030 - A Few More Straight Answers

The next morning, Caspian cast a scrying spell to locate Roxanne specifically. Steven did not mention yet, but he had once been an avid reader of fantasy, starting with Tolkien, moving through much of the rest of the published library as it then existed and interested him. The falling out he had with the SCA had closed that chapter. As Caspian worked on his pan of salt water, he responded that he had a clear image, and had found Roxanne: she was in a fortress-structure, in a city in the kingdom west, whose boarder they were to cross before leaving the forest, if they had not passed it already. After cleaning and packing up, the two men started off. Caspian encouraged Steven to practice his sword work as they travel, and know that this will somehow work out for the best.

Steven was still irritable, but he found it easier to marshal his senses and focus on the job at hand. Now he had more information, if the source was to be trusted.

They left the forest and entered the highland farmlands that surrounded the next village. Caspian could tell that Steven was upset again, and was waiting for him to express himself. He was getting a bit irritated himself at that point. Steven was continually walking what felt like a half step too close or several too far, varying his pace as his thoughts affected his mood. Then he stopped in the middle of the road as they past a cornfield nearly ready for planting.

“Caspian. I want a straight answer.”

Steven had found an instinctive way of hitting just the right tone to get Caspian’s nerves. He stopped but did not turn to face him.

“You want.” Caspian let his irritation loose with that phrase, but spoke slowly to keep it in check. He could sense mana start to swirl around them, like a light breeze. “That is about all I have heard out of you for the last week. Don’t you ever think of anything besides what you want?”

Steven all but snarled back, waving his hands about to emphasize his words, unaware of any mana buildup, just that he was starting to proverbially see red. “Yes, I do. I think of my children being somewhere that God only knows. Of my wife being somewhere else. All of them in jeopardy. Of my business in trouble without me there to solve the problems. Of…”

Caspian rounded on him at that point, just missing the top of Steven’s head with his staff. Cyrril complained as he dug in to keep from being thrown off.

“You are still thinking only of what you want. What about the farmers we have been passing? The merchants and their businesses? Do you think of them? Do you have any idea what will happen to them it we do not get your kids back into your hands?” Caspian continued, moderating his tone and speed, trying not to loose control.

Steven stepped up to argue. “How can I?” He was yelling now. “You won’t tell me anything. I have no idea what makes my kids special to whoever has them. I don’t know that my problems affect these farmers. You seem to, but have refused to let me in on the secret, instead keeping the whole world on your shoulders.”

This statement could not have hurt more if it had been a sword running Caspian through, wounding him with its truth. He took a step back, and a deep breath.

Cyrril was picking up on the agitation, and if Caspian was not careful, would make it worse.

“All right. Try this.” Caspian took a breath. “The people who have your kids are the retainers of the dominant evil rulers in that part of this world. They want to have your kids raised to become purely evil. Then turn them loose to conquer as far as they can. They don’t care what this means to you, or what it will mean to that farmer, or anybody. And right now you are acting the same way.” Caspian pointed out into the cornfield as he spoke.

“Well, Atlas, I am, am I?”

“Yes. And you’re irritating me greatly.”

“Well gee. I wouldn’t be acting this way if you would just tell me what’s going on.”

They stood almost nose to nose, Steven most of a head taller, in a ridiculous shouting contest.

“Right now we are going to get your wife, before continuing after your kids.”

“Yeah. Right. So where are we going?”

“To the capitol. I don’t remember the name just now.”

“What will we have to do to get there?”

“Walk. And not kill each other.”

“And after that?”

“Figure out how to get your wife back.”

Both of them were too disciplined to throw the first blow. But they also were to the point of needing a physical release, or this would not end. All through the argument Cyrril had been hissing and spitting in tune to Caspian; his fight-or-flight was at a much baser level than either of the men. Cyrril took the first swing, and swatted at Steven.

Steven slapped Cyrril off Caspian’s shoulder, and into the ditch at the side of the road. That set Caspian off. The staff almost moved on its own, right into Steven’s chest knocking his wind out and him down.

Steven lashed out and kicked Caspian’s feet out, he went down. They both got to their feet, already covered in road dust.

Steven was shrugging off his pack, crossbow, and great coat, as he drew in more air. He threw them as one pile to land almost on top of Cyrril as they cleared the ditch. The little beast did not see them coming and Steven was not looking where he was tossing. Unburdened, he drew his sword.

Caspian simply adjusted his grip and started in on him with the staff.

They both stopped for a moment, looking at each other to see if they were going to commit to this. Then they closed in a clash of staff and sword, fists, arms, legs, and bodies. The dust up could not have gone very long.

When it was done Caspian had a few more nicks in his staff, and a bloody mouth and nose. He also needed a new outer cloak, or to repair a slash the length of his arm. Steven was limping and cradling a sore shoulder

Cyrril, for his part, was the most upset having landed in an irrigation ditch full of mud.

Steven and Caspian kept their silence until nightfall. As they sat by the campfire, Caspian mended his cloak, and thought about what he knew and did not know about their situation and the lands they were traveling through, and how much he could tell Steven, and how to say it. He finally spoke.

“Steven. I’m not used to having traveling companions. You are not used to this land. I have to learn to share my information. You need to learn to better keep an even temper. So here is where things sit. You need some more experience with this world, and to continue to change your costume to look more like a native. I have more information to share, but need to check with some sources first, to get it right. We also need to go retrieve Roxanne. From there we can get on with retrieving your kids. They will all be safe enough until we can get to them.”

“How do you know that?”

Caspian held up the small amulets he had made some days before.

“Aside from this, I know because of what my sources told about what is wanted with your kids. To get them, you and Roxanne need to be together, at least in spirit. As for Roxanne currently, last I knew The King here is as good a king as anybody can expect. I remember something about a habit of looking for new recruits for his harem. Once he learns that she is already married, he won’t touch her. More so they will be expecting us to come and get her.”

“I look forward to meeting these sources of yours. Maybe they can give me some comfort about my kids.”

They sat and watched the fire for a while. Then Steven spoke up. For the first time in a while he was asking questions about this world, rather than about their plight.

“Something happened while we were fighting. Normally, when a person’s heart rate goes up the motor controls get dull, and perceptions focus to the exclusion of the peripheral. I felt like the opposite happened for a few moments. Like I could sense everything, and see your moves before they happened, but not always.”

“You were tuning in to the mana of this world.”

“That sounds like ‘the force’.”

“Similar idea; and it is found in virtually every civilization, in their history and literature. The summary is this: As you focus yourself, you become more effective and aware of what the energy of the world is trying to tell you. You eventually get to the point where you open up to direct unfiltered input from the world around you. You can then use this power to increase your natural abilities. Like anything, the more you do it, the better you get.”

“I think I have experienced this before, shooting. You say it has something to do with this mana? Does that mean that I am going to go into a fugue like that the more I fight?”

“Something like that, if you are open to it. You need not worry about casting magic about; that is an inborn talent, and none native to your world are able to use it. Does all this worry you?

“I’m not sure.”

“This world is saturated with mana – with life energy. Eventually everyone becomes what he or she thinks they are. The natives are trained from their infancy to be who they are, just like anywhere else. As a visitor, you are bound to experience some strange things. Tell me, what do you see yourself as, not just your costume, but your person?”

“A protector, a former Marine officer. And a businessman. A father and Husband.”

“In time you will be able to draw on the magic of this world to enhance those rolls. Not in any way you can conceive of now, but you will,” Caspian assured Steven.

031 - Steven’s Call To Compassion

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 13

OODA-Orient: Cultural Traditions, Genetic Heritage, Previous Experience, Analysis & Synthesis, New Information. What kind of culture is this that has such traditions?

Caspian and Steven had passed several highland farms and ranches, and were now approaching the central village of this area, walking on its main road. As they passed a stand of trees, Steven noticed a young woman tied to a stake in the ground. Caspian also noticed, but then passed on. Steven turned aside and knelt to look at her. She was out cold, or asleep, using most of the rope for a pillow. She was a young woman, and small, probably less than 5 foot by Steven’s reckoning. She wore a leather shirt, leather girdle, home-spun trousers, and leather boots. Her hair was very dark brown, with some sun streaks in it, and tied back with a kerchief. Her plain features were tanned, but showing a burn right now.

She had the rope tied around her left ankle, the other end secured to a stake in the ground. The circle inscribed by the length of rope included a small bush off the side of the trail, but was otherwise barren of growth and shade. Farther out was the edge of the clearing, allowing some shade, but not in the middle. The road Caspian and Steven traveled passed by, but did not cross the circle.

Steven moved to free the woman.

“You don’t want to do that,” Caspian warned.

“Why?” Steven had his knife out, to cut the rope at her ankle.

“She is here for punishment. If she really wanted to leave, she could have. She is wearing her own knife.”

“Leaving her here to die of thirst is not punishment. It’s torture.”

Steven laid her out. He then poured a little water into her mouth. After a bit, she stirred, but did not awake.

“I guess she is from this village?”

“Most likely, or the surrounding farms.” Caspian just stood by, not trying to help a wit. “And now that you have cut her loose, and began to care for her, you have just created a bit of trouble for us.”

Caspian sighed, shrugged, and then turned to inspect the trees. He then pulled his bush knife from his belt, and lopped two branches from the trees. Both were about half again as long as he was tall. Next, he lopped most of the smaller branches off these, leaving the few on one side to form a bit of a bed.

Steven pulled out his blankets, and laid the largest one out. He then put the branches across it with their few remaining limbs in the middle. The blanket was then folded over the branches to form a bed. Steven then laid the young woman on it, and wrapped the blanket the rest of the way around, adding his second blanket to the roll, to hold her in. The branches extended easily beyond either end.

“Take the other end, and we will be off.” Steven stood at the girl’s head, ready to pick up the short end of the makeshift stretcher.

“No. She is your problem. Those are long enough to drag. You just need a bit of a yoke.” Caspian pulled a length of leather strap from his bag, and handed it to Steven.

“I don’t believe you. You would just leave her here to die?” Steven was incredulous.

“This is not our concern. She was here for a reason. Getting involved like this will only make things worse. And I won’t do it.”

Steven took the leather strap, measured it, and tied it into a loop that ran over his shoulders, and down by either hand. He then knelt and put the loops around the ends of the branches. Lifting the end up, he stood, being sure that the woman did not slide out.

“Fine. But I thought you helped those in need.” Steven shifted the strap to balance the load, still looking accusingly at Caspian. “Let’s get going.”

Steven then set out, walking past Caspian, dragging the travois behind him. He did not have to take it far.

They passed one more meadow and were at the edge of a farming village. Steven dragged his burden to what appeared to be the town square. Here he lay her back down and was accosted by what passed for local law enforcement, who had followed from a shop at the edge of town.

“Who are you, and why are you bringing her here?” Steven looked the man over. He was a head and a bit shorter, but considerably thicker than Steven; his garb seemed to Steven to denote that of a smith. His face looked to be perpetually sunburned, with a liberal application of ash and slag rubbed in, which also coated his leather apron. His soot covered hair was scraggly and long, tied back by something that only kept about 3/4ths of it back. The rest just floated about his head.

Steven remembered his last encounter with any police. This guy might not be so patient. “My name is Steven. I was traveling in this direction, when I found her tied to a stake in the ground. She needs healing.”

The smith did not even look at her. “Did she ask you to do this?”

Steven shook his head. “No. She has not aroused since I first found her. If she does not get help soon, she could die.”

The smith continued to look unconcerned. “If that is what she chooses.”

Now Steven was annoyed. “What happened to human decency? Doesn’t anybody care for anybody here?”

Caspian stepped in. “Steven, I tried to tell you. She was there for a reason. None of these people were helping her there, they won’t help you here.”

The smith spoke again. “If you help her, she becomes your responsibility. As a stranger I can give you this much. Put her back, or keep her.” He folded his arms, and puffed his chest out at Steven.

Steven looked around, seeing that several passers-by had stopped to watch and see. In passing he realized again that he was taller than everybody, by a good margin.

“You’re saying that just by trying to get her help, she becomes my responsibility. How’s that?” Steven was increasingly incredulous.

The smith continued his huff. “She was out there as punishment. If you are going to interfere with that, she becomes your responsibility. Take her with you, or put her back.”

Steven looked around, considering what to do. He looked at Caspian, but got no help there. He looked around, and finally saw one person looking more than impassive. A woman with a basket of shopping in her hands, looking concerned. The woman caught Steven looking at her, and abruptly turned and walked away. That settled it for him.

“Get me your healer.”

The smith shrugged. Then turned and walked away.

“Caspian, do you know anything that could help?”

“No. That is not my kind of magic. But I don’t think she needs magic. Just some proper care and food.” Caspian shrugged his shoulders.

Steven blew out a big breath, and sat down. “If we leave her here?”

“She is yours now. If you leave her here, they will ignore her, and she will die.”

“Wonderful. So now I have to see to her while traveling to find Rox.” Steven stood up. “Did you see the woman with the basket?”

“Yes. You noticed that she seemed to be the only person concerned. Cyrril is following her right now. Probably the girl’s mother,” Caspian speculated.

Steven looked where she went. “Let’s go see if she will help.”

He turned to pick up the end of the travois, when a large, grubby, middle aged man got Steven’s attention. This man was all but stomping at them.

Caspian seemed to notice him at the same time as Steven. “Who is this?”

Steven put the travois down as the man approached. The man swung at Steven, who blocked it without thinking and slugged the man dropping him to the ground where he stood.

Steven stepped away, careful of the travois. “What was that about?”

Caspian just stood by, watching curiously, and then knelt down next to the girl.

The grubby man got back to his feet. “I won’t let you have her. She’s mine.”

Steven cocked his head. At another time he might have found a way to relieve himself of this, but that did not seem right, now. “Oh, really? Then why weren’t you seeing to her needs? I found her out there nearly ready to die.”

The girl’s weak voice answered Steven’s question. “I will not accept his help. I will not have him.”

“That is not for you to decide. Your father and I settled the matter.” The man tried to move to lay hands on her.

Steven just stood in his way. “It seems to me that she already made her decision, and that is the one that matters. Otherwise, she would not have been where I found her. I am a stranger here. But I gather that she is my responsibility now.” Steven did his best to look as imperious as he could, summoning all his Marine Pride, standing to full height and stature.

The grubby man shrunk a bit, but was not ready to give up the issue. “She has no say in the matter. This was already settled between her father and me. She is my wife now.” He turned his attention to her. “You had better learn that. That is why you were out there.”

Steven could hear Caspian quietly chanting over the girl. But his primary attention was on this thug, and how to end this situation. Then a thought whispered to him. “Was the union consummated?”

This caught the grubby man off guard. “What?”

Steven knew that he had found a crack. Now to exploit it. “Have you slept with her? Have you been naked with her, and had her?”

Steven had no idea what the local euphemism was, but his question seemed to get across, and kick his opponent where it counted. The man turned red with anger, and slipped into apoplexy.

She answered the question, with a laugh that seemed to cut deeper into the man’s ego than anything Steven could do.

“Well, then. Since I am the one currently caring for her, and you being refused of her, I don’t think you have any claim. Now stand aside, before you get hurt.” Steven had softened his voice, to the condescending tone used to address one who was not bright enough to understand anything more.

Like a bubbling mud pot, the man finally boiled over and again tried to attack Steven. But the fight was over before it began. In three swift motions Steven had him on the ground, gasping for air and grasping between his legs in a private world of hurt.

At that, Steven rolled him over to face the other way.

Caspian had stood back up, and looked a bit amused by what happened. Steven looked down at the girl. Her dark eyes looked up at him in gratitude, and she managed a week smile.

Steven then picked up the end of the travois, and dragged it out of the square. Caspian directed them to where Cyrril was, at the house of the girl’s family. Her father was not home, but her mother was, and had been the woman with the basket. She quickly and graciously provided Steven with some food, herbs, and medicines and the girl’s things including a bedroll, shoulder bag and rucksack. Caspian, being the bag holder, repaid the woman, and they were on their way before more trouble could find them.

That night, when they finally stopped for camp, Steven’s arms and shoulders were quite sore. The girl had drifted at the edge of awake much of the time, but not really into coherence. Caspian and Steven made camp, and put together a soup rich with the herbs from the mother. The girl drank most of the broth, and then collapsed into real sleep.

Steven realized that he did not yet know her name, as he went to sleep.

032 - Starting To Make A Difference

The next morning as Steven and Caspian put breakfast together, the girl was ravenously thirsty, a bit week and unsteady, and coherent enough to only begin to communicate. Her name was Annabelle. But she liked to be called Abey.

Annabelle grew up the daughter of a herds-man/farmer, named Criga, outside of this village, Beowa. She had plenty of skills both domestically and as a herder/wrangler, and was quite able to take care of herself. She also wanted to marry for love, or at least not to marry the brute that she was given to.

Steven figured she would be five foot nothing tall when full grown in a year or so. Initially her exposed skin was sunburned, but she got over this over the next week, and had a deep farmer tan. The rest of her skin was pale, by local standards. She had plain features, with sharp dark brown eyes, and kept her medium length hair tied in a tail behind with a leather thong. To Steven’s surprise, once she had her strength back, she was almost as strong as he was.

*          *          *

On part of the palace roof next to the catch basin for a water tank, Rox found a private area to do some sunbathing. The Sorceress found Rox there at lunchtime the day after taking all the magic off of her.

“What are you doing up here, Student?”

Rox looked up. “I am trying to get some color back into my skin. Since you removed that spell, I have been pasty white.”

The Sorceress looked her over, and looked around even looking up. Then took the spare blanket and laid it out, removed her dress and folded it into a pillow and lay down a short distance from Rox.

Rox settled her head back. “What are you doing here, My Lady?”

“I’m hiding out from messengers from The King.”

After a few moments, Roxanne began asking about The King and his harem. Both women were naked lying on blankets; the Sorceress out of curiosity, Rox to try to get some color back into her now very pale skin. Rox remembered about the butt-naked pictures as they talked, but did not mention it.

The Queen and The Sorceress were friends as children, until schooling took them in different directions. Then when The Queen was married, it was a political marriage. The King and Queen did come to love each other, after a manner, but at that time neither was fully committed to the intimacies of the relationship. Soon, The King’s eye began to wander. The Queen being an excellent administrator was quick to see that this matter was taken in hand, before things got out of control. She contacted her old friend, The Sorceress, and after some bargaining, appointed her head of the harem, by appointment of The King.

The two fold problem then came that he did not return to a sexual partner once he took a new one; and The Queen had not provided an heir. The Sorceress had been made a landed Duchess, and each of the concubines was made an unlanded Countess, and a few had been put aside and cared for once pregnant, but as yet, there was no Prince to assume the throne.

Also The Queen was feeling lonely in her position. He can bed a woman anytime he wants, but she has slept alone for many years. Because of her position, she cannot take another man to her bed.

At this moment The Queen was on the last of a diplomatic trip, and The King was about ready to trade up.

Roxanne thought a moment “Why not just withdraw the harem, leaving him with just The Queen to bed?”

“We can’t do that. He would strip us of our living and our support. Even now I am the only one with land, and it’s so far away I can’t go prove it without permanently leaving the palace.” The Sorceress bristled slightly at Roxanne’s familiarity, omitting her honorific.

“So get all of his concubines on your side first. Then get his most loyal and trusted cabinet members on your side, and approach him. But you will also need The Queen on your side. Tell him that this is State Business. That he must have an heir by The Queen.” Rox continued, not even thinking about honorific titles. To her this was woman to woman.

“But….”

“But what?”

“Nobody has ever stood up to him like this.”

“So prepare him carefully, and then stand up to him.”

“He does not like children.”

Roxanne remembered this argument from the early part of her own marriage. “Let me guess. ‘They are sloppy, noisy, smelly, and inconvenient.’”

“That’s about it.” The Sorceress had to pause to remember this was a mother of two who was telling her this.

“Steven was the same way. Until I was showing with Diana.” Rox’s hands hovered over her belly for a moment. “Is The Queen prohibited from entering his presence?”

“No…” The Sorceress was beginning to understand.

“As Steven watched the pregnancy progress he became more solicitous. Then when Diana was born he slowly became a doting father. He soon took over the late night feedings. Just enjoying holding his daughter. Steven’s only disappointment with Diana was that she was not a son. Once Alex was born, he mellowed even more.”

Rox continued. “So take and withdraw the harem, leaving him only The Queen. And encourage them to be husband and wife, rather than just King and Queen. And have him be part of the pregnancy.”

“And if she is infertile?”

“You will figure something out. Unless I miss my observation, you really are not that much older than I am. I guess that The Queen is about your same age. At least on my world, women our age are still able to get pregnant.” Rox shook her head. She had enough confidence from the few weeks she had been here that she figured The Sorceress, and The Queen, would figure something out.

“I suppose I better start by circulating the idea that an heir better soon come, if it is to be trained while The King is young enough to train one. Then build from there… Yes, it can be done. Carefully.” The Sorceress’s thought drifted to what for her was an otherwise tedious subject: politics.

*          *          *

They were two days down the trail. Abey was rapidly regaining strength. Her body had not rejected any food, but was very dehydrated and starting toward malnourishment. With the steady intake of water and food she was returning to normal. Already her features were softening and filling back out; and she was soundly sleeping. Until she could walk, she rode in the travois that had been made. Steven had substituted her bedroll for his, covering her with a homespun cloak sent with her, as he dragged her along. Caspian had helped Steven rig a usable carry harness from some cord that Steven had in his bag.

Abey had changed to a homespun long sleeve shirt, and a leather vest cut utilitarian-generous. She also changed to a woolen skirt, from the homespun trousers. She kept her medium high leather boot moccasins. Her leather belt now had a few pouches and things tied to it, including the utility knife. She also had her rucksack and shoulder bag, and a water skin which had been with the food in the shoulder bag. Among all this are a few heirlooms from her mother.

This third day she had been lucid when she awoke, and alert most of the time, but still too weak to move far under her own power, mostly to where she could relieve herself without embarrassing the two men she now kept company with. Now Abey was sitting up on her own, the travois leaning against a nearby tree. Steven and Caspian were setting up camp. She was unabashedly telling her own story, as they worked. Abey was also rummaging through one of her two sacks, taking stock, and clearly irritated not to be finding something.

Abey moved the things inside the sack around. “I would just as soon the dirty skut run me through, as get between my legs.”

“Then you don’t like the man?” Steven was cutting down a branch for the fire, adding to a growing pile.

Abey stopped at this, and put her bag down off her lap. “Calling him a man is being generous. More than he disserves. On his farm, the men are proud, and the animals are nervous. The scum had at every unmarried girl in town. The greedy wretch wouldn’t consider marrying any of them. Their dowries weren’t large enough. I was one of the few who would stand up to him in his advances. Finally he pestered my father enough, and got the dowry raised up enough to arrange to get me. But I would not have him. So I was put out where you found me. Every time he came to help or release me, I would fight him off, or get loose and return. Better to die tied to a stake, than go to his bed.”

Steven remembered a few men like that from when he had been in the Corps. Most of them had been run out. The rest reformed and shaped up. A few of these had been beat into shape, a time or two.

Caspian brought in one more branch to be cut down, and had two critters in hand to cook for dinner. The branch was put by the pile, and Caspian sat down opposite Steven. He had eviscerated the critters elsewhere. So all he did here was quickly and efficiently skin them, and put them on some branches over the fire to roast.

Steven had arranged the fire ring with stones around a shallow bowl in the ground, and two branches set up to hold the food. The dirt was set aside to be used to cover the fire pit before they left.

Abey finished her inventory, and seemed to give a resigned shrug as her bags were put away. She then began to braid her hair on her left side into small, tight braids that started at her side burns.

The next day Abey walked on her own, through lunch time. She continued to work at making tiny braids in her left side hair until she had six in front of her ear. They did not cover much ground, due to her weakness, but she was determined to haul her own weight. Steven carried her shoulder bag and Caspian her rucksack. As they ate, and she rested, they considered whether to try to go on carrying her somehow. They tried this for a while, Steven carrying Abey on his back, Caspian carrying her bags. Steven decided that she was not a lot bigger than Diana or Alex, for being as old as the two combined. He carried her for a few miles, but it wore too hard on Steven, and they soon stopped for the day.

As Abey got her strength back, she helped as she could. She could skin and clean critters and birds faster than Caspian, doing a better job in the process. She was able to direct them around a part of the area that saved them a day of retracing their steps due to a destroyed section of trail.

Abey also began to repair Steven’s things, while they were not moving. First, she repaired a tear in his spare trousers, fixing his sewing. She darned his spare socks, after washing them. She also rebuilt his sword scabbard in less time than he had needed to put it together the first time. Steven soon found her to be overly ingratiating, and annoyingly subservient.

033 - Learning Local Customs

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 18

Now this was unexpected.

Five days after picking her up, she completely surprised Steven. Caspian was out hunting when it happened. Steven was lounging on his bedroll, idly burning a long twig in the fire. Then he looked up.

Abey stood before Steven, opening her vest and shirt, in process of undressing.

“What’s this?” Steven sprung up from reclining on his bed.

“I am strong enough now. I offer myself to you, to do as you will.” She dropped her vest and shirt on the pile of stuff, leaving just a strip of fabric tied around her chest, showing her to have the classic farmer tan. Abey then began untying her skirt.

“Stop. I do not understand.” Steven grabbed her wrists, and pulled them up, and looked at her face. His expression a swirl of confusion, hers likewise.

Her skirt fell from her waist to her hips. She looked up at him, towering head and shoulders above her, holding her wrist at the level of her shoulders. His hands were clenched to restrain her arms, she could feel a lot of pent up power in them.

“Well, you have been an honorable man, and care well for me. This is customary, when a servant has nothing else to give in payment of debt. Would not this be acceptable? Am I not desirable?”

Steven was not versed in the facial expressions and behavioral moors of Tywacomb, but could understand bafflement when he heard it, even in a language he had spoken for less than three weeks.

“No. Desirability is not the issue. It will not be acceptable. I am sworn to another woman, whom I passionately love. Who has born me two children. For me to do this with you is to betray her. This I will not do. Also it would not be wholly decent, as you are nearly young enough to be my daughter.”

Steven let go of her wrists, and stepped back. He then reached down and picked her shirt back up and held it out as she readjusted her skirt back to place.

She took the shirt, and put it back on. As she moved, she looked to be as well built as Roxanne, and work hardened to boot. Steven felt like a scoundrel for watching, and turned away.

“You speak of payment. Why? I do not feel that you owe anything. The food was provided by your mother, and the rest along the way.”

Abey smoothed her shirt, and went back around the fire, secured her girdle at her waist, and sat down on the log there. She watched him a moment, as he sat back onto his bed roll.

“Until I repay you for your efforts in caring for me, I am in bond to you. I know that you are a stranger to this area, but…” She paused a moment in thought. “I guess I presumed too much from your ministrations. I am sorry to have offended.”

“No. You haven’t offended. Surprised. But not offended. I suppose you should be told what is going on.”

Caspian walked up, with a freshly cleaned critter in his hand, and a sated Cyrril on his shoulders. “A good idea.”

They both looked up at him, and watched as he impaled the critter on a branch, and started it cooking over the fire.

“Shall I go first, or will you?” Steven asked.

“You start. I will fill in the holes.” Caspian unwound Cyrril, and put him on the ground by the fire.

So Steven began telling all he knew. Caspian filled in little. He told of the Elves sending Caspian. Of being from another world, and having his children and wife kidnapped. Of meeting Caspian and coming to Tywacomb. Of Caspian casting his spell to locate Roxanne in the capitol of this kingdom.

“And as we came through, we found you. I picked you up, seeking to get you help, and have ended up providing it.”

Abey interjected at this point. “No wonder you know so little of local ways. I knew you a stranger. But had not begun to guess by how much.”

“You believe I am from another world,” Steven asked.

“How could you not be,” Abey replied. “Only elves are as tall as you. And they are rumored to travel to other worlds among the stars.”

“On my world, mostly those thought deranged openly declare a rational belief in people on other worlds.” Steven pushed the last of the stick into the fire.

“Well, I am not deranged. So you are questing to retrieve your wife, and then your children?” Abey smirked.

Caspian answered. “Yes we are.”

“I will help, as best as I can.”

“Fine. Just keep your shirt on.” Steven answered, with a hint of laughter in his voice.

She just blushed a bit, as Caspian looked from one to the other in curiosity.

The three camped on the shore of a lake Abey had led them to. They were at the end of their first week together. The three were now spaced out along the beach. Steven was vaguely wondering about how Abey was going to handle her monthly cycle; more from a strategic and logistic point of view than anything else. He almost wondered how Rox would once they picked her up, and then remembered she would not have to.

Steven was trying not to watch Abey, but with his own clothes hanging on the trees to dry, there was little to do. Caspian was farther down the shore the other direction, had arrayed his things to dry after washing them, then waded back in to the water, and evidently went for a swim.

Abey was in the other direction. She seemed to delight in flirting with Steven, the last two days. Right now she was close enough that he could see she was naked, and up to her hips in the water, washing her own clothes and gear. She left the water, and disappeared into the scrub for a few moments.

Steven turned his back, feeling even more the scoundrel for watching even from this distance.

She was suddenly behind him, giggling. “Was I interesting to watch?”

“I’m a married man, and not to you.”

“I know. But was I interesting?” She put her hands on his shoulders, and startled him a bit, while teasing him.

“Some what, yes. But if my wife thinks it was anything more, she will have my hide.”

The hands massaged a bit, trying to loosen his neck and shoulders. “And what of mine?”

He could feel the strength in her hands, as they worked. “She will not stop with your hide. Roxanne will pull your lungs out.”

“Well, I like breathing. So I will not anger her.” Abey patted his shoulders, and disappeared. Her giggle following after her.

Steven felt frustrated, and a bit ashamed. He knew he had not done anything explicitly wrong. But still he felt he had. He grabbed a pair of boxers, and pulled it on as he went down to the water to swim.

The day they left the lake, the three travelers moved up into the foothills of the last mountain range before starting to descend to the coastal planes.

Steven was feeling fine, having acclimated to the environment. He stopped to take pictures occasionally. He had gone through most of one 36-frame roll by this time.

Abey was recovered and holding her own now. She contributed her share to their needs with a borrowed sling, and skill with her knife. She also knew the area better than Caspian could have hoped. She only had the one spare change of clothes that compressed neatly into her backpack, which she wore. A blanket was also carried in it.

Caspian just kept the pace as best he could. They were moving a bit faster now than the previous week. His tracker for Rox held steady, so they followed it, following roads and game trails, mostly in as straight a line he could, ignoring the terrain.

Steven noticed that as the day progressed Abey and Caspian became progressively more alert, and Abey more excited. At dinner he asked what was going on.

Caspian answered first. “Remember that rock marker I pointed out this morning?”

“Yes.”

“We have entered a potentially dangerous region.”

Abey interrupted. “That’s an understatement. These people barely recognize The King’s claim, let alone the local Duke.”

She stopped to let Caspian continue, but he motioned for her to carry on.

“If any of the locals catch you, you become the evening’s entertainment; and occasionally dinner.”

“Cannibals?”

“No,” Abey shook her head, in mild disgust. “Beast fighting. To them, it is a way to prove valor. If you win, you are free to go the next morning.”

Steven finished the thought. “If you loose, you’re the beast’s dinner. How do we avoid this?”

“By not getting caught, or by traveling in a large caravan,” she answered.

“How far across?”

“Two or three days. Once we crest the mountain summits, they won’t bother us.”

They did not have that long to wait. Though they did not know it, the next two nights their fire was spotted.

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 25

Some of the locals are really strange. I would hate to get in a fight with them.

Breakfast was finished with a picket of spears surrounding them. Twelve men and seven women stood around, wearing tanned leathers and painted faces.

One of the men addressed them in a language that Steven did not comprehend. Caspian was about to answer when Abey spoke first. A rapid fire exchange of words and the spears turned to form a closed circle; no longer threatening, but not allowing them to leave either.

“He says that we will go with them willingly, or be buried here.” Abey shrugged, and packed her bag.

Caspian and Steven followed suite.

The three shouldered their loads, and a square formed around them, and conducted them in a direction away from the main trail. The group moved quickly along, and was soon on a trail that developed into another main trail for the area. The natives ate as they moved, and allowed the three to do the same.

The natives all wore the same basic costume. Steven’s first though about their costumes when he had noticed them stand around then was of Ghillie Suits that snipers wear. They had tanned leather boots, spun cloth britches, leather tunic or singlet and belt, and a poncho or smock. Strips of cloth, small branches, chunks of native grasses, leaves and so forth were attached to the clothes of all of the locals in various degrees. They also had a few decorative items, with much of the jewelry being of claws and teeth. Also their minimally exposed skin was painted in reds and browns, similar to the ground of the area. They all had tight braids in a short row, starting at their left sideburn going back toward the ear. Various bits of stuff were braided in these. The men’s hair was otherwise very short, the women’s only a bit longer. The overall look was of shambling creatures.

Again Steven was taller, but these people were short enough in general that Steven towered over them. If not for their spears, and other glimpsed weapons, he might have though they were children.

034 – An Afternoon Rest And Evening Entertainment

They turned up a draw, and across a saddle. Finally they entered a clearing, and stopped. Steven looked around, after a long day of hiking he was surprised to stop as he and Caspian usually went on for an hour more. Steven was startled to see a village around him. It was built right into the land, with very little done to change or prove the land that was not directly agricultural. Doors and windows looked out from between scrub and trees. Children were running around, as young and old adults were tending to chores. A light breeze up the draw kept the air fresh.

Steven nudged Caspian. “Are we in Hobbiton, or the home of Gustav Stickley?”

“Where?” Caspian was completely baffled by this comment from Steven.

“Sorry. Out of context joke.”

“Right.”

They stood in the area for a moment, and then were directed to another side area, a hollow in the terrain. In the bottom of this hollow was a hole. It was surrounded by two tiers of benches. The rectangular hole was about 8 feet deep, and lined by finished stone. They were settled on the inner row of benches, on the short side of the hole. Steven estimated it was about 12 feet wide and 30 feet long. As they settled down, loops of rope were put around their ankles. Steven was in the middle, with Caspian to his right and Abey to his left. They put down their traveling gear around them. Cyrril fluttered around the hollow, investigating whatever he could find.

A guard spoke to Abey for a moment.

“We are to stay here. And not go anywhere unescorted. Now, if you will excuse me for a bit.” She then turned to the guard and spoke in their language.

The guard nodded, and Abey slipped her ankle out of her loop, and went with another guard out of the hollow.

Steven turned to Caspian at this point.

“Why are you letting her do all the talking?”

Caspian was working his boots off as he answered. “Because she speaks the language better than I do.”

“Right.”

They were sorting their gear and stretching a bit when Abey returned. She seemed to bounce along, enjoying what was happening. She slipped her foot into her loop, and made herself comfortable, as Steven watched.

“So, what happens now?”

“Well, we wait.” Abey stretched a bit, and sat on the ground, her back against the bench. “Come dinner time, the village will assemble, and we will take our turns in the pit. Kill or be killed.”

“Who will we fight?”

“Whatever critter they toss in with you.”

“What do we fight with?”

“What ever you take in with you.”

“You’re excited.”

“Yeah.”

Caspian leaned over to join in. “Why?”

She smiled up at both men. “Remember my irritation over what my mother did not send with you?”

Both men nodded, vaguely.

“Well, I was looking for a certain necklace, with matching bracelet and earrings. Mom never liked them. There was a lot that Mom didn’t like that way.”

Caspian interrupted, “What made these special?”

“I made them myself. ‘Umpa was from this land. He kidnapped and raped ‘Nana. She eventually came to love him, but only after he took her home to Beowa. Well, mom really dislikes the idea of being the bastard child of a rape, never mind that her brothers and sister are all legitimate. So, as ‘Nana was able to tend the farm with the kids help ‘Umpa returned to his people. But only for the summers. Come harvest he was back, and working as hard as the rest, usually with a stock of meat and summer-furs to trade. Well. Mom married, and I came along. ‘Umpa and ‘Nana both came back to this land, a village to the south of here. I spent most summers and one winter with them, to mom’s chagrin. Along the way, I learned their tongue.

“Well, at Mom’s request, I was kept off limits from the young men. To Mom’s chagrin, ‘Umpa taught me to hunt. So, the necklace and earrings were made from the teeth and claws of things I killed those summers, while tending ‘Nana’s flocks. The bracelet was the claws and teeth of a mountain cat that I killed,” Abey gestured to the pit, “in taking a turn in a pit.”

Steven guessed the rest. “So your mother did not approve, and to discourage you, she did not send them. That might also explain whom your parents ‘gave’ you to.”

Abey nodded.

When Steven had first found her, he had thought Abey to be a helpless waif. But as he got to know her, he discovered that she was far from helpless. Save in the face of her social situation. Until he came along.

“She did not send my sling either. That is why I had to borrow one. Otherwise I would be contributing to the meals more.” Abey turned to her belt at that point and pulled the sling off with its bag of shot and handed it back to Caspian.

Caspian spoke as he put the sling away under his coat. “Oh, yes. ‘It’s not a woman’s place to provide. Only to tend and prepare what is provided.’”

“That’s Mom. Now, after telling who my grandparents are, I get to go back in the pit. And claim a new set of trophies.”

This idea intrigued Steven. Caspian was also very interested, but down played his enthusiasm.

“How is this? Are there some rules for going in,” Steven asked.

“As I said before, it is a test of valor. I have actually been in 6 times. The seventh time is against the nastiest critter they will put in. Also the contest is really to put yourself to the level of the critter you are there with. To face a mountain cat with a sword is considered less than using a knife.”

Abey turned to the guard, and spoke to him in their language. He left and returned shortly, with a bag that he gave to her. She opened it, pulled its contents out. They were gauntlets, of various sizes. Made of leather, the fingers looked to end just beyond the first knuckle. Fixed between each finger and running to a plate attached to the palm was a set of four short curved blades. They all looked well used and cared for, and were tied in pairs by the laces that would be used to tie them closed. The blades looked well cared for, and sharp enough. Abey sorted through the pile, and tried on three pair, before finding one that she liked.

It came half way up her forearm, and wrapped tight, to reinforce the wrist. The blades were a bit longer than her fingers, when spread. When she clenched to a fist, she gripped the plate that held the blades, and pinched the blades between her fingers. They looked generally like claws.

“Using these, and dressed in as much as the critter is, is considered the pinnacle of valor.”

Caspian looked for a moment, as Cyrril fluttered over to examine the gauntlets. “Have you used something like those before?”

“The last two times.” Abey smiled in a wistful remembrance. “If you really want to impress these people, go for as even a match against the critter as you can.”

The village was signaled by a bell from somewhere nearby, and people filtered in to the hollow to watch the spectacle. Steven noticed that many bore the marks of various slashes. A few had missing eyes, or misshapen limbs. Many more looked as fit as any Steven had encountered. Several young men with spears took up positions around the pit, and stood there as if to guard it. Torches were lit, though the sun was still coming through the trees.

Caspian put his boots back on, and called Cyrril to order. He had only removed his cloak and shoulder bag, keeping his coat on, and his staff nearby. Abey had removed her boots, as had Steven. As for that, they had all generally divested themselves of their travel gear, having sat there or stood near for some time. Steven had honed his knife, and sword. Also he had put his crossbow, pack, and coat aside.

An older man called the assembly to order, by standing on the bench beside Abey, his hands raised for attention. Shortly the crown was quiet. The man addressed them briefly, and gestured to the three of them, and then to the pit.

He turned to them, and addressed them in the common tongue.

“Who will go first?”

Abey stood up. “I will.” She then switched to the local tongue, and addressed the crowd.

They roared back in challenge. The gauntlets she had picked out earlier were presented to her.

Abey quickly divested herself of her clothes, down to her boob-tube and breach cloth. She pulled her hair from its restraint and let it hang down her back. Then she pulled the gauntlets on and the leader tied them closed. A set of barbed knee pads was tied on. Barefoot, and nearly naked, she stepped to the center of the wall, and raised her fists in the air in salute. She stood where she could be seen by all, idly clanging the blades together.

Steven remembered watching her at the lake. Then he was not close enough to see any detail. Earlier when she had offered herself to him, the light was not bright enough for a detailed look, and he was concerned about other things. Now with her close enough to touch, and in just her skivvies, he could see as she moved around she had three sets of claw marks across her body. One that ran down her left side, from below her ribs to mid-thigh; a concentric set that ran across her shoulder blades; one set that ran down her belly.

Steven looked quickly at Caspian. But he was looking across the pit, to where a cage was being moved by extended carry handles to the edge.

Abey dropped into the pit, walked to the middle, and yelled in the native language for a few moments. The crowd yelled in nearly joyous frenzy.

She challenged the crowd again. They yelled again and began to chant. Then at the far end, the cage was in position. The carry handles were long enough for two men on either side, or to allow a lot of room for one. Some snarling critter was inside, spitting and growling.

Steven turned and noticed that Caspian had suddenly moved. He had thrown his hood over Cyrril, and was working to get the little dragon in a restraining hold. One of the locals looked ready to help, but Caspian quickly had Cyrril under control.

The crowd roared, and Steven turned to see something land on its feet below the cage. In the light available, it looked to be about the size of a small adult bear. It staggered a bit, and regained its composure, then looked about in irritation and hissed at the noise. The crowd quieted, and Abey screamed at the thing. Steven decided it looked about like he figured a wolverine would, but was a bit larger, and possibly different in the construction of its head and face.

She stood her ground as it surveyed the situation. It looked around, and decided it wanted out more than it wanted her. It turned to leap back the way it came. Three young men with spears moved to block its way, as Abey also moved. She charged and leapt on its back, her weight colliding with it as its spring started. She wrapped her arms around it, as it crashed into the wall, instead of onto it. They tumbled and it snarled as she stayed on top. She got off it, and backhanded its muzzle. Steven was not sure, but thought he could see its back torn up a bit where her knee pads had bit in as she landed.

It rounded on her, and swatted at her, growling. Abey dodged, and the thing turned away, to try to escape again. Again, she stopped it, by backhanding its ears. It flinched, and turned back to her, it swatted again, and she backed away. It paced a bit before her, as she matched it. She again swatted it when it tried to turn away.

Steven realized that she had not yet used the cutting edges of the claws yet. “She must want the trophy.”

“Yes.” The leader beside him on the bench agreed.

It paced a bit more, then tamped its hind legs a bit, and crouched, facing her. She faced it square, slightly to its right. It would have to leap slightly diagonal, and Steven wondered if she had torn up this side’s rear leg. Its spring was almost a surprise, but in the instant before it moved, it flinched.

Abey lunged as the thing leapt, and pulled it over, so that she landed on top of it, as it landed on its side. It was thicker and heavier than she was, and growled and swiped at her, as she worked to stay on top. It bit into her left shoulder, as it scratched and grabbed at her back, and looked to be trying to get its rear legs in to do damage.

Abey screamed as it bit her, and got her right hand in under its neck. Her arm jerked out hard, and into the paw on that side. Blood washed out from under her head as the creature tried to continue struggling.

Their noises stopped, and the creature stopped moving.

Steven watched as Abey got up from the now dead beast. She had a fresh set of deep scratches on the middle of her back running from the center to the left, and had to open its jaw to get its teeth out of her flesh. Streams of blood ran down from the bite. Her left arm hung at her side, though she worked the elbow and hand. She stood up, and caught her breath. Then turned her head up and yelled, raising her right hand.

The crowd yelled back, and then quieted.

Abey walked back to this side of the pit, and a looped rope was dropped to her. Her face and front were covered in blood, though most of it was not hers. She put her foot in the loop, and held on with her right hand. Steven could see that her right gauntlet was soaked in blood. The damage to her shoulder on her front was more severe than her back, as it had evidently been chewing on her a bit. A healer emerged from the crowd and began tending to her.

“Are you ok?” Steven leaned past the leader to make eye contact.

She was still breathing a bit hard. “Yeah. My shoulder is a mess, but I’m fine. You’re next.”

Abey chuckled, and winced as the healer poured what smelled of alcohol over the bite to begin cleansing it.