| |
Ethne didn’t know what was happening to her, but after making love to Lysa and watching the small woman shiver and climax in her arms, she had decided that she could not let Lysa go, could never leave her side, and that they must be wed one way or the other.
The next morning, the storm finally lifted, and as they walked from the cave, heading always south toward Godga and the river, Ethne walked at the front of the procession with Liadan while Lysa and Ava walked some feet behind them, whispering and giggling excitedly. Ethne assumed they were giggling about Ava’s pregnancy or perhaps her pending marriage to Liadan. Liadan and Ava had been talking about marriage for days – not with each other but to their respective best friends – and it was driving Ethne to distraction with wild thoughts. Ethne wanted to make Lysa hers and keep others from stealing her heart. Somehow, her closest friends – Liadan and Rowan – had both managed to do so with their women, and it was driving Ethne mad trying to figure it out.
“Does Ava know she’s supposed to propose to you? That it’s your people’s custom?” Ethne asked Liadan, as behind them another bought of giggles erupted.
“I haven’t told her,” Liadan said with a shrug. “What’s important right now is reaching Godga before Luane finds us again.”
“Entering the Valley of Queens was clever, I’ll admit,” said Ethne thoughtfully. “Luane wouldn’t know about the escape tunnel in Queen Saraid’s tomb . . . Or rather, the tunnel that was built to bring in a damned dragon corpse. Ha.”
“Luane will wander for a time, trying to pick up our trail, though it will have stopped on the edge of the valley, which contains thousands of tombs. Make no mistake, though, Ethne: she will find us again.”
“Not before we reach Godga,” said Ethne with determination. “And we shall be ready. It’s not like the old hag is far away. Hell, we’d have already been to the river if not for the horses abandoning us.”
“True enough,” agreed Liadan.
Ethne was right of course: a line of trees had already appeared in the distance, and the gleam of the ice-plated river shone in the sunlight. Before long, they would have reached Godga’s little cabin, where she lived beside the great stone Bridge of Breandan. Ethne had a foreboding feeling about all of it, but she knew protesting was pointless, so determined were the others in their quest, and so she changed the subject back to their more present worries.
Ethne glanced sideways at Liadan, who was glowering in silent contemplation. “Why do you fear Luane so greatly?” she asked with sudden exasperation. “I mean, I know she is ‘the Dragon,’ but you are one of the fiercest warriors I ever did see! And I grew up in Adwean, where the great tourneys are held, and all the greatest warriors come year after year to compete. I have seen true skill, and you have it.”
Liadan smiled sadly. “Perhaps. But my skills have never before been tested, Ethne! Our training was just that – training. It was not the real world, where warriors die on the end of blades. We did only graduate this past fall, and I have only tested my strength against meager bandits and cutthroats.”
“That is not true,” said Ethne at once. “We have slain giants, orcs, and goblins—”
“While Saoirse, our instructor, aided us and kept us from real harm,” Liadan finished for her.
“Fine!” said Ethne, frustrated. “I’ll give you that. But you shall not face Luane alone, Liadan! I shall aid you. And I suppose Lysa shall as well. She hath insisted on it, in fact.” Ethne spoke the last words with great bitterness.
Liadan’s lips twitched, threatening to blossom into a smile. She was holding back for Ethne’s sake, Ethne could tell: Ethne hated the idea of Lysa fighting and it was a sensitive subject for her.
“For weeks we have traveled with Lysa and still you hath not tamed her?” Liadan said, apparently unable to resist teasing after all.
Ethne sighed. “More like she hath tamed me. I’m starting to find it difficult to even look at other women – me! And I used to bed two women a night!”
Liadan chuckled.
“She is on my mind night and day, she haunts my thoughts, she plagues my dreams,” went on Ethne, “and if they were not such sweet dreams, filled with kisses and laughter, I should despise her. But she is just as sweet when I am awake, with her doting brown eyes and smirking lips. And how she loves to seduce me, always letting her tunic drape about her cleavage. I shall go mad before long.”
“By the gods, has she got you around her little finger. Not that I have room to talk,” said Liadan. “Ava doth command me without a second thought, and I do enjoy kneeling ever before her.”
Ethne laughed. “Of course, you do. Lysa hath told me of your ‘kneeling.’”
Liadan laughed as well.
“Perhaps if I could . . . capture her somehow. Tell me how it is done, Liadan,” Ethne implored. “You and Rowan both somehow managed to bind Ava and Saoirse to you. How? What words did you speak to them?”
“Perhaps you’re just terrible in bed,” said Liadan with a shrug.
Ethne scowled impatiently. “Do not jest!”
“Why are you so determined to wed Lysa?” Liadan asked tiredly. “She already loves thee. Isn’t that enough?”
“No, it’s not enough,” Ethne said at once. “I don’t want her to give her love to another. I want her to be mine, always, my companion and my love. She may lay with as many women as she doth please. It is her heart I fear losing.”
Liadan sighed. “Ethne . . . if Lysa falls in love with another, a wedding band on her finger will not stay her heart.”
Ethne gazed unhappily at the ground as they walked. “I know . . . but if she doth decide to leave me for another, at least I shall legally own half of what she doth own!”
Liadan laughed.
“That, to me, is worth the trouble of a wedding band,” went on Ethne. “She will not be able to abandon me so easily.”
Liadan chuckled again, her deep voice rising louder. “All right, all right,” she said. “I shall give you my advice, though you are a bard and could have thought of such romantic gestures yourself.”
“I never completed my bard training, you know that,” returned Ethne, “and bard training does not include instructions on wooing fair maidens. . . not on purpose, anyway. Do tell me. I would take notes if only I had quill and ink.”
Liadan shook her head, amused. “Well, Lysa doth like jewelry. Didn’t you notice? When next we are in town, have something custom made for her, something that will match her eyes. Maidens do love such gestures.”
“Really? Have you done the same for Ava?”
“Aye. When we were still at Caradin, I used to bring her winter flowers every morning from the courtyard. Just one flower, though. I didn’t want anyone to notice what I was doing. Many thought the flower was for myself, as I did pin it to my armor.”
Ethne laughed. “Clever.”
It was then that Ava and Lysa jogged up, walking beside Ethne and Liadan. Ava slid her arm in Liadan’s, and Lysa did likewise with Ethne. Ethne thought the women looked pink-cheeked and mischievous. They were flushed with happiness and excitement. It made her feel wary. The last time they had looked that way, they had concocted yet another way to torment Ethne sexually: they had bathed in front of Ethne back in their room at the tavern while Liadan slept, but both had refused to lay with Ethne afterwards, leaving in her a throbbing hell of quiet passion. The vixens.
“What are the two of you up to?” said Ethne, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Never you mind,” said Lysa, looking quite pleased with herself. Her eyes went to the bridge and the river, at both landmarks taking shape in the distance, and she became thoughtful. “I suppose we’re almost there. Perhaps Luane will attack while we wait there, and then we can put this madness to an end.”
“Why are you so certain that Luane shall find us at Godga’s cabin?” Liadan demanded wearily. “It would make a clever trap if there were certainty to it.”
“But there is certainty,” said Lysa at once. “Think about it. Why would Luane pursue you to Hastow? She doesn’t know about your sister there! She would assume you would head to the bridge, head home, and pursue us here. Unless she’s a complete muttonhead.”
“Is Luane a muttonhead?” Ava wondered. “That could work to our advantage.”
Lysa snorted. “She’s a muttonhead if I ever saw. She’ll fall into this trap. Her arrogance will do her in.”
“Don’t be so quick to assume, fair Lysa,” said Ethne with a sigh. “Big doesn’t always equate stupid, and dragons were not always the dumb beasts they are now. They were clever once. Queen Saraid’s dragon, for instance, was called Ethicar. It could talk, even aided with battle planning and strategy.”
“That’s right, you’re a bard,” said Ava, remembering, and Ethne thought she sounded pleased. “You would know the tales of my house. I’d wager you learned all of the songs of House Damaris.”
“Only some of them, your highness,” Ethne answered. “As you’ll recall, I did not complete my training. I am a knight first and foremost, even if my tongue doth carry sweet melodies. Sweet Lysa, I have played you like a flute, have I not? And my, did you sing.” She glanced sideways at Lysa and was very pleased with herself when Lysa blushed.
“Stop tormenting fair Lysa,” chuckled Liadan. “You’ll make her wet her pants.”
“Easy enough way to get her out of them,” returned Ethne, enjoying it when Lysa blushed brighter. “It’s a shame the river’s frozen. We could have bathed. I do hate walking about covered in stale sweat and soot. Soot from magick fire is always terrible.”
“But you are not so filthy that Lysa would not have you,” said Liadan, amused. “I heard the two of you this morning.”
Lysa was red enough to rival a tomato now. “You d-did?”
Ava giggled. “Stop, the pair of you! You’ll give dear Lysa a heart attack! Pay them no mind, Lysa.”
“I don’t know why she should be embarrassed,” said Ethne. “She hath lain with all three of us.”
Liadan chuckled again. “She is not embarrassed. She is aroused.”
Lysa didn’t answer: Liadan was right.
Liadan nodded at the great stone bridge as it took shape ahead. “Why is it called the Breandan Bridge, then?”
“For my ancestor,” said Ava before Ethne could answer, and the others looked around at her, surprised yet again that she knew any history.
“Breandan was one of the first queens of Isline, the seven realms,” went on Ava. “She was a wild woman who hailed from Wildoras. She fell in love with one of the fairest women in Illa and married her. Afterwards, she lived in Illa the rest of her life. The people there loved her, and she became the first queen of the land. She built Caradin Castle for her wife—they named it after their daughter—and she built the bridge to open a trade route between Wildoras and Illa, uniting the two realms.”
“During that time,” Ethne added, “Wildoras was a thriving land, with great stone buildings that rose to the heavens, paved streets, and bursting forests and fields. It was the richest country in the land—”
“And now my people sleep in the mud and hunt the boar like cave dwellers,” said Liadan quietly, and Ethne could tell she regretted asking about the bridge.
“So why is everyone unable to cross the bridge now?” Lysa wondered.
“Well, with the fall of Wildoras, people began to hate and fear the magi,” said Ava. “You must remember, the curse was placed on them because they abused their power. Angry mobs would go into Wildoras and burn their villages to the ground, even if it meant they were massacred by angry Wildorans. Eventually, the wild women put up a barrier to keep people out and themselves in.”
“And Godga somehow became the guardian of the bridge? Is she even a Wildoran?” Lysa prompted.
“Who the hell knows what Godga is?” said Ethne. “One reason why we shouldn’t be heading south.”
“You keep saying that,” said Lysa irritably, “but where else would we go?”
“To Hastow,” said Ethne at once. “Saoirse would slay the Dragon for us—”
“And die just days before her wedding day in the process,” said Liadan darkly. “We are going to Godga, Ethne. Let that be an end to it.”
Ethne took a great, shuddering breath but held her tongue. She knew Liadan was frightened of endangering the people of Hastow, but she herself was more of a pragmatist. She was willing to do whatever it took to survive, the casualties be damned. Her greatest fear was watching Lysa die and being helpless to stop it.
A copse of trees blocked their way forward, and it was here that they were suddenly ambushed – not by the Dragon of Almara but by orcs! The green warriors were tall, muscular women, with tusks poking from fat bottom lips, black eyes, and wild black hair. They wore ragged furs and carried heavy two-handed weapons: crude and chipped battle-axes, clubs, and great swords. There were only three of them, but being seven feet tall and as supernaturally strong as any Wildoran, they might as well have been ten.
Liadan reacted immediately, throwing out her hand and sending a ball of golden fire into the face of the nearest orc, who growled angrily and toppled over on her back in the snow, dropping her battle-axe and flailing as she clutched her burning face. In only a few seconds, she was dead.
Seeing their comrade down, the remaining two orcs snorted furiously and charged. One ran at Ava, battle-axe lifted, tusks drippling with strings of drool. Ava – stricken with fear – stood paralyzed as the great battle-axe swung down at her face. The blade halted just inches from her forehead, parried by Liadan’s flaming blade. Liadan kicked the orc back, her expression cold, and as the two of them fell into a fierce struggle, the second orc was locked in battle with Ethne, who – lacking any super strength such as Liadan and the orcs possessed – was not doing as well.
“You leave her alone!” yelled Lysa, ripping her sword from its sheath, but compared to the great two-handed sword the orc was wielding, Lysa might as well have been brandishing a butterknife. The orc actually stopped in her tracks and guffawed with laughter, her deep voice echoing through the trees. While the green woman was distracted, Ethne lunged in an attempt to stab, but the orc’s reflexes were swift: she brought her great sword around in a mighty arc, parrying off the blow and slicing Ethne through her vambrace. Ethne grunted and staggered back in a splash of blood, dropping her blade and sitting hard in the snow.
“Ethne!” Lysa screamed, horrified. Her face twisting, she turned on orc and lunged into battle with her.
Panting and clutching her wounded arm, Ethne watched through strings of hair, watched in amazement as little Lysa – fast and fierce – dodged, parried, and sliced at the giant roaring orc who towered over her. She was so quick and small, the big, slow orc simply couldn’t keep up, and it wasn’t long before the snorting green woman had fallen to one knee, completely baffled as she bled from the many vicious cuts Lysa had given her.
Eyes blazing, Lysa pirouetted and took off the orc’s head. The head (its expression comically shocked) went flying through the cold air and landed in the snow, where it bounced away, trailing blood. The big, headless, green body collapsed over in a toss of snow, the neck squirting blood. Lysa stood over her defeated enemy for a moment, panting and sweating from her efforts, and Ethne looked up at her in her tight leather armor, her brown hair wild, thinking Lysa was so beautiful and strong – more beautiful and strong than Ethne had ever realized. All that fierceness in that little body, and Ethne had reduced her to a “peasant” who cleaned chamber pots.
Eventually, Lysa turned to Ethne, and her frightened brown eyes were full of tears as she said hoarsely, “Are you all right? I thought she would kill you for certain!”
Ethne laughed weakly. “As ever, your confidence in me is staggering, my lady.”
Lysa rolled her eyes, all the concern and fear vanishing with her irritation. She wiped her red blade clean on the snow, sheathed it again, and helped Ethne to her feet.
Ethne glanced around and saw Liadan hugging Ava tight and stroking her golden hair. Ava’s face had nearly been cleaved in two and she was sobbing and shaken by what had nearly happened. Liadan was shushing Ava and soothing her . . . but she kept glancing at Lysa, and Ethne knew she was impressed by the little handmaiden, perhaps even as aroused as Ethne herself was. In that moment, Ethne decided they would most definitely have to make a go at Lysa, the two of them.
Lysa didn’t notice anyone’s lusting, though. She was focused on Ethne’s injury. Her eyes danced unhappily over Ethne’s bloody arm, and the concern had returned.
Ethne could hear her own heart thundering in her ears. She was going to do something impulsive, she knew it. She had never wanted Lysa more than she did in that moment. Thoughts of yanking her pants down and tasting her were overwhelming.
“You’re hurt!” Lysa said wretchedly. “You’re hurt because I insisted we come –Mmph!”
Ethne suddenly kissed Lysa hard on the mouth. Lysa stiffened in shock but very quickly melted into the kiss. She was trembling and breathless when Ethne pulled away and said, “Lysa, will you marry me?”