Night of the Forest Fort
by Bomur
Entry for Fiction Competition


Night of the Forest Fort
========================

        The sun was beginning to set as Vara descended from the tree.
The night would bring a full moon, but she felt that there would be
enough cloud to give her the periods of darkness she would need.
The tree had afforded her a comprehensive view of Omphale's fort, which
had been larger than one would have expected to be held by twelve of so
soldiers, which was another factor in Vara's favour.  It was unlikely
that there would be enough sentries to cover all of the perimeter
simultaneously. 

        Vara needed all the advantages she could get.  Her mission, set
upon her by Queen Miochelle, was straightforward: penetrate the
fortress, defeat all opposition, deliver Omphale and her army to the
royal court.  Behind the bald words lay countless practical
difficulties, not the least of which was Omphale herself.  The renegade
captain was a formidable warrior, said to be fearsome in battle.  And
Miochelle wanted her captured alive.  As if that was not enough, Omphale
had recruited an unknown to serve as her lieutenant,  a woman who had
tempered her Captain's often inexplicable bouts of irrational behaviour.
In recent months the renegade army had turned from a minor annoyance to
a serious embarrassment to the royal court.  Should Omphale take it into
her head to expand her band of loyal soldiers, the embarrassment would
swiftly turn into an actual threat to the throne.

        Unfortunately, much of Miochelle's forces were committed
elsewhere, and the deployment of the royal guard was considered
politically undesirable.  So mercenaries would have to do the job.  And
Vara had always appreciated a challenge.

        ****

        Night fell swiftly, bringing both darkness and a gentle but
insistent rainfall.  Visibility had been cut to thirty paces when the
moon shone, and to virtually nothing when it did not.  The erratic
periods of light and dark had worked to Vara's advantage, allowing her
fairly simple access to the fortress walls, hiding her while she
silently scaled the sheer face with grapple and rope, yet lighting up
just enough to reveal an alcove where she could hide until a guard came.

        The four sentries appeared to be evenly spaced, circling the
fort walls once every twenty minutes, which meant that Vara could expect
company very soon.  She considered which method of attack she should
employ.  Silence was imperative.  Should an alarm be sounded, her
mission would end swiftly in failure.  The long dagger suggested itself,
but Vara decided on the cord garrotte.  An unmarked uniform could prove
indispensable inside the main buildings.

        One minute later a sentry walked past the alcove where Vara was
concealed.  With practised ease, the mercenary crept up behind the
guard, slipped the cord around her neck and pulled her to the ground.
Putting a knee between the guard's shoulderblades for leverage, Vara
dispatched the guard in seconds, and in complete silence.  As soon as
the body had been dragged back to the alcove, she examined the clothing
and weapons.  

        The uniform was simple; a cloth shirt under lightweight chain
mail, leather breeches and a fur-lined cloak with a hood.  The cloak
could prove useful, but the mail was not dissimilar from Vara's own.
The guard had been equipped with a flail; unusual but effective at close
range.  Vara was familiar with its proper usage but preferred weapons
she trusted, so she ignored it and waited for the next guard to appear.

        One down, eleven at least to go.  The chain mail was not a
surprise, but it bothered her.  The choice of attack had been proven
correct; her knife may not have penetrated far enough to kill quickly,
if it had penetrated the mail at all.  Moreover, had the mail provided
protection for the wearer's neck, even the garrotte may not have worked.
But a kill was a kill, and the odds had been evened ever so slightly in
Vara's favour.

        The second sentry was armed with a spear, which was useless
against Vara's close-quarters assault.  The garrotte bit deep into her
neck and throat, throttling any cry of alarm.  She thrashed around for
longer than the first, but the outcome was the same.  Vara noted her
heavier build, which added to the difficulty in dragging the body to her
place of concealment.  Examining the body, the mercenary found her
clothing to be identical to that of the first.  It was almost certain
that the other women would be similarly dressed.  Given that her alcove
was now getting a little crowded, perhaps a change in tactics was called
for.

        ***

        Listella hated sentry duty, especially when it was raining.  The
full moon, usually a blessing, shone only occasionally through the heavy
cloud, and the stars were not visible at all.  Looking into the star-
spangled night was one of the few experiences to give Listella pleasure,
but this night it was denied her.  It did not improve her disposition.
There were still another two hours to go before she could settle down
with the warmth of her cowering slave.

        She looked out from the fort wall to the forest.  No movement,
beyond the occasional small animal foraging for food.  No enemy troops,
no distant camp fires, not that a fire could be lit in this weather.
Omphale had been proven to be right; the queen had not send any troops
after them.  Soon, their numbers would grow to the point where the queen
would have no option but to wage war in her own realm against forces
that were once hers, and Omphale would be victorious, both in battle and
in the eyes of the gods, who were known to smile upon the unjustly
condemned.

        For now, Listella would have to be content with the occasional
raiding party into nearby villages. While these provided food and
slaves, it was the commensurate slaughter that appealed to her, and then
only in part.  There was small satisfaction from butchering unarmed
peasants.  Full battle with an armed foe was what she craved, and she
was drawn to those who felt the same. It was why she followed Omphale;
never had such a savage fighter taken the field, cleaving bodies in two
with a single stroke of her broadsword, smashing single-handed though
defences, wading knee-high in enemy blood.  Listella could well believe
that the hand of the gods was upon their captain when she fought.
Omphale was the fighter that Listella hoped that she could become.

        Caught up in her thoughts, Listella never heard death approach
from behind.  She registered the impact to her spine before she felt the
pain, but most of her attention was riveted on the spear-head that
erupted from her chest, settling easily between her breasts.  She
started to cry out, primarily from shock, but darkness stole over her
like a blanket.  The last thing she saw was the cloudy sky, masking the
stars she loved.

        ***
 
        Vara counted herself lucky to catch the third sentry
daydreaming, and luckier still that the kill had been silent.  When she
had seen that the guard was not wearing any mail, her throw with the
spear had been practically instantaneous but highly accurate.  Golden
opportunities were not to be wasted.

Still, her position was vulnerable.  Although not in plain view, she
could still be spotted from below, and sooner or later someone would
notice the shortage of sentries.  Speed was called for, but silence was
still her ally.  Only one sentry remained, and once she was dead the
bodies would remain undiscovered until the guard was changed, by which
time it would be too late.

        Padding along the rampart, Vara kept low to avoid detection.
She could see the remaining guard, too far away to attack.  The moon was
only partially hidden, so there was enough light to be seen, and the
guard was coming her way.  The decision took only an instant, but then
she was committed, charging forward with her sword unbuckled.  In all
ways, she was fortunate; the guard rushed to meet her rather than
standing firm,  stayed grimly silent rather than alerting others,
attempted to attack with her double-headed axe rather than defend.  As a
result,  Vara's blade separated the guard's head from her shoulders with
a single stroke.  She caught the body before it fell, ignoring the head
as it sailed over the wall to fall noiselessly to the forest floor
below. Four sentries dead, and still no alarm had been raised.  It was
all that Vara could have hoped for.

        Considering the matter much later, Vara would conclude that the
renegades' months of practically unchallenged freedom had reduced their
effectiveness.  Those who believe themselves to be invincible rarely
work to sharpen their prowess.  Vara should not have been able to
dispatch four sentries without at least one of them raising an alarm.
Overconfidence breeds indolence and sloppiness.  Perhaps Queen Miochelle
had calculated this when sending a single person against the fort,
perhaps not.  It mattered little.

        Vara backtracked to the alcove where the first two guards lay,
and donned the cloak of the first. It was heavier than it seemed.  Vara
thanked the gods she had decided against wearing it earlier, as it would
have slowed her when speed was essential.  Now speed was less important
than duplicity.  Pulling up her hood, Vara made her way down into the
main body of the fort.

        ***

        The main building in the fort was a two-story stone affair,
complete with a wooded outbuilding which appeared to have been added as
an afterthought.   It was in marked contrast to the hovels surrounding
it, and was Vara's best guess as to where Omphale would quarter herself.
There were no guards in evidence, but that did not mean that they were
not there.  Vara had not survived so long as a mercenary by veiling
harsh reality with hope.

        Nonetheless, Vara could scarcely believe she had managed to get
so near while escaping detection.  Not once had she been challenged, and
even the one slave that had seen her had scuttled off without a sound,
probably assuming she was a guard looking for someone to abuse.  But the
real test to her skills lay before her, and she would suffer no
illusions that her luck could hold.

        Nor did it.  Ten paces short of the stone entrance, a sharp
shout stopped Vara in her tracks.

        "Hey you! Stand where you are!"  The voice came from Vara's left
side, blocked from her view by the hood.  She decided to wait until the
person drew close, then attack as best she could.  If her luck could be
relied on one more time, no others would be alerted by the shout or the
impending fight.  But her luck failed her again.  Badly.

        "You know the rule: no hoods, especially at night!"  Vara could
hear the person coming closer, judging her to be less than ten paces
away.  Too far for a surprise attack, but she was getting closer, and in
seconds she would be close enough for Vara to spin and finish her before
any defence could be made.  Then a figure appeared in the doorway in
front of her, a figure she thought she recognised, hoping she was wrong.

        "What have we here?" asked the figure in the doorway.  Stepping
forward and unbuckling her sword in a smooth, fluid motion, she casually
pushed back Vara's hood with the sword's point, just when the moon broke
clear of the clouds and bathed the entire fort in a pale blue.  Vara
looked at a face from her past, a face that froze her blood, and it was
only with untold effort that she shook off the paralysis that gripped
her throat.

        "Hello Keri, how's tricks?"

        "Good to see you, Vara.  Bring any friends?"  Keri looked at her
intently, then looked to the walls. "Been busy, I see.  Sorry we can't
be more hospitable at the moment, but you've caught us at a bad time.
Much as I would like to share a drink or two and a chat, Omphale has
been too starved of decent reliable information to let you off too
easily."  Keri's eyes returned to Vara's.  "All of the sentries?"

        "Uh huh."

        "Sharp.  Tragic, I could have really used you here.  But, like I
said, our great invincible commander's desires take precedence over
mine.  Drop the sword, nice and easy."

        Keri had changed little over the years.  Muscles once sleek were
better defined perhaps, but the overall effect of a thinly disguised
slaying machine posing as a courtroom dancer was still evident. Graceful
in her movements as a mountain leopard and twice as deadly, faster than
a striking cobra,  Keri was one of the few women alive that Vara was
disinclined to meet in combat, even when things were equal.  As it
was... 

        Vara loosened the swordbelt with reluctance, watching as her
weapon fell to the ground.  With careful grace Keri bent down and picked
it up which keeping the point of her own sword inches from Vara's face.

        "Now. Who else?" purred Keri.

        "Loads. Millions."

        "Wow. I'm impressed.  You really meant to take us all on your
lonesome?  Rubine, check her.  If memory serves, you'll find a knife on
her calf and a garrotte cord on her wrist.  Careful now.  Vara, just
make like a statue or you'll be chewing steel."  Keri's familiar grin
was as frightening as her memory as accurate.  Vara cursed herself for
relying too much on old and trusted favourites as she felt a woman come
from behind and disarm her as Keri had instructed.

        "Knife and cord, as you said, Lieutenant." piped a voice that
Vara concluded was Rubine.  Then the words registered.

        "You're Omphale's lieutenant?" she gasped.

        "Guilty as charged.  Now, let's stroll on over to somewhere more
secure.  Rubine, keep your distance.  Even unarmed, this one's still a
handful. Let's go."

        But before any of the three could move, a shriek erupted from
the stone house.  Vara, alert for any opportunity, had been praying for
such a distraction, but Keri's eyes had not left Vara's face, nor had
the point of her sword.  All three stood still for seconds that seemed
an eternity.

        "Lieutenant...?" whispered Rubine.

        "Keep her here." barked Keri. "If she moves, kill her!" and with
that final command, the lieutenant ran back into the stone building. 

        Vara's eyes swivelled sideways to Rubine, who was looking from
her captive to the stone house and back again.  She appeared young and
inexperienced, uncertain and a little frightened, but held her
broadsword firm and steady, point towards her captive.  As Rubine looked
again to the stone house, Vara stepped back.

        Rubine turned to find her prisoner gone. She looked one way,
then started to look the other when a gloved fist struck the front of
her jaw, stunning her.  Vara stepped forward, intent on laying claim to
the girl's broadsword, but was dismayed to see that even unconscious
Rubine held on to it.  Vital seconds could be wasted prying it from her
fingers, and there was less time to search her body for her other
weapons.  Keri would return in moments.  Vara thought quickly and came
to a decision.

        ***

        Keri hurried down the stairs as quickly as she could.  Damn
Omphale and her nasty habits, she thought.  Annoying distractions like
the placating and containment of madwomen was something she could do
without.  And it could not come at a worse time.  Rubine would probably
be dead by now.  A good kid,  with a promising skill, but no match for
the likes of Vara, even when the latter was unarmed.  Keri hoped it
would  not be so.  But she knew Vara, knew too well what she was capable
of.

        Years ago, Keri had been stationed with Vara in a remote outpost
on the northern frontier.  It was the sort of place that few survived
for long.  Ill-equipped and poorly provisioned, battles against their
foes became almost a daily ritual.  On more that one occasion the two
women had fought back to back for their very lives, surviving on luck
and fate and their trust in one another.  Some bonds can never really be
broken.   

        Yet they were so different.  To Vara it was a job that needed to
be done and nothing else.  No joy in combat, no exultation in violence,
no passion in the dealing of death.  To Keri it was all these things and
more.  It was a vocation, true worship of the gods of war.  Vara may
have been skilled and capable, but Keri lived for battle.  Of the two,
Keri knew she was the better warrior.

        Time and their differences had forced the two women apart,
separating them by both distance and duty.  When Keri met Omphale, it
was as though time had been turned backwards and she had a partner
again, only this time a partner with whom she was completely and utterly
in tune.  And so it was, at first.  Even though Omphale was a renegade
fleeing from a vengeful queen, Keri found much in her new friend to
admire.  At first.  Then Omphale revealed her dread secret, and slowly
things began to sour....

        As Keri reached the doorway she saw Rubine's crumpled form on
the ground, and her blood turned to ice.  Regret stole over her like a
thief.  Such promise, that one.  Forcing herself alert, she walked
unhurried to where Rubine lay, only to be startled as the girl groaned
and started to stir.  Quickly, she knelt down and checked the girl for
wounds, finding none except for the bruise on her jaw.  That's one I owe
you, old friend, she thought.  Pity I can never repay you.

        "Lieutenant, I'm sorry!" sobbed Rubine. "She -" Keri silenced
her with a shake of her shoulders.

        "Listen.  I'll go and check the sentries.  Maybe she left some
of them alive.  You go and wake the others.  We need to find her, and
quickly.  There may be more coming."

        "Yes, Lieutenant!"  Rubine scrambled up and ran off to one of
the hovels, as Keri marched purposefully towards one of the rampart
ladders.  Neither of them noticing the pair of eyes that watched from
nearby.

        ***

        Vara had been lucky in that she had enough time to enter one of
the hovels unseen, but unlucky that she chose a hovel that was occupied
not by a slave but a soldier.  Unarmed as she was, the only way to
silence the woman was to throttle her, and since it is not possible to
throttle someone quickly, the soldier was able to land some heavy blows
to Vara's head and body before she finally died.  Searching the hovel
she found no weapon, which was very odd.  No soldier, especially a
renegade, would sleep without a weapon nearby.  Vara knew that given
time she would find something, but time was the one thing she did not
have.  Carefully peering out of the doorway, she witnessed Keri's
exchange with Rubine, and watch as they ran off.  Quietly, staying in
shadows as much as she could,  Vara made off towards the stone house.

        Something else struck Vara as odd.  The Keri of old would have
clubbed Rubine unconscious again for losing a prisoner.  Perhaps her old
friend was mellowing, but it was doubtful, not that it mattered.  Simply
something else to be pondered at a later date.

        Entering the stone doorway, Vara saw one short corridor open to
a room, sparsely furnished but clean, and no indication as to its
function.  Also no weapons.  Another corridor led to stairs to the upper
floor.  Remembering the scream she had heard earlier, Vara climbed the
stairs uneasily.

        The stairs led to another corridor, with a door at each end.
One looked innocuous enough, but the other claimed her attention fully.
Not only was it barred, but there was a pool of blood seeping out from
under the door.  Moreover, the door itself looked cracked, as though
some great weight had been thrown against it.  Listening intently, Vara
heard nothing, then started to lift the heavy metal rod that kept the
door closed, only to pause.  What, she thought, is this doing here?  A
bar on the outside doesn't keep people out, it keeps people in.  And
this is a poor choice for a prison.

        Fully removing the bar, Vara was nearly crushed as the door fell
off of its hinges.  Looking into the room, she saw that it was certainly
no prison.  It was a bedroom.

        Once it might have been called tastefully decorated, with
iridescent cloths and drapes, as befits the aristocratic eye of a
captain of the Queen's guard.  What Vara saw was a shambles.   The room
had been wrecked.   She saw the broken table.  Then she saw the curtain
that had been ripped from its rail.  Then she saw the guard, lying dead
at her feet with her face horribly broken.  Then she saw the slave girl
in the corner, sobbing silently with an expression of terror etched onto
her face.  Then, finally, she saw the bed, and lying on top of the bed
was the naked form of Omphale. 

        Finally, thought Vara.  The major object of the quest.  Sleeping
like a babe.  Goody.  But the devastation around her brought back the
feeling of unease, of questions not yet asked, much less answered.
The final clue was a faint odour she detected as soon as she stepped
into the room, though it took her a few seconds to place it, and those
few seconds almost cost Vara her life.

        Several years ago she had guarded the caravan of an elderly
woman who claimed to be a spice merchant.  Halfway through their journey
the woman had been forced to reveal her true occupation as a drug
smuggler.  Vara was offered, as payment for her silence in the matter, a
potion that would grant her prowess in battle.  Thanes, the smuggler
called it, very powerful but very expensive, since it did not occur
naturally and had be specially created.  But like all such things,
Thanes was very much a double-edged sword, for while it granted great
strength and resilience, it captured its user in a berserker frenzy that
would not necessarily end once all of one's foes were dead.  Added to
which was the fact that continued usage often resulted in death or
madness, neither of which appealed much to Vara.  In fact, none of it
appealed to Vara, except for the distinctive aroma of the drug, an odour
that she would remember.

        In the seconds that Vara took to recall the caravan trip,
Omphale sat bolt upright, crouched forward and sprang  over the bed rail
full length at the new intruder. Vara noted the blood on Omphale's
hands, feet, loins and mouth, and came belatedly to realise exactly who
had been using Thanes.

        Vara managed to evade Omphale's lunge by a fraction, the nude
woman collapsing full length on the floor but on her feet again a second
later.  Taking stock of her situation, Vara knew she was in serious
trouble;  unarmed against a woman with the strength of ten, who would
not even feel impacts strong enough to break bone.  Omphale's eyes shone
with a bestial ferocity, devoid of rational thought, only the most
primal of instincts mirrored in her face.  Vara dodged as Omphale
attacked her again, but in doing so tripped and fell heavily against
something solid.  Her left lower ribs erupted in pain.

        Wonderful, thought Vara, I'm hurt and she hasn't touched me yet.
Not that I should bother too much.  If she get hold of me she'll rip my
head off like a leaf from a tree.

        Vara rolled away as Omphale brought a foot smashing down,
splintering floorboards, in the space that Vara had occupied scant
moments before.  Vara knew that Omphale was both stronger and faster
that she was.  In the end, Omphale would catch her, and then it would be
over.  What Vara needed was a weapon, something, anything to even things
up, if only a little.

        Her hand alighted on a red rope.  It was flimsy, decorative, in
all likelihood not very strong, similar in colour to the curtain that
lay on the floor.  But it might serve a purpose beyond the simply
aesthetic.  Vara pulled it with her as she jumped up to escape Omphale's
relentless assault, and as she stepped back her attacker stumbled.  A
brief pause only, but it served Vara well in allowing her time to
formulate a plan.  As Omphale faced her again, she snapped the red rope
like a whip into the woman's face, and was richly rewarded to see her
jump back with a startled cry.  It had not hurt her, very little could,
in her current state, but it had surprised her.  So now Vara had a
weapon of a sort, but she needed something else.  Then she noticed the
bed and the posts at its foot, and the rail that ran between them above
the mattress.

        There was about a thirteen inch gap between the mattress and the
rail, which worked rather nicely with what Vara was planning.  A
dangerous plan, but the only one that offered any chance of success at
this stage.  As Omphale charged her, snarling like a wild beast, Vara
used up much of her remaining strength jumping over her and onto the
bed.  She turned, crouching low to face Omphale from between the
mattress and the rail, and whistled.  In her hands one end of the rope
was finally fashioned into a makeshift noose.  Vara prayed that the
madwoman would be obliging enough to jump into her hastily fashioned
trap.

        Omphale dove towards the face before her, and Vara very nearly
left it too late too late to escape.  But timing was everything, and
Vara needed this to work first time because she feared she may not have
the energy for a second attempt.  As it was, Omphale landed exactly
where Vara wanted her, with her upper torso between the mattress and the
rail, just as Vara jumped over the rail.  More importantly, Vara's noose
was now about Omphale's neck.  As the mercenary landed on the floor and
pulled on the rope, the deranged captain was thoroughly trapped.  Her
hips and abdomen were pressed against the bed, her back arched over the
rail, and her throat strangled by the rope.  Her hands waved frantically
and ineffectually, since Vara was well beyond their reach.  

        Vara knew that a rational foe would escape in short order, but
she was depending on Omphale's purely instinctive and unthinking state.
With her inhuman strength, the woman was capable reaching behind her and
pulling hard enough on the rope to send Vara flying across the room, or
to twist her torso enough to escape being pinned by the bed, but no such
thoughts occurred to Omphale.  Thanes was indeed a double-edged sword,
and she was being cut by the wrong side.

        Eventually Omphale's struggles became less frantic, though Vara
maintained her firm grip on the rope.  The mercenary had no intention of
getting close to her foe until she was completely unconscious.  The
orders had requested, not demanded, that Omphale be taken alive.
Miochelle was not so stupid as to set impossible conditions.  Still,
those who managed to comply with her requests often discovered that the
Queen could be most generous when she chose.

         When Omphale went limp, Vara let go of the rope.  The captain
was not, while under the influence of Thanes, capable of deception.
Omphale was unconscious, but Vara felt little better.  The battle with
the captain, on top of her earlier fights, had left her in a state of
exhaustion.  And Vara knew that there were still soldiers alive and
awake in the fort.  Getting out was unlikely to be as easy as getting in
had been.

        Walking around the bed, Vara saw an object on the floor that
made her laugh out loud.  It was perhaps a little too long, certainly
thinner than the sort she was used to, but a sword is always welcome to
the unarmed soldier.  She tested its balance and found it wanting, but
it was better than nothing.  No scabbard could be seen, but Vara would
have been little disposed to sheathing her new sword in any case, since
she would most likely be using it soon.

        "Are you going to kill her?"

        Vara whirled around at the sound of the voice.  She had
forgotten the young slave girl, who had witnessed the entire fight.  Her
face was wet with tears, but her eyes were wide with awe.  She could not
have been more than ten years old.

        "She killed the guard. Just.... crushed her head.  And then the
other woman came up and put the bar on the door,  shutting me up in here
with..  her."

        Vara said nothing.  She had other things to consider.  Keri,
Rubine and the gods alone know how many other soldiers were searching
for her, and evading Keri in particular would be difficult at the best
of times.  Encumbered with the unconscious captain, it would be
impossible.

        But instead of considering a plan of action, Vara found herself
musing on the situation she had found.   Why was Omphale using Thanes in
her bedroom?  She remembered the scream during her confrontation with
Keri.  If that tied in with what the girl said, then the captain must
have taken the drug while Vara was killing the sentries.  The woman
could have hardly known she was coming.

        There was only one other explanation that Vara could think of.
Omphale was addicted to Thanes. Someone had introduced it to her during
one of the great campaigns, and she had simply kept using it.  Glorious
victories had resulted, but bought at a terrible price.  If Omphale had
a physical or psychological need for Thanes at regular intervals, it
would explain much.  Miochelle would not tolerate such a dependence in
one of her key officers, but rather than suffer the disgrace of being
stripped of her rank, the fiercely proud captain became a renegade,
along with her most loyal comrades. 

        Vara wondered if any of the others knew.  Probably not at first,
though those closest to her could not help but find out.  Some may still
not know.  Keri knows, she thought, since it explains her recruitment
and promotion in this sorry band.  Keri has the martial skills that even
Omphale could not help but admire, the organisational abilities needed
to turn an unruly and directionless mob into a military unit, and the
cunning required to help an addict keep her habit from general
knowledge.  Worst of all, Keri would have engineered a civil war to
appease her own lusts for battle.  Vara felt a pang of sympathy for the
woman sprawled on the bed, having been turned from a hero to an drug-
addicted puppet, and hoped very much that it was not Keri who had first
given Thanes to Omphale.  If it was, then Vara would show her former
friend no mercy whatsoever.

        "Someone's coming!" cried the girl. The sound of numerous
footsteps echoed from outside the bedroom.  Vara felt too weary to move,
so she stood where she was, sword in hand.

        Moments later, five women burst through the open doorway into
the bedroom, coming to an abrupt halt in front of Vara.  In the middle
of them was Rubine, and beside her was Keri.

        "Hello again." said Vara.

        "You really should have made your escape while you could,"
crowed Keri, "but now..."

         "Captain!" cried Rubine, staring in horror at the form on the
bed. "Is she..?"

        "Unconscious." said Vara flatly.

        "Lucky. She'd have ripped you apart if she'd woken up." noted
Keri grinning.

        "She tried." said Vara.

        "Rubbish!"

        "It's true!" cried the slave girl, who had gone unnoticed until
that point. "She beat fair with her bare hands!"

        Not quite, thought Vara, but thanks for the support.  Then she
had an idea.

        "Fight fire with fire, I always say." she whispered.  Both Keri
and Rubine blanched, and two of the other three took a step back.  "Oh!
You all know about the Thanes, then?"

        "We five do," said Keri slowly, "you've already dealt with those
that didn't.  I don't believe you.  You're too lucid to be on it.  We
know what it does to her.", indicating the recumbent captain. 

        Vara laughed viciously.  "Miochelle tells me this stuff is so
new it's not on the market yet.  Berserker strength without the madness.
Seemed tailor-made for this little job.  Feels good too."

        "You're lying!" shouted Keri. Vara saw that two of the other
soldiers looked visibly frightened.

        "No, she's not." whispered Rubine. "Look at the bruises on her
face.  She didn't have them when we saw her last."

        Vara almost laughed again.  She had forgotten the injuries from
the tussle with the unknown woman she strangled in the hovel.  Now they
served to support her wild story.

        "It's a trick, I tell you!  Look, we can take her easily.  It's
five against one!"  Keri raised her sword, ready to do battle.

        "Five against two!" countered the slave girl, brandishing a
broken chair leg.

        "Five against one and a half." drawled Keri. "Vara, where did
you pick up this toothpick?  Is she the rest of your army?"

        "With the new, improved berserker drug I AM an army. Now drop
your weapons or I'll butcher the lot of you."  Vara adopted her most
bestial expression and menacing pose.

        Four swords hit the floor simultaneously.  Only Vara and Keri
remained armed.

        "You gutless idiots." sighed Keri.  She considered for a moment,
then squared her shoulders.  "No matter.  I'll prove to you she's lying.
Stand clear."

        Rubine gently placed her hand on Keri's wrist, and another
soldier held her shoulder.  Keri sighed again, paused, then dropped her
sword.

        Vara turned to the young slave.  "You.  Toothpick.  Get some
rope and bind them."

        ***

        In the morning, a strange procession made its way out of the
fort.  At its head was Vara, mounted on a dapple grey roan with the
still naked but bound form of the renegade captain slung before her.
Several other horses followed, each bearing either a corpse or a bound
captive.  Several slaves followed on foot.  And at the rear was a young
girl, not more than ten years old, wearing purloined armour much too big
for her, waving a short sword as though it was the finest thing she had
ever owned.  
        
        ***

        Keri was rudely awakened from a deep sleep by someone roughly
picking her up and carrying her over their shoulder.  Since she was
still bound she decided not to struggle, and crying out was impossible
after Vara had gagged her for continually haranguing her soldiers for
cowardice.  Besides, she was curious.

        Some distance from the makeshift camp, Vara set her load down on
the ground.  Their little conference could proceed unobserved and
unheard.   Untying the gag from Keri's mouth, she signalled her former
friend to keep her voice low.  "I want answers." she stated plainly.

        "Like what?" asked Keri laconically.

        "How did you get involved with this mob?"

        "That?!  It was quite easy, really.  Omphale was already fraying
at the edges when I first met her, but she was still magnificent.
Shame.  I would have liked to have seen her in real battle, back in the
glory days, although even against the peasants she was still a sight to
behold.  Apparently, she was a custom -made killing machine even before
the Thanes."

        "Get on with it."

        "Sorry.  Not much to tell.  They were falling apart, really.
Omphale had accidentally mangled her previous second-in-command and was
in dire need of a replacement.  She wanted to keep the truth from as
many of her troops as possible, but it was getting more and more
difficult.  Enter me.  Things turned around, then.  Omphale the great
shining warrior hero figurehead, wronged by a jealous queen, and me the
brains and organiser.  Match made by the gods.  Then you strolled in."

        "And the Thanes?"

        "Nothing to do with me.  Beloved Captain made off with a
plentiful supply when she absconded from the royal barracks.  Why?
Thinking of starting up in the trade yourself?  I knew you were bluffing
about taking it, improved or not.  Not you at all."

        "So you didn't get her started on it?"

        "What?!!  No!!  How could you think that?!"  Keri seemed so
aghast at the idea that Vara instantly believed her.

        "If I could get my hands on the bitch that did it, I'd make her
pay, I assure you.  No, I never knew Omphale before the Thanes, but back
then she must have been quite a woman.  Better than either of us.  In
fact, I bet that Miochelle probably had a hand in it.  Charismatic war
heroes are useful in wartime but a definite threat when the fighting
stops."

        Vara considered that.  It made sense.  But it did not change
things.

        "So, you going to kill me now?" asked Keri.

        "I suppose I'd better.  Miochelle will probably let the foot
soldiers off with several lashings, but you and Omphale are going to get
some serious attention."
        
        "Yeah. Be a pal and make it quick, eh?"  Even facing imminent
death Keri still sounded amiable.

        "Hold still."  Vara unbuckled her knife. Keri, with little else
to do, closed her eyes.

        Seconds later, Keri opened her eyes, surprised that she was
still alive, and more surprised to find her hands free.  "What in the
name of the five hells are you doing?  Hey, you want to fight first?"

        "Get up and go, you stupid bitch.  Before I change my mind."

        "You're letting me go?!  Miochelle won't be pleased."

        "Miochelle won't know.  She gets her main prize.  I'll say you
escaped or something.   Now scat."

        Keri took a deep breath.  "I want Rubine."

        "What?!" Vara hissed.

        "Rubine.  Good kid.  Shows promise.  Besides,  I don't want her
lashed."

        Vara could scarcely believe it.  Moments ago Keri was ready to
die, and now she was demanding a partner in her escape.  "Wait here."
she ordered, then loped back to the camp.  Minutes later she returned
with a frightened figure over her shoulder.

        Keri untied Rubine's bonds and helped her stand.  The young
woman appeared petrified.  Evidently whatever Vara had said to her to
keep her quiet was thoroughly effective.

        "I don't suppose you can spare a knife?" asked Keri.

        "I don't suppose I can.  Don't push your luck." Vara's patience
was wearing thin, but she could not fail to be impressed with Keri's
audacity.

        "Lieutenant, what -" began Rubine.

        "I'll explain later.  Let's go."  Keri turned to Vara.  "Want to
come with us?"

        "No."

        "Shame.  Vara and Keri.  Nice ring to it, I always said.
Remember?"

        "That was then. This is now.  Go before I kill you."

        "OK.  If you ever want to find me, just look for some country
that simultaneously declares war on all its neighbours.  Odds are I'll
be thereabouts."

        Keri disappeared into the night, closely followed by Rubine.
Vara sighed.  Now she could relax.

        "You know," said a voice on the wind, "you didn't have to do
this."

        Vara looked up at the night sky. "True.  You may be the better
warrior, Keri, but I'm the better woman."  


Copyright (c) Bomur 1998


-- 
Bomur
"Living well is the best revenge"
                                       - Proverb