BRENHYA 8 By HECK The animosity between Drucia and Brenhya comes to a head. Brenhya shows her strength in a new way, and we see a little lesbian love. Comments to heck@euphony.net CHAPTER EIGHT For some months, the tension between Brenhya and Drucia, the girl she had humiliated when she first arrived at the Hall, had been growing. Brenhya had done nothing to inflame the situation, but was aware of a heightened atmosphere of animosity whenever the two were in sight of each other. That manifested itself in sarcastic comments on Drucia’s part, designed to anger and provoke. Brenhya met the taunts with silent contempt. Evenings at the Hall were largely spent in pleasant conversation, companionship, or playing card or board games. Sometimes, Brenhya and Jaliza were occupied with their various duties, but most often were able to spend this time together. Together with two other young women, tonight they were in the common room playing a game called “Kissiki”, involving counters and a pair of nine-sided dice. Their two friends, Marisalle and Finulla, were wearing the grey shifts of the acolytes they were. Jaliza was, as always, in her white robes, and Brenhya, having put away her uniform, was clad in a simple patterned dress. Jaliza threw the dice to show a seven and an icon of a chalice. This allowed her to move her counter up one row, and seven squares in either direction. ‘...four, five, six, seven...’, she counted, landing on a square occupied by Brenhya’s last remaining piece. ‘Ha!’, she crowed. ‘Got you again, Bren! You’re out.’ Brenhya removed her brass headband with a sigh, and ran her fingers through her luxuriant mane, stretching her long body. ‘One day, Jal’, she grinned. ‘One day I’ll beat you at this’. ‘Never happen’, her friend said with a wry smile. ‘Besides, you can’t be good at everything, can you?’ The door opened and Drucia, just off shift and still in full uniform, stalked in. As tall as Brenhya but about thirty pounds heavier, she was not ugly, but neither was she beautiful. The epitome of bovine plainness, her heavy, coarse features curled into a sneer when she saw Brenhya enjoying the company of her friends. She was a big, strong, muscular girl but her muscles, covered in a layer of fat, lacked the definition and density of Brenhya’s. Drucia had not had a good day. She had been cautioned by her Sergeant, yet again, for bullying the Warriors in her squad, and was still seething from the indignity of being chastened in front of her phalanx. As she strode into the common room, Marisalle spoke sotto voce. ‘Oh, look. Here comes the Cellulite Queen’. Brenhya and Jaliza exchanged knowing looks. ‘Uh-oh’, Jaliza breathed. Drucia crossed the room in two strides. Her meaty hand closed on the scruff of the acolyte’s neck. ‘What did you say, acolyte?’ ‘Nothing! Nothing!’, the terrified girl squeaked. Her friend, Finulla, scurried to safety on the far side of the room. Brenhya watched through narrowed eyes. ‘Dru!’, she snarled quietly. The big corporal felt herself quake a little at the quiet ferocity in the single syllable. On her dignity, though, she quickly recovered her composure and whirled to face the seated Warrior. She tapped the rank insignia on her shoulder. ‘That’s “Corporal” to you, sprog’. ‘Oh, leave it out, Dru’, Jaliza interjected. ‘You’re off duty’. ‘You keep out of this, Shrimp’. ‘That’s “Sister Shrimp” to you, “Corporal”. You know the rules. Off duty, it’s given names’. With a speed that belied her bulk, Drucia’s beefy arm shot out and her knuckles smacked into Jaliza’s mouth. The small girl flew backwards out of her chair and halfway across the room. Brenhya was on her feet and crouching at her friend’s side in an instant. She had not expected even Drucia to break the Warrior’s Code so blatantly by striking someone so very much smaller. ‘You OK, Jal?’ Jaliza nodded, wiping blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. Brenhya stood and faced her enemy, eyes and voice deathly cold. ‘That’s it, Dru. You’ve gone far enough. Get out of here now, while you still can’. Drucia shook a thick finger at her nemesis. ‘You’, she rasped, ‘have been a thorn in my side since you came here. It’s past time you and I had a reckoning’. ‘Yes’, Brenhya agreed. ‘But not here’. ‘Here’s just fine’, Drucia snarled, and rushed forward. Brenhya had just time to brace herself as the big girl’s armoured shoulder slammed into her stomach. She grunted with the impact, and was rocked backwards a couple of steps. Drucia, who had expected her charge to carry her opponent to the floor, felt as if her shoulder had smashed into a tree. Brenhya wrapped her arms about Drucia’s thick waist and heaved her off her feet. Drucia found herself dangling head downwards, feet kicking uselessly above Brenhya’s head, before she was heaved up into a backbreaking position across the strong girl’s broad shoulder. This was Brenhya’s mistake, as it brought Drucia’s fists within range of her face. There was an audible smack as the corporal’s big fist connected with the side of Brenhya’s head, and both went down in a heap. Brenhya was slightly dizzied by the blow, and shook her head as she warded off her antagonist’s follow-up punches with her arms. She managed to get a grip on Drucia’s hair, and pulled the heavy girl toward her, looping an arm around her neck. Drucia’s head now trapped in the crook of a strong arm, Brenhya began to apply pressure. The great bicep swelled mightily and became rock hard, clamping off the carotid artery while the corded muscles of her forearm performed the same function on the other side. At the same time, she caught and held both Drucia’s flailing wrists with her other hand. After a few minutes of this treatment, Drucia’s body gradually stopped thrashing and went limp. Brenhya rolled the inert body away from her and stood up. ‘Is she ...’, Jaliza asked in a small voice. Brenhya dropped a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘No. I just put her to slee-eee!’ The last word turned into a cry of surprise as Brenhya felt strong hands grasp her ankles and yank her legs out from under her. Drucia had been feigning unconsciousness and, although still light headed, was sufficiently alert to whip off her cloak and bundle Brenhya up in it. Encumbered, Brenhya was unable to see where her opponent was and pulled at the cloth while Drucia planted kick after kick in her ribs, each impact driving air out of her lungs with an “Oof!”. ‘This’, Brenhya said aloud, ‘has gone far enough’. The anger in her voice, even though muffled, was obvious to all the watchers. She ignored Drucia’s continuing kicks, and took a handful of the tough material in each hand. In the semi-darkness under the cloak, her muscles tensed and became iron-hard as she tore a great rent in the heavy cloth. She got a hand free just in time to catch Drucia’s foot as the heavier girl aimed a particularly vicious kick, and easily flipped her onto her back. Brenhya shed the remains of the cloak and sprang to her feet in a flickering shoulder spring. As Drucia stood up, Brenhya lashed out a long, powerful leg. Her foot connected with the older girl’s jaw and snapped her head back. Brenhya landed a hard fist in Drucia’s midriff which doubled her over, and followed it up with a raised knee that mushed her nose. Blood spattered over her knee and Drucia’s face. Wanting to finish the fight but mindful not to kill or permanently disable her opponent, Brenhya began to systematically and methodically land high kicks, punches, and hard elbows on Drucia’s body and head, until the heavier woman was reduced to a standstill. She took hold of the collar of Drucia’s armour, slammed her against the wall, and cocked a big fist. ‘If you ever hurt one of my friends again ...’ Drucia squeezed her eyes shut as the fist, propelled by the strongest arm in the Order, flashed toward her face. At the last instant, Brenhya turned it aside and her fist slammed into the wooden wall, smashing through the planking and burying itself wrist deep. She drew her fist back again. ‘If you ever ...’ ‘Brenhya!’ The voice came from behind her, and Brenhya recognised it as that of Sister Friendship, the Priest in charge of the Dormitory. She let go of Drucia, who slid slowly down the wall, and turned to face the irate Sister. If there were an image to fit the word “fulminating”, Captain Vara was it. She glared in stern silence across the table in her office at the two young women standing to attention. Lieutenant Athlo stood behind her, lips pressed together in an expression that was just as severe. Brenhya stood erect, head held high, arms straight by her sides, surreptitiously easing her weight from one foot to the other. A livid bruise encircled her right eye, she was dirty and sweaty, her dress was torn and her hair was in disarray, but she still carried herself with grace and dignity, ready to accept whatever punishment was meted out. On the other hand, Drucia was a picture of dishevelment. Her nose was swollen, red, and bloody, her left ear had been almost ripped from her head by one of Brenhya’s kicks and she stood half crouched as she cradled a broken rib with one arm. Under knitted brows, she shot glances at Brenhya that were half afraid, half contemptuous. Captain Vara stood up and walked around the table. She stood right behind and between the two women and spoke quietly and firmly in their ears. There was no mistaking the controlled rage in her voice. ‘What are the Tenets we live by?’ ‘None shall be put above another’, Brenhya recited. ‘Each shall care for the other. None shall harm another’. Drucia remained sullen. ‘None shall harm another’, the Captain echoed. ‘Well, you seem to have forgotten that one, don’t you?’ ‘It’s her’, Drucia spat. ‘Ever since she came here ...’ ‘Quiet, Corporal!’, The Captain snapped. ‘But she ...’ ‘I said quiet! You’re in enough trouble. Don’t dig yourself in any deeper. Do you realise that there hasn’t been a fight between two women at this Hall for over fifty years?’ She walked round to face them. ‘You’, she went on, looking directly at Drucia, ‘have brought disgrace on the corps and on the Hall’. ‘Captain’, Brenhya said. ‘I was just as involved as the Corporal, and just as much to blame’. ‘Don’t do me any favours’, Drucia muttered. ‘Yes, Brenhya. You are to blame. For the damage to the common room wall. But we have been watching your behaviour, Corporal. You have been repeatedly censured for bullying, and have been provoking Brenhya for several months, now. You, and you alone, are responsible for this fight, and you will bear the brunt of the punishment for it. We have taken the matter to Sister Serenity, as is customary, and these are the sanctions she has decreed . ‘Brenhya, for damaging the wall, you will miss out on your next two scheduled trips outside.’ ‘Yes, Captain’, Brenhya acquiesced. ‘Drucia, for repeated infractions of discipline, bullying, and for instigating this fight, you are banished from this Order forthwith. You will leave tonight, taking no more from this community than you arrived with’. Drucia looked as if she had been slapped in the face. Brenhya’s mouth fell open in shock at the severity of the punishment. ‘Captain, I ...’, she began. ‘Hold your tongue, soldier’, the Lieutenant hissed. ‘It’s all right, Lieutenant’, Captain Vara said. ‘It might seem harsh to you, Brenhya, but this ...this woman has brought it on herself. You only know what you know, but there have been doubts about her for a long time’. She say back in her chair with a sigh. ‘Drucia, you are stripped of your rank. You will collect your things and leave. You will not speak to anyone or have contact with anyone. Go now’. Drucia turned on her heel, giving Brenhya a look of pure hatred. She glared for a long moment, making it obvious that she blamed the Warrior for her predicament, before skulking from the office. Brenhya had the distinct feeling it was not over between them. The Captain turned to her. It seemed that her anger had dissipated with Drucia’s departure ‘You can go too. Get yourself cleaned up, get that eye seen to, and rest up before your next duty shift’. ‘Captain’, Brenhya began. Vara held up a hand. ‘You are blameless in this incident, Brenhya. Oh, sure, you punched a hole through the wall and it seems you did that on purpose, and you have received your punishment’ She gave a little snorting laugh. ‘Frankly, I am surprised that you resisted wiping the floor with the bitch as long as you did. And I am told that, throughout the fight, you did your utmost to avoid injuring her more than was necessary. You adhered in spirit, if not to the letter of the Codes and Tenets, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Now, you’re dismissed’. Brenhya hesitated and looked as if she might speak again. ‘I said “dismissed”, soldier. Go’. Brenhya went. A week or so after the departure of Drucia, Captain Vara and Lieutenant Athlo were standing together in the gymnasium, watching the women of Brenhya’s squad working out. Eleven of the twelve Warriors were on the Loop but Brenhya, in halter and skirt, was pacing up and down beside the Stones of Gloire, never taking her eyes from the largest Stone, glaring at it as if it were a mortal enemy. She had done this several times over the last couple of weeks, but had never attempted to lift the Stone. Vara nudged the lieutenant in the ribs and spoke out of the corner of her mouth. ‘D’you think she’s going to try today?’ ‘Dunno, Captain. Could be, though. She’s certainly working herself up for something’. As they watched her, they discussed her future. They had already decided to offer her promotion, to take over Drucia’s now corporal-less squad when, of a sudden, Brenhya stopped pacing and turned away. She walked straight to where the leather apron hung and slipped it over her head. Athlo gripped the Captain’s hand in anticipation. ‘Lieutenant!’ Athlo looked sheepish. ‘Sorry, Captain’. She let go. Brenhya stood motionless, staring at the huge Stone, hatred for the inanimate object etched on her features. Just on the edge of hearing, the officers heard a low, rumbling growl begin deep in her chest, forcing it’s way past her gritted white teeth. As the growl grew in volume to become a throaty snarl, she began smacking her hands together and slapping her shoulders and thighs. All activity in the gymnasium came to a halt as the squad gathered round to watch. To a woman, they held their breath. With a final roar, Brenhya strode up to the great Stone and squatted in front of it. She positioned her long arms around it, unable to completely encircle it’s girth by a wide margin. She took her grip. Tiny cascades of powdery dust fell where her iron fingers gripped. She took a deep breath. Her tremendous thigh muscles bunched and drove upwards. Her breath hissed out through her nostrils like escaping steam. The Stone came clear of the floor, and Brenhya rolled it up onto her chest, adjusting her grip slightly, her arm muscles rolling and rippling. Slowly she turned, step by step, across the six or so yards to the four and a half foot pedestal. She heaved the Stone up the extra few inches needed to clear the edge, and placed it gently on top, holding it steady to ensure it would not roll off again. Satisfied, she stepped back as tradition demanded, to show that it was stable and standing freely, then stepped up to it again to lift it clear of the plinth. She carried it back to its position and carefully, under total control, lowered it back onto its spot. She stood. Breathing heavily and slightly red in the face, she stared at the titanic Stone for a brief moment. Then the enormity of her achievement hit her. ‘Yesss!’ She leapt high off the floor, punching the air with elation. There was a collective “whoosh” as thirteen pairs of lungs expelled the breath they had been holding. A huge cheer went up and everyone in the room, officers included began applauding madly. A delighted grin on her lovely face, Brenhya walked among them, upraised palms receiving slaps of congratulations from everyone. The women clustered round her, hoisted her up, and paraded her shoulder-high around the gymnasium, clapping and chanting her name. Vara and Athlo stood back, watching the parade, allowing Brenhya her moment of glory. There aren’t many of those in this life, Athlo thought, and Goddess knows, she deserves it. Vara tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Do you know what I’m thinking, Lieutenant?’ ‘Can’t say I do, Captain’. ‘The Wheelbow’. ‘The Wheelbow?’ ‘The Wheelbow’ ‘But nobody’s used that since Gloire, over two hundred years. Nobody’s been strong enough’. ‘So? You’ve just seen her lift the Gloire Stone, haven’t you? Nobody’s done that since Gloire, either. And, according to legend, Gloire was over twenty when she did it. Brenhya’s only sixteen’. ‘You’ve got a point, there, Captain. And we’ve kept the bow in mint condition. If she can use it, it’d be a great asset. Can’t hurt to let her try’. ‘Right, see to it, Lieutenant’. Vara turned on her heel and left the gymnasium. Athlo watched the celebrations for a few seconds more. ‘Brenhya!’, she called. The Warrior turned, still flushed with elation, and beamed a wide smile. ‘Lieutenant?’ ‘Report to the archery range after the midday recess. The rest of you, go about your duties’. ‘Yes, Lieutenant’, they chorused. In her office, Captain Vara went to a plain, unadorned cabinet in the corner of the room. Taking a small key from her belt pouch, she unlocked it and opened the doors wide. The Wheelbow hung inside on specially constructed brackets. She took it down and ran her hands over its smooth, polished curves. A beautiful piece of workmanship, it was a heavy weapon, six feet from tip to tip, that had been painstakingly maintained over the years and looked as if had just been made. As thick at the centre as a man’s wrist, with a cleverly carved ebony handgrip, it had been expertly crafted from laminated layers of timber of several different types. Soft woods that would compress formed the inner layers, and progressively harder woods were used towards the outer. Its deeply recurved shape was almost womanly in outline, and as the Captain held it in her hands she could feel it’s perfect balance. At the tapering tip of the lower arm of the bow was a small pulley, or wheel, that gave the bow its name, and without which it would have been impossible, even for Gloire, to draw. A continuous loop of braided thong running through the pulley formed the bowstring, and at the upper tip was a slot to take the other pulley, presently contained in a leather pouch. A quiver made of stiff leather contained a dozen arrows. These were about three feet in length, as thick as a man’s thumb to take the added forces of the bow, and shod with heavy pyramidal steel heads. They were fletched with two feathers instead of the usual three, to allow passage of the inner strand of the string without deflection. In themselves, they were fine examples of the Fletcher’s art. The Captain thought she might try to string the bow, to hand it to Brenhya ready for use, but when she attempted to brace the weapon, strong and wiry as she was, she knew straight away that it would be beyond her. ‘Ah, well’, she said to herself. ‘If she can’t string it herself, she won’t be able to use it’. The archery range was in a courtyard in the centre of the Hall that formed a whole floor. Three stories up, it was open to the sky above and surrounded by high crenellated walls. A platform ran around the inside of these walls, about six feet from the top, for use by archers in times of siege which were not unknown in the past. Even now, the walls were patrolled by archers day and night. Inside the yard, a row of thick, plaited straw man-shaped targets stood along one edge. Behind them, the stone walls were lined with thick rush mats to protect the heads of stray arrows and to minimise any rebounds. Slots in the walls allowed for firing points for yet more archers. After a lunch of fruit and goat’s milk, Brenhya made her way to the range. She was unsure of why she had been summoned there. She was already very proficient with her longbow, and was unable to see a reason for an unscheduled practice. On arrival, she was met by her Captain and Lieutenant Athlo. She marched smartly up to them and drew herself to attention. ‘Captain. Lieutenant’. ‘Brenhya’, the Captain greeted her. ‘Relax. We’ve decided you need a little extra archery practice’. She gave a knowing grin as she stepped aside to reveal the Wheelbow lying on velvet cloth on a bench. ‘With this’. Brenhya’s mouth fell open as she beheld the beautiful weapon. ‘Is that ...?’ ‘Yes’, said Athlo. ‘It’s the Wheelbow. Gloire’s weapon. We’d like to see if you can handle it. Well, go on, girl. Pick it up. It won’t bite’. Brenhya hefted the weighty weapon easily. It’s exquisitely crafted handgrip fit her large hand as if it had been made for it. She gazed lovingly at it’s sleek, supple curves, admired its perfect balance. She felt immediately at home with the bow, as if this was the weapon she had been born to use. ‘How do I string it?’, she asked. Vara handed her the other pulley. ‘Slip the string around this wheel, and fit it into the slot at the top’. ‘Yes, I can see, now’, Brenhya replied. She did as she was instructed, and braced the lower arm of the bow under her foot. She took the upper tip in her right hand. Her muscles jumped into detail, the bicep growing big, hard and round as she slowly forced the end of the massive weapon down and pulled the string up to meet it. She slipped the pulley into it’s slot. Under pressure, the bow all but vibrated with its own power. Brenhya tugged experimentally at the string. ‘Quite a draw’, she commented. ‘Over 270 pounds’, Vara said. ‘Nobody has been able to draw it for ...well, since Gloire, actually. But we think you might. Try that target over there’. The three women were standing in one corner of the range. The target the Captain indicated was in the opposite corner, about 400 yards away, and had been turned slightly to face them. Lieutenant Athlo handed Brenhya one of the heavy arrows. She nocked it on the string, raised the bow high, and drew the string back as she lowered it. She pulled it back to its full extension, muscles in her arms like steel hawsers containing the 270-pound-plus strain, nose, lips and chin against the string. She took a breath, held it, and let fly. The arrow screamed as it ripped the air with the speed of it’s passage. Brenhya gasped as she saw the centre of the target, its “chest”, burst apart as the arrow smashed right through it. The target wavered for an instant, then toppled sideways to reveal the arrow, buried for a quarter if its depth, in the rush matting behind. ‘Goddess!’, Brenhya breathed as they walked across. ‘Quite!’, agreed the Captain. ‘That arrow is three feet long, and must be in a good nine inches’, reported Athlo. ‘That’s interesting, when you think that the matting is only six inches thick’. The women looked at each other in wonderment as they peeled back the matting. The arrow had penetrated the tough mortar between two of the granite blocks to a depth of three inches. ‘With a bow like this’, Brenhya said as she laid hold of the arrow. It took nearly all of her tremendous strength to pull it free. ‘With a bow like this I could hit a target a half a league away!’ ‘Let’s see if you can’, Vara said. She produced a telescope from the depths of her cloak. She went to one of the slots in the wall and peered through the spyglass. Shortly, she identified a target, and beckoned Brenhya over. She handed her the eyepiece. ‘Do you see there?’, she asked. ‘A flint boulder about man-sized or a bit bigger? Next to the hawthorn bushes.’ ‘I see it’, Brenhya confirmed. ‘Can you see it with your eye?’ The Warrior girl put aside the telescope. ‘Just’, she said. ‘Let me try’. She took up the bow, nocked another arrow, and fired. The arrow flew straight and true, but lost momentum as it neared the target. A clump of thistles, about 60 yards short of the boulder, exploded in a shower of thorns, leaves and earth. ‘Missed’, said Lieutenant Athlo, who had been watching from another slot. ‘Yes, Lieutenant’, agreed Brenhya. ‘But my aim wasn’t off. The bow doesn’t quite have the range. Let me try something’. She unstrung the bow and turned the top pulley around in her hand, putting several twists in the looped thong. To restring the bow, with the string now a few inches shorter, caused even Brenhya considerable effort. The wood groaned as she forced the pulley into it’s notch. She hefted the weapon and prepared to draw. ‘She’ll never do it’, Athlo whispered to the Captain. ‘She hasn’t got the advantage of the pulleys, now’ ‘Ten groats on it?’ ‘Done’. As the two officers watched in amazement, the powerful muscles of Brenhya’s back and shoulders coiled and roiled. Her arms, as if sculpted from pure metal, braced the bow and began to pull. The string came back inch by inch, and the wood of the Wheelbow itself creaked in protest at her inexorable strength as it bent. There was just the slightest trace of a tremor in her shoulders as she hauled the string back to touch her lips, sighted quickly, and let go. There was a loud “crack!”. The string thwacked against her brass wrist guard, leaving a line of indentation where it hit. The arrow covered the half-league distance in less time than it takes to tell. A big chip shattered off the flint, and the arrow struck ground about twenty yards further on, burying itself in the earth to over half its length. All three women, each at a separate slot, watched awestruck as the mighty weapon did its devastating work. Careful not to show it, both officers were also awestruck at Brenhya’s display of enormous power although she, as usual, did not make a big deal of it. ‘You owe me ten groats, Lieutenant’, Vara said out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Brenhya. Well done. I don’t think even Gloire could have drawn the Wheelbow with the string shortened like that. What do you think of it?’ ‘It’s a wonderful weapon’, Brenhya said. ‘And it’s beautifully made. I like it’. Vara nodded. ‘Fair enough. Its yours’, she said ‘Corporal’, she added with a smile. ‘What? I mean, pardon, Captain’. ‘The Wheelbow is yours’. ‘Yes. I mean thank you. Really. But the other part?’ ‘Corporal?’ She laid a hand on Brenhya’s shoulder and shook her hand. ‘Here is your raven’. ‘Corporal. Me? Thank you, Captain!’ ‘A pleasure, Corporal. I wish I had a hundred like you’. ‘Congratulations, Corporal’, Lieutenant Athlo enjoined, also shaking Brenhya’s hand. ‘With immediate effect, you will transfer to blue phalanx, and take over C squad. Drucia’s old team’. ‘Yes, Lieutenant’. ‘Dismissed, Corporal’, said the Captain. Brenhya turned smartly on her heel and marched off the range, her new weapon under her arm. What a day! First the Gloire Stone, then the Wheelbow, now a promotion! She was so delighted, her happiness almost showed in her eyes. Almost. At eighteen years of age, she had been promoted again, to Sergeant, and ran her phalanx firmly but with scrupulous fairness. She had reached her full growth, and stood just a hair’s breadth under six feet tall, with wide shoulders that appeared even wider when she wore her shoulder armour, a narrow waist with deeply cut musculature, and long, long legs that could run for hours without tiring. Her breasts were large, but not enormously so; perfect globes of femaleness that stood proud and erect, supported by the solid slabs of her pectorals. Except for her hands, which were large, and her wrists, which were thick, she was perfectly proportioned. In the same way that a top racing filly is entirely female, her muscles were large, vascular, well defined and hard as diamond, but at the same time completely and utterly feminine. At contests of strength or athletics, she was unmatchable by anybody in the Order. She was without doubt the strongest woman since Gloire; there were those of her peers that would be prepared to swear that she was the strongest woman, the strongest person, alive or dead, male or female, since forever. Waves of glossy auburn hair tumbling past her shoulders, framing a face that was heart-stoppingly lovely, and a smile that showed strong, even, white teeth and could light up a room, together with her unique combination of muscular strength, athleticism, and sensuality, made her a glorious picture of unparalleled beauty. She formed the epitome of gorgeous young womanhood. To describe Brenhya as “desirable” was like describing a gourmet meal as “nice”. On her excursions into town men would stop in their tracks to gawp at her, mouths open like stranded codfish, and many would find some excuse to pass her by several times in the space of a few minutes. Some would even pick up the nerve to speak to her, and engage her in conversation for a few minutes just for the pleasure of being seen with her. Even women threw her admiring glances, if tinged with envy. Brenhya was desirable, all right. She was beautifully, stunningly, mouth- wateringly, achingly, painfully desirable. And everybody knew it. Except Brenhya. On her trips into Brandwick, she continued to visit Ped. These often turned into sexual encounters, and both enjoyed them immensely, but the relationship had become comfortable and they occasionally just sat and talked, with no pressure. Today was just such an occasion. They sat on bales in the livery. Ped was talking about a new horse his father had purchased, but after a while it became obvious that Brenhya was only half listening and was preoccupied with other thoughts. ‘...so then’, Ped said, ‘we lit a fire under its tail and roasted its nuts off’. ‘Mmm’, said Brenhya. ‘That’s nice’. ‘I knew it! You aren’t listening to me at all, are you?’ ‘What? Oh. Sorry, Ped. I’m leagues away. What were you saying?’ ‘There’s something on your mind, isn’t there?’ She nodded. ‘Uh-huh. Want to tell me about it?’ ‘There’s nothing to tell, really’, Brenhya said. ‘Nothing important, anyway’. ‘So humour me. Tell me anyway’. ‘It’s just that, whenever I come into town, I see people looking at me. Men especially. In a funny kind of way. I see them looking at the others from the Hall, and put it down to curiosity, but they look at me ...differently. I was wondering why’. Ped gave a short laugh. ‘Ha! Have you looked at yourself in the glass, lately?’. Brenhya looked puzzled. ‘Yes. So?’ ‘Well, you must have seen ...you’re a very lovely girl, Bren ...ah ...the men, they ...you see, they ...ah ...’ ‘What are you trying to say?’ Ped was obviously flustered. ‘Look’, he said. ‘Why don’t you ask Sister Devotion? She’ll know what to say’. ‘Who?’ ‘You know. Jal’. ‘Oh! Yes, you’re right. She’ll know. She’s gotten so wise, lately. I’ll ask her’. Brenhya jumped to her feet and planted a big kiss on his mouth. ‘Thanks for your help’, she called over her shoulder as she trotted out. ‘See you next time’. ‘Bren! Wait! I ...’, Ped called after her. But she was gone. A fully ordained Priest was given a small study of her own, a little sanctuary where she could be alone to meditate or just be alone. Brenhya often spent time in Jaliza’s study, where the two friends sat and talked, often late into the night. They were in there now, sitting together on a tiny sofa that was the room’s only furniture. Brenhya had explained her quandary. Jaliza put a hand on the back of her big friend’s neck and pulled her down so she could rest her forehead on Brenhya’s. ‘Bren, Bren, Bren’, she smiled. ‘What am I going to do with you? So mature and wise in so many ways, but in others ...well, the word “naive” comes to mind’. ‘Why’, Brenhya wanted to know, not offended but curious. ‘Well, look at you! You’re so lovely! You’re absolutely drop-dead gorgeous! You’re the most beautiful woman at the Hall! No wonder the men look at you. They ...want you’. Brenhya pushed the small Priest away playfully. ‘Hmph!’, she snorted. ‘Well that’s just rubbish, Jal. I’m no more beautiful than you. Or anybody else, for that matter. Just look at that Geana. She’s an absolute peach. And so is Finulla. No. I don’t think I’m beautiful at all’. ‘Well, you must be looking through a different sort of eyes than the rest of us, is all I can say’. ‘Hmph!’ The two sat in silence for a minute. Jaliza was the first to speak. ‘Bren, d’you mind if I ask you a personal question?’ The Warrior regarded her with a raised eyebrow. She turned slightly in her seat to face her friend. ‘Personal? There’s nothing “personal” between you and me, Jal. You know that. Go ahead’. ‘Are you really happy, here?’ ‘Of course I am. Why do you ask?’ ‘It’s just that, well, you laugh and smile with the rest of us, you get angry and you get sad, but I’ve never seen you cry, and it never reaches your eyes. There’s no emotion there. No, hold on a minute’. She held up a hand as Brenhya opened her mouth. ‘It makes me think that either you’re unhappy here, or there’s something in your past that you’re suppressing. Am I right’. Brenhya looked at her best friend for a long time before replying. Her voice was solemn. ‘Goddess, you’re getting so wise, Jal. Yes. You’re right. There is something, something I’ve kept bottled up, and always will until I’ve resolved it. As far as other people are concerned, anyway. Sister Serenity knows, of course. And you, of all people, deserve to know too’. Brenhya settled herself, and began to tell Jaliza everything. She left nothing out, no graphic detail, nor trauma, nor moment of grief. At the point where she described the horrendous rape of her mother, Jaliza gathered her big friend into her arms and, incongruously, protectively cradled Brenhya’s head against her small shoulder as the tale was completed. At the end, silent tears rolled down Jaliza’s cherubic face. Brenhya still displayed no emotion in her eyes, but felt as though she had undergone a cleansing catharsis. She thanked Jaliza for listening. ‘Shh’, the Priest said. ‘I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you’. The two sat in silence, Warrior’s head on Priest’s shoulder. After a few minutes, Jaliza turned and kissed the top of Brenhya’s head. The larger woman lifted her face with a wistful smile. Jaliza kissed her eyes closed, and the tip of her nose. Then she kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘Jal? What are you doing?’ ‘Shh’. She kissed her again, still gently, but longer this time. Brenhya felt an unusual longing, and returned the kiss. Their tongues met, tentatively at first, but then more urgently as each realised her desire for the other. Brenhya’s big hand found Jaliza’s small, firm breast, and began to massage it firmly but lovingly. Jaliza moved her mouth down under her friend’s chin and pecked tiny kisses in the hollow of her throat, flicking with her tongue. Brenhya had never felt anything so erotic, like the flutter of a tiny bird against her skin. She pushed the small woman away for a second and slipped out of the print dress she was wearing, revealing her body in all it’s naked, muscular glory. Jaliza took the hint and stood, almost tearing off her Priest’s robes in her haste to get naked too, showing a pretty, toned body of her own. Brenhya stood as well, and Jaliza found that, by just turning her head down slightly, she could get her mouth to the splendid breasts. She took a perfect nipple in her mouth and suckled it urgently, her tiny hand kneading the other breast, rolling the nipple between finger and thumb. The smaller girl gave a little giggle as she felt Brenhya’s strong hands go under her armpits. She was lifted clear off the floor until her face was level with the powerful woman’s, and Brenhya kissed her mouth, long, hard, and deep. Jaliza wrapped her legs round the sculpted waist so Brenhya could get her hands free to do some serious exploring, and she ran her hands over the broad back and shoulders, delighting in the feel of the great muscles rolling under the flawless skin. Supporting Jaliza in this way, Brenhya let her hand trace the line of her lover’s spine until it found the top of the cleft between the tight little buttocks. Jaliza let out a tiny cry as the long finger followed the cleft and flicked across her anus. Still kissing mouth on mouth, Brenhya soon found the moistness she had been looking for, and slipped the first joint of her finger inside the flaps there. Jaliza’s legs tightened around Brenhya’s waist as she felt the thrill. Her juices began to flow more freely as the finger slid deeper inside her vagina and began to move around. She gave another cry as Brenhya added another finger, and pulled her mouth from the larger girl’s with a throaty ‘Ohh!’, when Brenhya’s thumb found her clitoris and began to play with it, rubbing it slowly and then with increasing speed. Jaliza felt her orgasm approaching. Her legs clamped even tighter and her fingers dug hard into the round caps of Brenhya’s deltoid muscles, making absolutely no impression on their rubbery hardness. Her teeth clenched and her breath rasped through them. ‘Ohh! Bren! Ohh! Bren! Bren! Ohh-h-h-h-h-h-h--h--h--h!’ While Jaliza’s whole body convulsed in climax against her powerful friend, Brenhya easily bore the weight and held her as she spasmed. As the waves of orgasm subsided, Jaliza nuzzled her face into Brenhya’s neck and hair before kissing her mouth. Then arms round Brenhya’s neck, she unclamped her legs and lowered herself slowly down the long body. Both women enjoyed the sensation as their bodies, a thin film of sweat between them, slid over each other. On reaching the floor, Jaliza sank to her knees between the muscular columns of Brenhya’s legs. She looked up at the smiling face above. ‘Your turn’, she said with a elfin grin. She ran her hands up the backs of Brenhya’s powerful, shapely thighs and cupped an iron-hard buttock in each hand. Then she nuzzled her face into the chestnut thatch and breathed in the warm wetness. Tiny droplets of moisture, like dew on morning grass, sparkled among the curls. Brenhya spread her legs a little wider to give Jaliza better access. The small girl ran her tongue up between the vaginal lips and into the vulva. Pushing deeper, the tip of her tongue found the mouth of Brenhya’s tunnel and probed inside. She licked deep into the dark warmth, and let her tongue play around the swollen button of Brenhya’s clitoris before plunging in once more. This was repeated several times, until Jaliza felt Brenhya’s strong hand on the back of her head, restraining her so that she could not have removed her mouth had she wanted to. Jaliza felt Brenhya’s vagina begin to pulse against her tongue. She turned her mouth away, still held by Brenhya’s hand, and replaced it with her thumb. Pushing the digit as deep as she could, she moved it in and out to the rhythm of the pulsing. Brenhya’s hands went to her own breasts as she gave out a long moan. Jaliza quickly moved her head and started to kiss the flat, hard belly while she stroked her thumb up and down. When the first wave of her orgasm hit her, Brenhya’s knees turned to jelly and she sat down heavily on the sofa, Jaliza’s hand was trapped, but she continued to move her thumb. The tall woman’s body was wracked with delight as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her, and she cried out in sheer pleasure as she came, and came, and came. As the climax receded, Brenhya lay back on the sofa with eyes closed and a dreamy expression. Tiny, popping climaxes continued for a couple of minutes and she made a little mewing noise with each one. At last, the pleasure was over, and she just lay there totally relaxed and, for the minute, totally happy. Someone was calling her name. ‘Bren’. ‘Bren!’ She opened one eye. ‘Hmm?’ ‘My hand? Please?’