"You did what!" Tragon screamed, angry and shocked to his very core.
"You heard me."
They were off in the woods behind the academy.
"Then you are crazier than I thought, Tarius. Crazier than anyone thought. How the hell do you think you're going to pull this one off? Don't you think she's going to notice that you don't have the necessary equipment?"
"I've made love to many women, many times. There are other ways to please women . . ."
"Queer women maybe, but Jena isn't queer. She thinks you're a man for the gods' sake! You know how I feel about her, damn it! How could you do this to me? I'll rat you out, I swear I will. I'll tell her all about you. I'll tell them all about you . . ."
Tarius grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. When Tragon looked down he was looking into the face of the Katabull. "And before they kill me, if they can—which I doubt—I will kill you and take her away to the Kartik with me. That's a promise," Tarius hissed. "I love her, and no one—least of all you—is going to stop me from having her."
"I hate you!" Tragon said with real venom, trying to squirm free of Tarius's grasp. "I feel like you have stolen everything which should have been mine, and you don't even belong here! Not at the academy, not even in our country! I wish I had told as soon as I found out. Then none of this would have happened—not to me and not to Jena."
"Nothing has happened to you except that you weren't ejected from the academy. As for Jena . . . she is not your property or your worry." Tarius put him down, fixing his collar with an expression on her face she knew put fear into the hearts of men. "Try to betray me, Tragon, and I will make damn sure you pay."
The look of fear on his face as he turned away from her rather detracted from the impact of Tragon's silence as he stomped away from her. He was mad, but she knew he wouldn't say anything. Tragon worried about nothing quite as much as he worried about his own neck. And Tragon didn't really love Jena, he wanted her because he was a rich boy of privilege who'd been handed everything he ever wanted, and he didn't like to be told no. At one time Tarius had believed Tragon loved Jena, but now she knew he didn't. If he truly loved Jena, he'd do more than rat Tarius out, he'd kill her in her sleep.
Tarius would kill for Jena, she'd die for her, if this weren't true she'd have walked away from the woman and never taken all the chances she was taking now.
She knew it was crazy. She just didn't seem to be able to stop herself.
After Tarius had hunted and returned to her human form she walked back onto the academy grounds, and Jena met her, immediately wrapping her arm around Tarius's waist. Tarius draped an arm over Jena's shoulders.
"How did he take it?" she asked.
"He'll learn to live with it in time. I imagine if he thought he could take me in a fight he would have hit me."
"Everyone will be coming back tomorrow," Jena said. "Classes start. Father says you have to go back to the barracks and continue your training."
"It's only right . . ."
"But you're a knight now, Tarius! That's better than a Swordmaster. You're not healed yet; how can you be expected to practice?"
"I don't want to be treated differently. Not because I'm going to marry the headmaster's daughter, and not because I'm a knight. I want to finish my training and go to the front with my brothers. I want to help drive back the Amalite horde; hopefully annihilate them completely. Their history is a tapestry of murder and death. They will never stop until either we or they are all dead. We must do more than defend our borders. We must go into their land and burn them out in the same way that they burn us out. We must give back better than we get. Only then will there ever be rest in the world. Only then will there be peace."
"I wish . . . I don't want to be separated from you."
"And when they are utterly destroyed, you won't have to be," Tarius promised.
* * *
Tarius limped into the arena practice sword in hand only four days after having been wounded. Most of the accomplished Swordmasters were on the front, and that left students to train students. Since Tarius was the best one there, Darian had been having her train the new recruits as well as her fellow cadets.
Tragon greeted Tarius in the middle of the circle with a bold hug. Tarius gave him an odd look, and Tragon answered her unasked question.
"I didn't sleep much last night. What I said to you . . . I don't hate you. You're right, she wouldn't have loved me even if you weren't in the picture, and at least this way I don't have to think of some other man dirtying her."
Tarius nodded. "Good. Then we are still allies." Tarius hugged him back then.
Tragon walked off to practice with Justin, and Derek walked into the ring. He had made the cut this time, in a time of war they lowered their standards, but his attitude wasn't much if any improved. He was from one of the rich families of the kingdom, and he really thought that his money should get him special treatment. That just didn't happen at the academy.
"So, golden boy, what happened to your leg?" the red-headed boy asked Tarius.
"He saved the king and was knighted," Darian answered from behind Derek. "So that would make Tarius Sir golden boy to you."
Derek seemed to boil inwardly at the realization that the outland Tarius now held a title.
In their practice fights, Derek tried to use Tarius's limited mobility. He even tried to strike the wounded hip. He became more and more frustrated as he realized none of his blows were going to connect.
"Do you want me to teach you, or do you just want to keep trying to hurt me?" Tarius asked. This only seemed to make Derek madder, and he tried even harder to hit Tarius. "You waste my time, boy. Give me someone over here who wants to learn."
Another of the first year students walked over, but Derek wasn't done yet. He ran at Tarius in a rage. Tarius sidestepped, and as the boy started to fall on his face Tarius hit him good on the back of his legs.
"See? I told you," Justin said to Darian as they watched the scene. "He's no good." Derek's manner had only confirmed what Justin had always said about him.
Darian noticed that Harris was getting wonderful, vicarious pleasure watching Tarius whip the boy over and over again while hardly working up a sweat. Still, Darian knew there had to be an end to it. Finally, he walked over, stepped in front of Derek, and took the practice blade from the boy's hand easily.
"You were cut the first time you were here because you seemed to have trouble getting along with others. If you do not change your attitude immediately, you will find yourself cut again. Just because you made it to the final cut doesn't mean you get to stay no matter what you do. You act out once more, and you're out of here."
"I'm sorry, Master Darian," Derek said, bowing low. He walked out of the ring, past Harris who stuck his tongue out at him daring him to make a scene.
Darian saw him out of the corner of his eye and shook his head at him. Harris looked crushed. Obviously he had decided that he had the perfect opportunity to torment his tormentor, and Darian had taken it away.
When the class was over Harris and Tarius stayed behind to continue Harris's training.
Darian watched them work from the shadows.
After about thirty minutes they put away the equipment. Harris ran off to do his evening chores, and Tarius started for the courtyard, no doubt to meet his daughter.
Darian stepped out of the shadows, almost but not quite startling Tarius.
"Harris . . . He's quite the swordsman," Darian said.
Tarius looked at him, no doubt trying to see by his features whether he was angry that he was training Harris or not. "Every person with a passion for steel should have the right to learn it. He is as good as any of the second term students and better than most of the first."
"Maybe because you have been training him all along. I'm not blind, Tarius. Didn't you think that I would notice that the lad was putting on a fighter's muscles, and that his movements have become less clumsy?" Darian asked.
"It is a shame he can not be a Swordmaster," Tarius said.
"He can't join the academy; this is true. He can never have the title, but if he continues to learn from you I have no doubt that Harris will be a Swordmaster." Darian smiled and patted Tarius on the back. "Seeing him fighting makes me wish I had thought to train him myself. That I had seen past his crippled foot and found his abilities. Were it not for you he would have gone from being a crippled boy to being a crippled man, happy to do thankless tasks for arrogant men. Now he'll want more, and you have given him the tools with which to demand more. Your ways are odd Tarius, but may the gods forgive me, I sometimes believe they are far kinder and wiser than ours."
Darian turned to walk in the direction of the main hall, and Tarius watched him go with a smile.
"I hope you mean what you say, old man," Tarius said under her breath. She grabbed two practice swords looking around to make sure the theft was not detected. Then she limped out the door and into the courtyard. Jena met her by the back gate that lead into the woods. Jena hugged her, and they kissed.
"You sure you're up to this?" Jena asked.
Tarius nodded. She took Jena's hand and led her to a clearing she and Harris had made in the woods a few weeks earlier. Tarius preferred the woods to the practice arena, and she and Harris had decided to build their own "practice arena." She had assumed she would only be fighting Harris here, but last night as Jena and Tarius sat in the courtyard watching the new recruits play at fighting with tree branches and the likes, Jena had planted another seed in her head.
"I always wished that I could fight," Jena said wistfully.
"Why don't you then?" Tarius asked.
"Women aren't allowed to fight. In fact, women aren't allowed to do most things that are fun or have any meaning," Jena said, stretching her bare feet into the grass in front of her.
"What a stupid country this is! How stupid to make women believe they can be nothing but what men wish them to be. If you want to fight, then you should fight," Tarius said with passion.
Jena laughed. "This is why I'm mad about you, Tarius. Why I had to have you. No other man understands me; they all think I'm daft. You treat me . . . Well, like an equal." She smiled a sly smile at Tarius then. "So, are you going to teach me to fight?"
"Of course," Tarius said. "You're my woman, and any woman of mine will have to be able to wield steel."
"If my father finds out he'll kill us both. You know that, don't you?"
If your father knew any of the things I'm hiding from him he'd kill me, she thought. For this he will merely scream a lot.
"Then we won't let him find out," Tarius whispered with a grin.
* * *
She put the blade in Jena's hand and put her own hands over Jena's. "Just let my hands guide yours . . . No, don't fight me; let me be in control. Let the blade become an extension of yourself." She lay her head on Jena's shoulder and temporarily lost track of what she was doing when she got an eye full of Jena's ample and wonderful cleavage. You could sure as pain never bind this woman flat. She shook the thought from her head and continued the lesson, whispering directions into Jena's ear as they went. Soon she was having Jena follow her legs in the same fashion she had taught Harris.
Finally Tarius faced her. "So . . . Are you ready?"
Jena nodded, her determination apparent by the set of her chin.
"Then lay on," Tarius said.
Jena slung her blade at Tarius weakly, obviously aiming more at the weapon than at the warrior who held it.
"Harder, Jena, harder, and at me not my sword," Tarius said.
"I'm afraid I might hit you!" Jena protested.
"Ah! You cut me to the quick! Do you think me so unskilled that a fighter on her first time out will strike me with anything but air? Do your very worst. I promise you, you will not hurt me."
Jena took Tarius at her word and came at her with conviction in her blade. She was made for the sword; Tarius could see it in her eyes. She knew something of technique as well, having watched sword fighters her entire life, and she was strong. Strong enough and fast enough to make Tarius work to keep her promise. She took direction well, seeming to know immediately what Tarius meant. Her blows came harder and faster and with more accuracy.
It was almost dark when their blades locked up. Blade to blade, chest to chest, Tarius looked down into Jena's determined face and had never felt more desire. She grabbed Jena's blade and threw both blades to the side. Then she grabbed Jena and fell backwards onto the ground, bringing Jena down on top of her. She kissed her hungrily over and over. She rolled, putting Jena under her and rubbed her body across Jena's. Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it. Jena's mouth hungrily received her kisses, long and deep. Jena's hands ran over Tarius's back. If she felt or was worried about the wrappings it didn't show in her body language. Tarius's hands fumbled at the lacings on Jena's dress, and Jena eagerly helped her. But when Jena tried to undo Tarius's pants, Tarius grabbed her hand and held it.
"I only want you Jena," Tarius whispered. "Only you."
She let her lips travel down Jena's body, and Jena forgot about anything else.
Later, they lay in each other's arms on top of Jena's dress. Jena was tired and almost asleep in Tarius's arms. "I don't understand, Tarius . . . Isn't there something that I could do for you?"
Not without blowing your whole world to pieces, Tarius thought.
"That was for me. Do you think that I didn't have any pleasure from it?"
"But, don't you want to . . ."
"No."
"Don't you want me to . . ."
"No."
"But . . ."
Tarius silenced her with a kiss. Then said in a whisper. "Don't make everything so difficult. Can't you just be happy?"
"I am happy," Jena laughed. "But I don't understand . . ."
"You know . . . I have told you. I am different from other men. If you want someone you will always understand, then you should have chosen Tragon . . ."
Now it was Jena who silenced Tarius with a kiss. "I love you, Tarius. You're right, you're different, and it's exactly because you are different that I love you. If you are truly happy with our lovemaking, then I am ecstatic."
"I am happy," Tarius said and smiled. "Very happy."
She frowned then. I'm too happy. It can't last; it never does. So I will enjoy it as long as it does and hope that I can take her with me when the time comes. Hope that her love truly is without bounds. That there comes a time when I can tell her without losing her.
* * *
Arvon and his sword brother, Brakston, had just ridden in. Arvon had taken an arrow in his leg, and he had come back to recover from his injury as was the habit of unattached Swordmasters of the Jethrik.
Brakston helped him to dismount. "The grooms will attend our horses. I'll take you to the surgeon. The sooner you're well the sooner we can get back to the front."
"Oh, and we wouldn't want to miss a minute of that! Wading through mud and guts and gore. Food that a starving rat wouldn't touch. All the lovely diarrhea from drinking dirty water. Not to mention the wonderful arrows, swords and axes people are always throwing at you." He clapped his hands together in mock anticipation. "Oh, let's do hurry and get back. I don't want to miss either the rat season or the plague." He coughed loudly and ended up bent over spitting vile looking stuff from his mouth. Brakston went to his side, helped him to a bench, and then helped him to sit. He placed his hand gently against Arvon's head.
"You are running a fever again my friend."
Arvon laughed. "Ah, that would explain why I've lost my attraction to war."
Brakston looked at him. He knew exactly how his sword brother felt. They had all fantasized about the glory of it all, but there was no glory in the death that had faced them on the front. They'd make a little headway one day only to be pushed back the next. The rains had come, and with them came disease and mosquitoes the size of small birds. Arvon's wound had seemed a simple one compared to others, but a bad infection had set into it, and he'd become sick. It soon became evident that Arvon was going to have to leave the front or die, and he couldn't go alone. Brakston couldn't really say that he was sad about having to be the one to bring Arvon home.
"You'll get some help. You'll feel better," Brakston promised. "Rest for a minute."
Arvon saw Tarius and Jena sneak in the back gate holding hands. From their rumpled appearance, it didn't take a genius to figure out what they'd been up to.
Arvon sighed deeply. "Ah, there goes the end to one of my most beautiful fantasies."
"Huh?" Brakston looked in the direction that Arvon was looking and saw the couple. He laughed. "Not hard to guess what those two have been doin'."
"My point exactly, and I was so hoping that he wanted me as badly as I wanted him," Arvon said.
Brakston laughed. "Quit, ya old puffta . . . Tarius!"
Tarius looked up quickly, first with the startled look of one who has been caught, and then grinned and ran towards them. Tarius hugged first Brakston and then Arvon.
"Oh, sure, hug me now you young cad, when I know what you've been doing with this young woman," Arvon said. He looked at Jena who stood just behind Tarius with a huge grin on her face. "So, I see you finally chased this young man till he caught you."
Jena took Tarius's arm beaming happily. "We're getting married."
Arvon held a hand over his heart. "Ah! Woman, you slay me."
Brakston nudged Tarius with an elbow. "I suppose you better be marrying her if you were doing what I think you were doing out in the woods. The old man would have your hide, you know that don't you?"
"When is the big day?" Arvon asked.
"Soon, before I ride out on my internship," Tarius said. "I graduate in less than two months, you know."
"No I didn't," Arvon said. It made him feel old. He was glad to be back at the compound, away from the war. Back among familiar things and people.
"Tarius, would you help me take Arvon to the surgery . . ."
"You're wounded then, Arvon?" Tarius asked.
"Oh yes, and the infection has given him the fever," Brakston said.
Tarius moved then to help Arvon to his feet, and it was then that Brakston noticed that the boy was limping himself.
"What happened to you, lad? Didn't do that playing with your girl in the woods, did you?" he teased.
It was Jena who slapped him hard on the shoulder. "That's enough of your mouth, Brakston," Jena said. She moved to help Tarius with Arvon. "I'll have you know that Tarius was hurt saving our good king from a barbarian."
"You saved the king?" Arvon said looking at Tarius in awe. "Then you're not just wearing spurs because you have lousy out-country manners?"
"You horse shit!" Brakston popped Tarius on the shoulder so hard he almost sent all three of them to the ground. "You've been knighted!"
Tarius smiled but said nothing.
"See what a fine teacher am I? How my students become knighted before they even graduate from the academy?" Arvon said.
"See how the fever has gone to his head? We better get him to the surgery," Brakston laughed.
They started helping him to the surgery. He wasn't the first Swordmaster to come in this week; three others had all come back from the front wounded. Two of them had died.
"It must be getting bad," Tarius said more than asked the two Swordmasters.
Both men looked at Jena.
"Jena is no faint heart, Arvon," Tarius said knowing what he was thinking.
"I am aware of that," Arvon said, but he wasn't about to fill her in on all the gory details. Not when very soon Tarius would be slung into the middle of it. Unless he was mistaken, there would be no internship for these boys. They would be shipped right to the front where their skill both with weapons and leadership were needed. "You, you know what war is, Tarius. You have lived through the horror. I really hadn't. I'd been in a couple of battles. The kind you hear about—the glorious battles where everyone dies clean, and in an afternoon the battle is over. This just goes on and on and on. I don't have to tell you, Tarius; you know what I'm talking about. I was sorely prepared. I'm still not prepared." He lowered his voice. "I don't know if I can go back."
Tarius whispered also. "Then why should you go back? Stay here and train men to fight. You have done your part. Find yourself a mate; fall in love. Live before you have to die. Who would deny you that?"
Arvon nodded then smiled at him. "I could have loved you, Tarius."
Tarius laughed. "Ah, you are full of the fever. You could never love me! I'm a filthy wild little bugger. There is no air of refinement about me. You, my friend, need a gentle man."
Jena left to tell her father that Arvon and Brakston were there, and that Arvon was wounded. Tarius stayed with Arvon while Brakston went to find the surgeon who had apparently gone home for dinner.
"So tell me how you saved the king, Sir Tarius," Arvon said. He lay back on the soft bed. "Damn! That feels good, now go on tell me." Tarius told him the story, and Arvon laughed. "You are indeed worthy of the title, Sir."
"The title annoys me," Tarius said.
"And Jena?" Arvon asked with a smile. "How did you win her favor?"
"Apparently by trying over and over again to get rid of her," Tarius said in a far away tone.
Arvon laughed again then coughed. "I will have to remember that one."
Tarius grew tired of leaving her friend there to suffer with no help. It wasn't as if she knew nothing of caring for wounds. She got up and started taking Arvon's pants off.
"Tarius! And you an almost married man, too," Arvon teased.
"Would you stop it." Tarius laughed. The pants came off, and she was no longer laughing. The dressings were filthy and stunk like death.
She carefully removed the filthy dressing. The arrow had gone through close to the bone. It had been removed properly, but improper care and improper cleaning had left the wound to become a mass of oozing green and yellow puss with red leech lines running in every direction. She didn't say anything. She just went to the sink and drew a bucket of water, grabbed some soap and a rag and started cleaning the wound. Arvon didn't complain that it hurt him, and Tarius knew this was a bad sign.
"It's bad isn't it?" Arvon asked.
"Well, it isn't pretty," Tarius said managing a smile. "Don't they cauterize wounds on the front?"
"There's no building a fire out there. There's nothing but rain day in and day out. Besides there's never time. There aren't enough medics, and very damn little in the way of medical supplies," Arvon said. He sighed and added. "I don't even know why we're fighting."
"That's because you haven't seen what the Amalites do to a land. No one who doesn't conform to their perverted rules is allowed to live. People like you and me are killed first because we are immoral, and don't conform to their idea of 'normal.' They are like locusts; they creep in at your borders eating at your land, and before you know it there is nothing left of you. They send their filthy missionaries ahead first. People ignore them because they seem harmless. The missionaries look for the lost ones in a community—the ones that don't have families or homes. They promise them a better life, and so slowly they take over from the inside. They find your weaknesses and your strengths and report their findings to their leaders. When they finally strike, their people are on both sides of the line, and you don't know who the enemy is. They are evil to the very core of their being . Their primary belief is that anyone who doesn't believe as they do is evil, and therefore they are under no moral obligation to treat us any better than bugs. Their history is littered with slaughter and death. That is why we fight; we have to kill them. We have to kill them before they can kill us, because given half a chance they will kill us all. Have no doubt of that."
"They should have you speak to the troops, Tarius, the men need to know what they are fighting against and for," Arvon said.
Tarius just nodded silently.
Tarius had been taught how to bind and tend wounds as a child in Kartik. She knew that the Jethrik ways were different than Kartik and certainly different from the way the Katabull did things, but there was still no sign of the surgeon, and she got the impression that Arvon was running out of time. She found a piece of wire and some alcohol. Then she secured a piece of cloth to the wire. First making sure she had left no sharp edges hanging out, she dipped the cloth into the alcohol. If it ran into the wound easily, that would mean that it was rotting instead of healing.
"This is going to hurt a lot," Tarius said.
"Thanks for telling me," Arvon said with a forced laugh.
Tarius poked the swab into the wound gently. Yellow and green puss immediately erupted from it, and instead of screaming in pain, Arvon let out a sigh of relief. The smell was awful, and Tarius almost threw up. She ran the swab through the wound several times. It was no wonder Arvon was running a fever.
He was all over filthy, so Tarius undressed him and started to give him a sponge bath as much to clean him off as to reduce his fever.
"Ah! My dream come true," Arvon coed.
"Shut up, ya blaggard, or I'll leave ya set in your own filth," Tarius said but not without a smile.
His fever was bad, and he shook with the cold. As soon as he was clean, Tarius dressed his wound and pulled one of the surgery's tunics on him. She covered him with blankets and wondered where the hell the surgeon was.
"Crawl in with me and keep me warm," Arvon said through chattering teeth.
Tarius laughed as she cleaned up the mess she'd made. "You really are incorrigible."
"Do you really only like women?" Arvon asked.
"Yes, sorry," Tarius said with a smile. "If I liked men, I'm sure I'd go for you in a heartbeat. However, I'm afraid you would be gravely disappointed in me," Tarius said.
Brakston walked in then. "Where's the surgeon? He said he'd meet me here."
Tarius shrugged. "I cleaned it up and dressed it the way I was taught. I'm sure the surgeon will want to do it all over again when he gets here."
"It feels better all ready," Arvon said. He was starting to get tired.
"He hasn't kept any food down in days. Water either for that matter," Brakston said.
Tarius nodded. "I'll go get him broth then." Tarius left.
Brakston watched him go. "He is a puzzlement that one. Looks like a kid, yet he knows so much more about everything than I do."
"His life has been a hard one," Arvon said.
The surgeon swept into the room then, and ran to Arvon's side. "I'm sorry it took me so long. It's the leg, isn't it?"
Arvon nodded. "It's all right. Tarius has seen to it."
The surgeon looked at the dressing. It was different than he would have done it, but it worked the same way. "Well, he seems to have dressed it properly. Let's just see the leg." He peeled the dressings back, and a frown darkened his face. "The infection has spread; the leg will have to come off."
"You'll not take my leg," Arvon said.
"I'll give you something to kill the pain." He walked over and started mixing powders.
"Isn't there some other way?" Brakston asked.
"I'm afraid not," the surgeon said.
Arvon looked at his partner with panicked eyes. "Don't let them take my leg. I'd rather be dead."
"He will be if we don't take the leg," the surgeon promised. He got out a huge knife and a saw.
"No, no!" Arvon cried. "Please don't do this! Brakston, don't let them do this."
"I want you to live . . ."
"Without the leg he won't live," Tarius had stepped into the room. She looked at the surgeon. "The leg will heal. It was filthy; I cleaned it. If we keep the wound clean and dry, there is a chance that it will heal."
"Sir Tarius, would you challenge my skill as a surgeon? I tell you this man will die unless we remove his leg," the surgeon said.
"And he will die if you do remove his leg," Tarius said. She looked not at the surgeon but at Brakston.
"Listen to me. I have seen what happens with wounds like this, and I have seen what happens when they take a man's arm or his leg. His chances are better with the leg than they are without it." Tarius moved to stand between the surgeon and Arvon.
"Sir Tarius," the surgeon started in a patronizing tone. "I know you have your friend's best interest at heart, but if he doesn't have this surgery soon . . . "
Arvon took hold of Tarius's pants leg, and Tarius looked down at him. "Tarius, a thousand blessings on your head, and on that of your fine lady. My gratitude and loyalty till the day of my death if you save my leg from this butcher."
The surgeon took a step forward with his knives and his saw, and Tarius drew steel.
"The only thing that will be cut off this night is your head if you come one step closer to my friend," Tarius said with venom. "He will live, and he will have both legs."
Brakston drew his blade. "Tarius, good brother, hear me. The surgeon knows what's best in this matter."
Tarius saw the servant in the back take off running, no doubt to go and get Darian. She didn't care. Arvon was her friend, her mentor, and he had made a pledge to her like no person ever had.
Darian and Jena ran in one door as Justin ran in the other.
Darian reviewed the situation keenly. "What's all this then?"
"Arvon needs surgery, and Tarius won't let the surgeon touch him," Brakston explained. He didn't know what to do. Who was wrong? Who was right? The doctor said Arvon would die without surgery. Arvon didn't want the surgery. Brakston didn't want Arvon to die. Tarius said he was as likely to die with the surgery as without it. Brakston was tired, hungry and confused. He knew only one thing for a certainty he did not want to fight Tarius. For one thing, Tarius was his friend, and for another he knew he could not beat Tarius in a sword fight.
"I don't want my leg cut off," Arvon said.
"As long as he doesn't want his leg cut off, I'm not going to allow anyone to do it," Tarius said.
"Jena," Darian said under his breath, as if just realizing she had followed him. "Go back to the house. This is a matter between men."
Jena shrugged and didn't move a muscle. She even had the bad manners to speak. "It's Arvon's leg; it should be his decision," she said.
"Daughter, this is a matter between men," Darian said hotly.
"But she's right," Arvon said. "It is my leg."
"He's filled with fever from the infection. His judgment is skewed! You can't allow him to make this kind of decision now. It must be done for him," the surgeon said.
"Tarius, step aside. The lad will die without the surgery," Justin said in a calm voice.
Tarius stood silent, sword still drawn and ready. It was obvious that he didn't mean to back down.
Darian looked around, carefully trying to weigh out the situation. Arvon was a fighter—a man who didn't want to even consider living without both legs. The surgeon was a proud man who didn't want his decision challenged by the likes of this out-country barbarian. Brakston was war, road- and worry-exhausted, and didn't really know what was right.
That left Tarius. Tarius had made up his mind. They'd have to kill him to go against his will, and Darian doubted that he, Justin and Brakston together could take him. In fact, he was sure that they couldn't.
Besides, as Darian remembered it, Tarius was right. Most men who had amputations died anyway from the shock.
Justin looked at him, obviously anxious for him to make a decision.
"Arvon does not want his leg removed. We all know that none of us can beat Tarius in a fight, and with Tarius as his champion I believe that Arvon's decision will have to stand," Darian said. "Surgeon, put your tools away."
Brakston's steel went back into its sheath, and Tarius's was sheathed at once.
"Fine, but I can tell you I'll have nothing to do with this," the surgeon said. He glared at the out-country wild man. "You think yourself a better surgeon than I. Fine! Let his death be on your head." He stormed out.
Darian motioned with his head for Justin and Brakston to leave, and they did so without question.
Tarius redressed Arvon's wound and covered him. Then he walked over and got the mug of broth he had brought for Arvon. It was still warm, so he helped him to sit up and handed him the mug, which he emptied gratefully. When he had finished it Tarius helped him to lie down. When Tarius set the mug down, Darian motioned for Tarius to join him and Jena.
Jena and Tarius both squirmed, not quite sure which offense they were about to be scolded for. Both were hoping against hope that Darian didn't know about their little romp in the woods. If he knew about either the fighting or the sex, they'd both be in for a beating.
"Can't you just once act like a lady and keep to your place?" Darian said in an angry whisper to Jena.
Jena and Tarius looked at each other and sighed a heavy sigh of relief knowing that they hadn't been caught. Jena even managed a sly smile, and Tarius, red faced, looked quickly away.
"I'm sorry, Father," Jena said.
"Are you really, or are you just telling me what you think I want to hear?" he asked suspiciously.
"Why the former of course, Father," she said sarcastically.
"See that's what I'm talking about, Jena. You're a woman, as such your job is to do as you're told," Darian said.
"She has her own thoughts and ideas," Tarius said hotly. "She's a woman, not a toad. Her thoughts and feelings are as valid as any man's, maybe more so."
Darian literally tugged at his hair. "Ah, Tarius! Can't you see what you are doing? She is bad enough already, but you encourage her to be even worse! It's as if you prefer her because she is head-strong and messy."
Tarius smiled unashamed, "I do."
"You are mad! You are both quite mad and iritating! You expect the whole world to change for you!" Darian ranted.
Oh, you have no idea how true your words are. If only the world would change for us, then I could be who I am, and Jena could be who she is, Tarius thought.
"Look at you, Jena! No shoes, and your hair looks as if you've been rolling around in the woods!"
Again Jena and Tarius looked at each other with hidden meaning.
"And you Tarius, you can not continue to throw yourself into the middle of things like this. If you are wrong, then Arvon's blood is on your hands."
"No, his blood will be on the hands of an Amalite archer, and at least I will know he died with a full spirit," Tarius said. "I will stay with him till he is well."
She looked at Jena then. "You'll see, he'll live, and he'll have both legs."
"I only hope you're right, or we'll all have to hear about it forever," Darian said. "Come along, Jena."
Jena moved to embrace Tarius, and they kissed.
"Oh, would you just come on!" Darian smiled in spite of himself. "You two bring constant shame upon my head!"
* * *
The next three days were rough. Tarius didn't get much sleep. Arvon shit himself at least a dozen times, and Tarius had to clean him. Each time a humiliated Arvon apologized and Tarius told him to forget it. Tarius forced liquids down Arvon and wiped his brow with cool water. When the fever got too high, Tarius swabbed Arvon's entire body to bring his temperature down. Just before dawn on the third day, the fever finally broke. Arvon had been talking out of his head for most of the night, but as the first lights of dawn slid in the surgery's upper window, Arvon spoke clearly and crisply, startling Tarius out of a near sleep. Tarius rose from the chair she'd been sleeping in and went to Arvon's side.
He was looking at the light that streamed in the window. "My mother was a creature of infinite wisdom and beauty. I often wondered what she saw in my father, who was but a plain and simple farmer." He turned to look at Tarius. "She used to say that in the mists of a fever you saw crazy things, but you also sometimes saw things the way they truly were. Now this is a funny thing you see, because I always believed that I got all of my father's traits and none of my mother's. Yet last night I was sure I saw my own dead mother."
"That's not too odd. I often see my parents in my dreams," Tarius said.
"Ah! But this was odd because I wasn't asleep at the time, and I was looking at you," Arvon said thoughtfully.
Tarius laughed. "Now that is rich. You mistook me for your mother?"
Arvon nodded, troubled now, and not sure of the thought he had been so sure of only moments before. He went on with quiet deliberation. "Yes. I thought you were my mother because, for a moment, you looked just like her."
Tarius left Arvon's side and went to get the glass of water she had drawn earlier.
"See, I haven't told anyone this, but my mother was Kartik," Arvon said.
"Ah! I thought I noticed a bit of the island in your features," Tarius said. "See, I knew we were brothers in more ways than one."
"Well, yes, that's just the thing. Because, you see, my mother said she was Kartik, but in reality she was of a much older people." Arvon looked at Tarius hard then, although Tarius didn't notice, being too occupied with trying to get the overfull glass of water to Arvon. It was too much trouble, so Tarius stopped to take a sip. "You see, Tarius, my mother was the Katabull."
The glass fell away from Tarius's mouth and crashed on the floor, sending pottery shards everywhere. Tarius looked at Arvon in stunned silence.
"Well that explains why the arrow did so much damage," Tarius said.
"So. Was my vision right, Tarius? Are you, the greatest swordsman of the Jethrik, the Katabull?"
Tarius sat on the edge of Arvon's bed carefully. "Yes, I am the Katabull."
"And are you a man or a woman?"
"Did you mean the oath you swore to me?"
"Yes, I did," Arvon said.
"Then yes, I am a woman," Tarius said cautiously.
"Does Jena know?" Arvon asked, lowering his voice still more.
Tarius's features took on a tortured look as she answered. "No. She's young and inexperienced; she knows nothing of the Kartik people, and I make up things about our culture and my religion to cover myself and my methods."
"Do you love her?" Arvon asked.
"With all my heart and with all my soul."
"How long do you think you can fool her, Tarius? How long can you fool everyone including yourself? It's a dangerous game, my sister."
"I know that. But I've made love to her, and she was none the wiser. "
"And what about you? How long are you going to be happy to never have her touch you?" Arvon asked quietly.
"I can't deny my longing for her touch, but I would do anything, absolutely anything, no matter what the sacrifice, to be with her," Tarius said.
"What happens when she wants more than you can give her, Tarius?" Arvon asked gently. "She thinks you're a man."
"I am a man in every way that matters," Tarius said. "I look like a man. I fight like a man. I can satisfy her. What else does she need?"
"It my friend. Eventually she's going to want it, and you ain't got it."
"I'll worry about it when the time comes," Tarius said. "I have to live for today. None of us may have tomorrow. I know it's wrong to deceive her. I tried to run her off—you know that I did. But she wouldn't go. Look at it this way. Any other man here would make her miserable, tie her up and gag her. Only with me can she be the person that she truly is."
"I'm not judging you, my dear friend. I only know what happens when one tries to live in a web of lies. Eventually one strand comes down, and then the whole weaving falls in on itself. Only know this; if there should come a day when that should happen to you, I will be there for you in any way that I can be."