"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."
The word from the front wasn't good. Jena frowned and stared out at the courtyard from where she sat on a cut stone bench. She and Tarius had sat here for hours under this big tree, talking of everything and nothing, holding hands and just basically enjoying each other's company. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he had held her in his arms and spoken soft words of love to her. She missed him in a way she had never dreamed it was possible to miss someone. Her body literally ached to hold him, to kiss him, to feel his lips on hers, to feel his hands on her bare skin . . .
She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. The day was lovely, sunny and bright. The air was fresh, and nothing here seemed to realize what was going on just on the other side of the kingdom. It was almost noon, and by now Tarius would doubtless be on the battlefield. Maybe hurt, maybe even . . . She shook her head; she wouldn't think it. Tarius would come home. The war would be over soon, and Tarius would come home. They would be together again, and all would be right with the world.
Suddenly someone was sitting beside her. She didn't have to look up to know who. Tragon limped around the courtyard and grounds, his leg seeming to be better one day and worse the next. She couldn't find a moment's peace from him anywhere save in the house. She knew what he was up to. He wanted her. He didn't care that she belonged to his friend and partner. He wanted her and hoped to win her while Tarius was away and she was vulnerable in her loneliness. What he didn't know was that every time he spoke to her she cared less for him. He was like a vulture waiting for hope to die in her so that he could rush in and devour her.
"It's a beautiful day," Tragon said. "As they say, a good day to die."
Jena glared at him through squinted eyes and hissed. "Is that supposed to be funny?"
"I was simply saying . . ."
"What! What were you saying? You know the war rages at the front. You know my own husband stands in the battle even as we speak. Why would you say such an awful thing?" Jena got to her feet, and she glared down at him waiting for his answer.
"It's just a saying, Jena. I'm sorry . . . I didn't think," Tragon said.
"And I think you did. I think you said it because you know that while you limp around here pretending to be hurt, my love fights for you both." She turned and started to walk away.
* * *
Tragon was suddenly angrier than he had ever been in his life. He didn't know why he was so mad. Maybe it was because in that moment he realized she'd never have anything more than contempt for him. Maybe it was just that she knew he was faking the severity of his injury so that he could stay here out of harm's way. Most likely he was so angry because he knew he shouldn't be going after Jena, not when he was only alive because Tarius had saved him.
He jumped from the bench and grabbed Jena's arm in one movement. "Foolish girl! You wait for Tarius," Tragon hissed with venom. "You delude yourself that he cares for you. All he cares about is his sword and cutting people in two with it. Do you know that they call him Tarius the Black? Not because of the armor he wears, but because that is the color of his soul. They call him the Kartik Bastard not because he was born out of wedlock but because he's such a hideous killer that no family would want to claim him. I am a man with a gentle soul, Jena. I am capable of love. I love you, Jena; I always have. Tarius doesn't love you. Tarius can't love you because his soul is consumed with hate. Answer me this . . . Has he ever made love to you?"
"Many times," Jena answered nervously.
Tragon laughed bitterly. "Have you, Jena, ever been allowed to so much as touch him?"
"What business is it of yours?" Jena hissed back and tried to pull out of his grasp.
Tragon held on tight. "He hasn't, has he? And do you know why, Jena? Do you know why?" Tragon screamed in her face.
"Let me go!" Jena demanded.
"Because he can't. Because Tarius is not a
man
at all!"
Jena's eyes burned into him like two blue coals of fire, and he started to tell her just exactly what she had married. Who she had let caress and touch her whole body, but then in her blue eyes he suddenly saw the cold black eyes of the Katabull, and terror gripped his heart. His voice calmed then, and his hold on her arm loosened. "Can't you see, Jena? Tarius is a monster; he lives only to kill. He could never love you the way that I do. Your life with him will always be what it is right now. Waiting for him to come home from battle; waiting to see if he is alive or dead."
Jena jerked her arm free of his hand. She glared at him. "I would rather wait for a lifetime for a brave man to return home from a battle, than live with a cowardly man with too little honor to fight." She walked away from him, and Tragon watched her go.
He
was
a coward, and the thing he feared most was Tarius. Yet he couldn't stay away from Jena, which was possibly the one thing Tarius would actually kill him for.
* * *
By midday their casualties were high, and they were losing ground fast. No matter how many Amalites they killed, there seemed to be just as many as before. It was as if they came from thin air. There were just too many of them. The men were losing hope, and their spirits were low. The king moved to the front of the ranks hoping to give his army courage, but they just had nothing left to give.
Tarius and Harris were running the right flank and barely holding their ground. Any hopes for advancement were gone. If they could only hold their ground till the reinforcements from the villages got there, they might be all right.
Tarius had a spear and from horseback was picking off men in the opposing shield wall. But more just moved in to take their place. The bodies were stacking up two and three deep in places. Their men, her men, under hoof and under foot. To fall to stumble in this battle was as deadly as taking a blow from sword, pike, arrow or spear.
Suddenly from the corner of her eye she saw an Amalite bowman on horse back taking careful aim. She looked quickly and saw his target. She broke rank and spurred her horse so that he jumped over the shield wall, trampling Amalites on the other side as he did so. Tarius spurred the horse on at full gallop. Without slowing the horse, she jumped into the saddle, standing on her feet, then she leapt into the air and grabbed the arrow as it raced towards its intended victim. She landed on the ground in front of the king's horse on her feet on their side of the shield wall and her horse followed. Immediately, she spun around to face the opposing army, held the arrow high in her left hand, grabbed her sword with her right and drew it. Then she let out a scream that was heard all over the battlefield. There was a moment of silence as people on all sides became aware of what she had done. Tarius screamed again, and then ran, sword in hand and screaming, straight into the fray. She ran over her own shield wall and then the opposing army's shield wall. Running up a shield, she decapitated the man holding it and started hacking and slashing everything in sight. The Jethrik army behind her all went as berserk as she had, and the tide of the battle changed even as the reinforcements arrived, racing down the hill to join them.
They soon had the Amalites on the run, and this time not one archer ceased fire. This time not one man stopped in his pursuit of the Amalites until they had crossed over the river and into their camp. On Tarius's instructions they canvassed the killing field, killing the Amalite wounded and picking them clean of weapons and armor. They hauled their own wounded back to camp and then they stacked all the dead bodies of the Amalites up as a barrier. In places it was three and four high. Their own dead they carried back to the tree line. They couldn't deal with them now, but they could keep the Amalites from defiling their dead the way that they were defiling the dead Amalites. It was demoralizing to see your dead abused by the enemy. Tarius knew this, and so she made them into a wall and used their bodies as a shield.
Twice the Amalites tried to stop them, and twice they drove them back into their camp.
Yesterday's bodies were already starting to stink. In the heat and the wet it was no wonder they were decaying quickly. At least in the shade of the trees it would take their dead a little longer to rot. Maybe they'd have a chance to bury them before they got too ripe.
Tarius was giving orders, setting up sentries and seeing to the wounded and the feeding of the men. All the things that were her duty. Hellibolt walked up to her and pulled her a little to the side.
"That was it," Hellibolt said shaking his head sadly. "I couldn't be sure what it would be, but now I know that was it."
"That was what?" Tarius asked curtly, not in the mood to deal with Hellibolt or his strangeness at that moment.