now Harris, Jena, Tragon and Tarius played ball in the courtyard like four kids with not a care in the world. The game kept their minds off the very real problems here and at the front.
Tarius grabbed the ball in midair, and as he came down Jena tackled him to the ground. She used any excuse to touch him, and at least for the moment he seemed only too willing to oblige. They laughed as they rolled on the ground, and Darian could see the hurt in Tragon's eyes. Jena never encouraged Tragon's advances. He knew where he stood, but that couldn't have made him feel any better. It must seem to him that his friend was always to best him at everything.
* * *
The king looked at the motley entourage and grimaced. Persius tried to be diplomatic because Jero was the most powerful of the six barbarian kings, and he didn't want to provoke him when he might very shortly need him as an ally. Jero thought he brought Persius great honor, but unfortunately Persius was neither in the mood nor prepared for Jero to honor him in the barbarian's own special way. Persius had a war to attend to, and a country to try and feed when the enemy was setting whole fields on fire.
More to the point, considering the problem Jero's presence brought, most of his good fighting men were in the field.
"Good king Jero! There is no swordsman currently in my palace who can best your champion, so there would be no contest," Persius said from his perch on the throne.
"If you forfeit, we win, and your kingdom is mine . . ."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait just a minute! That is your law, not ours," Persius said quickly.
"I bring you great honor, and you throw my deed into my face. You have no honor. Your kingdom is weak, and we shall overtake you," Jero said.
Damn touchy, these barbarians. Persius drew in a deep breath. What an unbridled mess! On most days the barbarian's threat would have meant nothing. However at this particular moment, he was down to a fistful of personal guards. Everyone of any prowess in battle had been sent to the front, leaving the capital city basically unguarded. In retrospect, not a very bright thing to have done.
Jero chose this moment to show up with fifty armed soldiers. They could rip the city to shreds before they could be contained, if they could be.
"Not understanding your laws, I spoke too quickly. Let me talk to the captain of my guard. I will have an opponent for your champion to fight at sunset and a great feast in your honor as well."
Jero and his entourage bowed, pounding their fist against their chests, grunted and left the throne room.
"Rutson! Send for Darian! I think he has a man who can champion us."
* * *
It was not his choice to make. The king had asked for the boy by name. Darian watched Tarius walk from the bunkhouse with his sword on his back and his helmet under his arm, wearing the armor he had come to them in.
Jena was crying and hanging on Darian's arm.
"Send anyone else, Father, but don't send Tarius. I beg you!" Jena pleaded.
"Daughter, let me go!" Darian shook her hand off. "If you are going with us, dress appropriately."
"I'm going, but I'm not watching," Jena said. Then she ran to Tarius, threw herself into the boy's arms, and started crying, pleading with him to decline the fight.
Darian threw up his hands. He gave up. There was no turning Jena into a proper lady. Trips to her aunt's house only seemed to bring her back more determined than ever to have Tarius on her own terms.
* * *
Tarius got into the waiting carriage, but Jena wouldn't let go. She sat beside her as they waited for the others.
Jena's tears cut Tarius to the core. "Jena, please stop. I will be fine. Look at me. I'm not afraid, why should you be?"
"I'm afraid because you're not afraid. Because you are a moron. You don't have the good sense to be afraid." Jena cried, drying her eyes and wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "All you think of is the great honor that has been bestowed on you."
"I will always be doing this because I am not a careful man. See how much better a husband Tragon would make you than I?" Tarius said.
"For the hundredth time . . . It is not him I love. It is you. Only you. You said you loved me, too, once. Remember?"
Yes, and that was a huge mistake I have regretted daily since. I should have used my head to stay my heart and my tongue, Tarius thought with a sigh.
Tragon stepped into the carriage then. It was obvious by the look on his face that he had heard what Jena said, but this wasn't the only reason he was white as a sheet. He was to be Tarius's second. Tragon had already begged her not to pay any attention to Jena's pleas. "If I fight in your stead, Tarius, I will die as surely as you will live to fight another day."
Tarius had assured him that she had no intention of declining the fight.
When Justin and Darian climbed into the carriage the driver took off.
It was a royal carriage. Very nice, Tarius decided. If she was riding to her death, at least she was doing it in style. Her death would certainly solve a lot of problems. She sighed again, she wasn't afraid, she was too conceited for that. She was sure she was going to win. What was bothering her had little to do with the imminent battle and everything to do with the blond girl who sat beside her hanging on her arm and soaking her armor with her tears. Tarius had no idea at all what to do about Jena or the way she felt about her. However, death seemed like the easiest way out.
It took them the better part of an hour to reach the castle.
It was a grand palace with four towers that kissed the sky. It was made of hand-cut stones, none of which were smaller than a man. The castle had been built over a period of nearly a hundred years, added on to by three different kings, and redecorated inside and out at the whim of the queens. There was no moat, but the main gates were made of six-inch thick oak boards, and would be a deterrent to any attack. Truth was, the castle was so far in country that it had never had to stand against a siege.
They were escorted through the courtyard and into the main hall. Darian leaned down to his daughter.
"For the gods' sake, Jena, show a little pride. Let go of the boy's arm, and for once in your wretched life act like a lady," Darian scolded.
Tarius cringed when she heard Darian's harsh words to his daughter. Tarius didn't want Jena to change. She wanted Jena to stay just the way she was. Yet she knew if she continued to spurn Jena's affections the way she had, there was a very good chance that Jena would become the woman her father wanted her to be, thinking it was the only way anyone would ever love her.
Tarius purposefully moved and took Jena's arm, linking it through hers, so that it looked more proper. Then she leaned down and whispered in Jena's ear, "Don't ever change, Jena. You are perfect just the way you are."
Jena very purposefully became a drag on Tarius's arm till they were far behind the others. She stopped and turned to look at Tarius.
"See? Why do you say things like that and then push me away? I don't understand you, Tarius."
"Why do you have to make things so hard?" Tarius sighed. "You know how I feel about you. I have told you. It is my curse that I can't give you what you want; I wish that I could, but I can't. I can't be who you think I am. Can't you just fall in love with Tragon? He does care so very deeply for you, and he'd be good to you. He could give you what you want."
"No he couldn't, he's like all the rest, he'd want me to change into what he wants and in the meanwhile he would never be who I want, because I only want you. How do you feel about me, Tarius? Tell me; you may go out there and die to save a foolish king's honor, so tell me truthfully. How do you feel about me?"
Tarius looked at her. "I do love you, Jena. But love isn't a magic word that makes things right. You and I could never be together. I could never fit into your world, and you will never fit into mine."
Jena didn't let her say any more. She slung her arms around Tarius's neck and kissed her, good, long and hard, and Tarius couldn't help but kiss her back.
Darian seemingly appeared out of nowhere, grabbed Tarius by the shoulder and started pulling her away. "Oh, for the gods' sake, Jena! He's got work to do! Don't turn his mind to all of that."
* * *
The feast was almost as big as her opponent. She didn't eat at all. She watched him carefully as he gorged himself. A fight to the death, and he was eating and drinking like it was his last meal—which Tarius vowed it would be.
However, if she died in the fight that would sure save everyone a lot of grief.
Darian sat to the left of the king this night, while Tarius, acting as King's Champion, sat on the right. It was a great honor that was completely wasted on Tarius. Jena sat beside Tarius, picking at her food and mumbling little things about how stupid Tarius was for any number of reasons. Tarius just sat there grinning at every derogatory thing Jena said to her. Why did the damnable woman have to be so stinking appealing?
Persius forced a smile for the barbarian king as he leaned towards Darian and said, "He's really got our jewels in a vice. Makes me wonder if the bastard wasn't fully aware that every good swordsman in the kingdom was away on campaign."
"Your best swordsman is here, my king. Tarius will take him easily," Darian assured the monarch.
"Let's hope so. The gods' alone know what these animals will do if he loses." Persius smiled then. "I hear there may be a match there," he said nodding his head in the direction of Tarius and Jena. "Of course, only if Tarius wins tonight."
"My daughter is very smitten by the lad. He, however, seems reluctant. I can't tell you that I would be disappointed by such a coupling," Darian said.
* * *
When the barbarians were so liquored up they could hardly walk they called for the battle to begin. The barbarian wore no helmet, so Tarius brushed hers aside when Tragon handed it to her.
"Tarius! In the name of your god!" Tragon said, offering the helmet to her again.
"My god has no name," Tarius said with a smile, "and I will need no helmet. I will win, Tragon."
Tragon nodded. He looked at Jena and hated himself for the thought that came into his head. "Fight well, my brother."
Jero walked over and looked Tarius up and down. He laughed. "What insult is this? You send a boy who doesn't even shave to fight my champion?"
"He is of age. He is of the Kartik people, and they do not shave. He is young and small, yes, but well skilled as are all my Swordmasters. Your champion will find him a worthy opponent."
"Your ego will lead only to your ruin. My champion shall hack this boy to pieces," Jero said.
Persius looked at Tarius. He was like a wild animal ready to spring. "Let the fight begin." Persius raised his hand and a horn was sounded.
Jero's champion didn't wait for the horn to quit sounding. He ran full speed at Tarius, wielding a sword easily twice as big as the one Tarius carried. Tarius stood there till the giant of a man was almost on her, then stepped smartly out of the way. As the man passed her she swung the flat of her blade into the back of his legs, and he went crashing to the earth. Tarius stood back in a ready stance and gave the man time to rise and face her.
"Damn it! He is his father's son," Tragon heard Darian tell the king. "The man is roughly three times his size, and he's playing with him!"
The man was mad now, and he ran at Tarius, swinging just as soon as he was within sword range. Tarius caught the blade easily, forced it down, and then slid her blade up his till it sunk neatly into the meat of his shoulder. She quickly drew her sword all the way across his shoulder and jumped back.
The barbarian finally seemed to realize that he could not intimidate this opponent. When next he approached Tarius it was with skill instead of strength. But instead of standing calmly to meet the attack as she had with the first two, Tarius screamed like someone posesed and jumped in the air, bringing both feet to rest in the big man's chest. At nearly the same moment that her feet landed on the man's chest, her blade slid quickly and precisely across the man's neck, cutting the man's throat completely and evenly. Without seeming to have stopped, she completed the vault over her opponent's dying body, and landed on the ground facing his back. Both her feet were firmly planted on the ground, and her blade was at the ready, but all she really had to do was jump out of the way when he fell. Which he did in stages, first his head and then his body.
Tarius bowed to the king then wiped her fingers down her blade clearing it of blood, flipped her fingers in the air to clean them, and wiped the remainder on her pants.
Tragon wasn't sure how he felt.
The crowd went wild, and Tarius looked at Jena just in time to see her peeking out from behind her fingers. She looked at Tarius and started to cry again—this time in relief.
What the hell am I going to do about you? You are ruining everything, and you don't even know you're doing it! Tarius thought.
Jero broke the cheering with angry words. "It is a trick! Foul magic!"
Persius was undaunted. "You make excuses for your kinsman's bad swordsmanship. There is no magic here. Do you not know that all Swordmaster's of the Jethrik fight as Tarius does? It is why we are the mightiest kingdom in all the land."
"If my witch should say that there is magic in his blade . . ." Jero started.
"Then your witch would be a liar. Have you so little honor that you will not admit to defeat? My man was a better swordsman. No more and no less. The competition is over. Let us remove the body and continue with our merry-making as good allies should."
Jero reluctantly agreed. The body was removed, and the party went on.
Tarius sat down beside Jena and started to eat.
"How can you eat when you have just killed a man less than ten feet from here, even as his corpse is removed?" Jena asked in disgust. "When his blood is still on your hands!"
"Well, I couldn't eat before, it would have made me sluggish," Tarius explained calmly.
"That's not the first man you've killed is it?" Jena asked.
"Not by a long way." Tarius laughed. "Now it's I who don't understand you. I thought you wanted me to win. I thought you didn't want me to die."
"I didn't. Thank the gods you're all right." Jena was confused. "But shouldn't you feel some remorse?"
Tarius shrugged. "He would have killed me. Now take Tragon. There's a man who has never killed and will feel sad when he does."
Jena slapped at Tarius playfully and smiled in spite of herself. "You really are the most awful person I have ever known."
"That is rather my point, dear lady."
* * *
"I have never in my life seen a swordsman such as Tarius," the king said to Darian.
"Nor have I. Not even his father was as good as he is," Darian said.
"He's extraordinary!"
"He's not human," a soft voice spoke behind them. It was Old Hellibolt, the palace mage. Persius' father had put great store in the old man's council. Persius more or less ignored him.
"Not human!" Persius laughed. "He is Jabon the Breaker's son."
"Who knows for a surety that Jabon was human? And only the blind would believe that thing is male!" Hellibolt was gone almost as quickly as he had appeared.
"What did he mean?" Darian asked.
Persius shrugged. "Who knows? He grows more senile by the day. These days it seems that he is constantly feeding me some riddle or making some prophesy of doom." He turned his attentions to young Tarius. "Good Tarius, do you find the food to your liking?"
"Aye, Sire," Tarius said. "I am sorry to be such a glutton."
"Nonsense, my boy, you have earned it," Persius said. "You are by far the finest swordsman I have ever seen, Tarius."
"Thank you, Sire," he said.
Persius looked hard at the boy. Damn! He was a pretty one. Old Hellibolt was right; he did look like a woman. Persius found him oddly attractive and quit looking at him for that very reason. He had four wives—all beautiful women, and he was well pleased with them. He was not now and never had been attracted to men. For this reason Tarius made him uncomfortable. Damned old fool! He never would have thought it if Hellibolt hadn't said something.
Suddenly Tarius was on his feet, and the chair he had been sitting in was unceremoniously thrown to the floor. Steel crashed above Persius head, and he looked up just in time to see Tarius's blade pressed hard against a blade which would have crushed Persius' skull.
Tarius pushed the attacker off his blade and then pushed his blade forward hard to catch the attacker in his side. This seemed to do nothing but anger the attacker who slung his blade into Tarius. Tarius countered, but not before the blade had hit.
The attack had caught Tarius off guard. She hadn't expected an attack, much less that they could sneak one past the king's two guards standing just a few feet behind him. She wouldn't make another mistake, and she wouldn't play games. She brought her blade up and blocked the blow coming for her head, spinning his blade. She used the momentum to carry her blade to the man's chest. She jabbed upwards just under the solar plexus, plunged up into the man's heart, then twisted leaving nothing to chance. Tarius threw the man off her blade, and he fell to the floor, convulsing for a few minutes before he died.
"What treachery is this?" Persius demanded getting to his feet. He stared at Jero. "Explain yourself."
"He was the brother of my champion. He must have been upset. I assure you he acted on his own," Jero said quickly.
"This man is a liar," Tarius whispered to the king. "He is filled with deceit. There is no honor in him. If he was angry over his brother, why go after you? Why not kill me?"
Persius nodded that he understood what Tarius was saying. "Better a guarded truce than none at all," he whispered to Tarius.
To Jero he said simply, "Let's pray no one else should decide to defend his blood, or I'm afraid there will be none of you left by dawn."
He drew his own sword from its scabbard on his side and held it out towards Tarius. "I know it is not your custom to bow down before any man. Therefore stand erect and let me bestow upon you the honor of being one of my knights." He tapped his sword on both of Tarius's shoulders. "Now go to the infirmary, and my own surgeon will attend to your wound, Sir Tarius."
"Thank you, Sire," Tarius said nodding her head.
Jena took her by one arm and Tragon by the other, and they started to lead her towards the infirmary. A servant was leading the way. "Come on ya mighty bastard," Tragon said only half joking. "It's not enough that you best us all at the sword, but now you have become a knight before any of us have even made Swordmaster."
The surgeon looked at the wound through the pants and rubbed his hands together. "Ah! It's going to need stitching." He sounded damn near giddy about the prospect. As the king's surgeon he most likely didn't really get to treat anything more than the staff's occasional scrapes and burns. "All right, off with your clothes.'
"No," Tarius said plainly. "Stitch it through the hole."
"Young man . . . ." the doctor started.
Tragon cleared his throat. "That's 'Sir'."
The doctor looked more than a little surprised. "Sir, then. You can't expect me to stitch your wound through the hole in your pants!"
"I'm not wearing any under drawers," Tarius explained quickly.
"I'll leave the room," Jena said shyly.
"You may if you want, but I'm not taking my pants off." Tarius was on the verge of panic. She was pretty sure that a doctor was going to notice right off that she didn't have a dick.
"Why ever not?" the doctor asked.
Tarius couldn't think of a lie quickly enough, but thank the Nameless One that Tragon did.
"It's against his religion. He's Kartik, don't you see? A follower of the Nameless God. They don't take off their clothes in front of others, not even their own spouses. They only undress in total darkness. I've been his sword brother for almost two years now, and he doesn't even shower with the rest of us."
"I can't promise to do much of a job through your pants," the doctor said.
"Just do it," Tarius demanded. She could feel the blood running down her leg and filling her boot. It hurt, and she felt weak. If she passed out, there would be no keeping them from undressing her.
He gave her some powder—in spite of the fact she told him she didn't need it—that was supposed to help with the pain, but all it did was make her head fuzzy. She still felt every damn punch with the needle. Jena was standing in front of her, and she seemed to come in and out of focus. That was the last thing she saw—either blood loss or the drugs knocked her cold.
* * *
She woke in the morning with a pain in her head to match the one in her hip, and she promised herself she'd never let them give her any of that powdered crap again. She reached for her sword and grabbed flesh instead.
She opened her eyes carefully. She was clean, dressed in her academy uniform, and Jena was wrapped all around her. Jena's arms were around her waist, Jena's head was resting on her chest, and her own arms were around Jena. Jena stirred, stretched, and looked up at Tarius. She answered the question that was on Tarius's mind in a sleepy, sexy voice.
"Your sword is under the bed."
"How . . ."
"Tragon cleaned and dressed you. He did it in the dark so as not to break your custom. You were pretty out of it with the powders by the time we got you home."
Tarius realized she was in Darian's house no doubt in a guest bedroom.
"You should not be here," Tarius said in a sad, low voice.
"I don't see you letting me go," Jena said.
"All the more reason that you shouldn't be here." Tarius didn't let her go even then. She moved and kissed the top of Jena's head. "You are ruining everything, don't you understand that? I had things all planned out, and you are ruining them. Men would fight for your love why can't you go after one of them and leave me alone?"
"I only want you," Jena said quietly. "And I don't believe that you really want me to leave you alone, or I would, no matter how much I love you."
"But you don't really love me, and I shouldn't love you."
"Don't tell me how I feel, Tarius, and why shouldn't you love me? What's wrong with me?" Jena asked forlornly.
"There is nothing at all wrong with you Jena, you are perfect. It's me, I'm what's wrong. I'm no good for anyone. Steel is all that really matters to me, Jena. Strong metal, limber flesh, and the skill to use them. That is all that I am, and all that I will ever be."
"And all that I will ever be is the woman who loves you," Jena said.
"Dammit, Jena, you don't even know who or what I am. I have secrets, Jena, so many secrets, dark secrets. There are things that you will never know about me. Things that I will never tell you. Will you be happy like that?" Tarius asked angrily. "Happy knowing that I have secrets which would rip you apart? That you will never truly know me?"
"If I am with you, I will be happy." Jena ran a hand down Tarius's cheek. "Nothing else matters to me anymore, Tarius."
"But I will be gone most of the time when my training is finished. There is a war and soon I will be sent there. I may never come back . . ."
"You will always come back, Tarius, and I will always be waiting for you. My heart tells me this."
"If you keep doing things as stupid as crawling into my bed, no other man will have you, and you really will be stuck with me," Tarius scolded.
"I would give my whole self to you this very minute willingly if you would only have me," Jena said unashamed. She moved so that her head was just above Tarius's, and Tarius pulled her down to her in a long, passionate kiss.
She wanted her. Her god help her she wanted this woman. Her hand found its way up Jena's nightdress, and she started to carress her flesh even as her tongue probed Jena's hungry, eager mouth. Reason and logic fled, passion stole her good sense, and in that moment she just forgot how impossible the whole situation was.
Darian stormed in unannounced, took one look at the scene and started screaming at Jena, though why the whole thing was somehow Jena's fault alone Tarius didn't really understand. "Jena, for the gods' own sake! Must you act like a common whore!"
Jena untangled herself from Tarius and jumped from the bed smoothing her clothes as she did so, as if swift movement would somehow make Darian believe he hadn't seen what he had seen. She looked at her feet knowing that it probably wasn't going to work.
Tarius for her part seemed to be temporarily frozen to the bed.
"The man doesn't want you! How many times must he tell you this? How many different ways? Do you think this kind of thing will be kept silent forever? No good man will have you if you keep this up. Why do you think Tarius isn't interested? Only because you throw yourself at his feet; because you act like the lowest harlot at the pub."
He kept going on, and Jena just stared at her feet, looking sadder and more confused by the minute.
Tarius looked at her. Damn I want you! I want you more than my sword. More than a stupid title and more than I want to kill my enemies. I've fooled everyone else. Who's to say I couldn't fool you? You've never been with a man, and I've been with plenty of women. I know I could please you. Everything else I have done—all the other deception has been for everyone else. Why couldn't I do this for me? She loves me; I love her. It could work. I can't stand to hear Darian talk to her like this, not when he's so wrong. Not when it's all my fault.
Tarius jumped to her feet, and almost fell down. Jena caught and held her; she was a strong woman. Maybe strong enough.
"You are wrong, Darian. There is nothing wrong with Jena, and it is not that I don't want her. Only that I do not deserve such a woman as she. She is perfect, and practically anyone would make her a much better husband than I. I am wild and unkempt if left to my own. What you see now is what the academy has made of me, and when my schooling is done I shall return to my old form. The hair will grow back; the leather will go back on. I'll bathe when I please and come and go without cause or warning. But since she seems determined to have me, and since I would have no one—least of all you—defame her, then I will have no choice but to marry her."
My God what have I done?
Apparently Jena was as shocked as she was because it seemed to take her a moment to realize what Tarius had said. When she did, she hugged her so hard she almost sent them both crashing to the floor.
Darian just stood there with his mouth open for a minute. The he laughed out loud. " It had never occurred to me before. Your own mother was a woman of the sword. No doubt Jena does seem a "perfect" woman to you."
"So, what do you say old man?" Tarius asked. "Will you give me your fine daughter for a wife?"
"Yes, Sir Tarius, I will," Darian said beaming with pride.