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.