2565 A.D.!
A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN
By Jerome B. Bigge
Book Two
Chapter Eight
"What Happened To You?" Lady Tirana gasped as I dragged the stumbling crossbowman in on the end of a rope tied to my saddle, his weapon now cradled cocked and loaded in my arms. I had not been gentle with the assassin. Half my dress now served as band- ages for my wounds. I looked perhaps little better than I felt! I had lost considerable blood. My ribs hurt, and my thigh still bled a bit! It was dark now, the stars gleaming in the clear sky above. A faint glow in the west the last only hint of twilight. The mosquitoes buzzing around my head now in the still calm air.
"He tried to kill me and came damm close to doing it!" I an- swered with a grim smile there in the light from her lamp, a num- ber of her men at arms surrounding her, swords and bows close at hand. It is usually wise to be careful approaching any estate after dark. Sometimes the trigger pull on crossbows is awfully light! One never is too sure. Caution is often the best policy.
I had not wished to return to my own estates for fear that I might be greeted by another crossbow bolt out of the darkness! I had no doubt that whoever had paid this man to kill me had also known of my movements, and the fact that I would return to my own estate early that evening just before dark. I did not think that they would be watching Lady Tirana's. There were also questions I wanted "answers" to. Answers that I had every intention of ob- taining from the naked assassin now following with my rope around his neck. I had of course taken the precaution of stripping him, of tying his hands with a long strip cut from my dress, silk be- ing a strong fiber that also makes an excellent bondage material.
"Take him to the blacksmith's shed and secure him well to the ceiling rafters by his wrists and see that his legs are well spread," Lady Tirana snapped, her voice icy cold. "And inform the blacksmith that I wish irons to be heated as of right now!" The tone of her voice making me shudder. Her men nodding, re- garding their mistress with perhaps a bit of awe. I saw her eyes glitter into my own. We would obtain the information we desired even if there wasn't anything left afterwards to enslave or kill!
"Here," Lady Tirana said to me, handing me the bottle of brandy there in the lamp lit room, her fingers deft, sure as she checked my bandages, my wounds. Applying that wonderful healing compound of the 26th Century. My fine fitted silk dress that I had paid nearly a gold crown for now but bloody rags fit for only being used as a cleaning cloth! I would have to wear one of hers or ride back home in the morning in nothing but some bloody rags!
"You're a fool, Lorraine, just a damn lucky fool that you're still alive," Tirana smiled as I handed her back the bottle, the brandy burning its way down inside me. A lovely black silken dress ready for me, a sloe eyed slave girl ready to assist me in dressing. A gleaming collar snug around her neck. Lady Tirana smiling to herself as she stood there, shaking her head as if she could not believe that any Warrioress would be stupid enough to try what I had done. I had been awful lucky. That was for sure!
"I thought of that afterwards," I smiled, half in the dress as I slipped it over my head. "Learned the meaning of fear too." I had learned from Hara that Lady Tirana was a former "Warlady" of Sarn! That she had been Warlady under Thar Marden, the King! She had been dismissed from her post by the newly widowed Queen. Darlanis had been looking for a "scapegoat" for the King's death in battle against the Nevadas. And Tirana had been her "victim".
"If Darlanis had a hundred like you I think she could con- quer the world," the attractive retired Warlady smiled in reply as I emerged from the dress like a turtle from its shell. I took only a minute to buckle my weapons back around my waist, Lady Tirana handing me the brandy bottle, telling me to drink deep. I did not look forward to what we were going to do to the assassin.
I felt the sweat drip down my body as the man screamed like a woman in agony. Lady Tirana holding the flaming torch between his legs, burning his genitals. We had not obtained the informa- tion I wished. Only that he had been paid fifty gold crowns by a woman in black, heavily veiled, to kill me. She had worn a sword and dagger. Had on long gloves so that one could not see the caste mark. Had worn a broad brimmed hat that concealed what her veil had not. Her hair had been black like mine or Tirana's. It could have been any woman. Her trappings had been those of a "Lady", but that bit of information was hardly helpful to us now.
"We aren't going to get anything more out of him," Lady Tirana said to me in the same tones that she would have used had she said that she hoped it would rain. The man hung, gasping, sobbing, a thing of horror that sickened me. Tirana had used fire, hot irons. I would not have had the "stomach" for what she had done. What had been necessary to learn even what we had.
"What will we do with him now?" I asked, sickened by what I had seen. Sickened by what I had allowed Lady Tirana to do. She was of the 26th Century. Hardened to such things as I never will be. She took another swig from the near empty bottle of brandy. I could see the sweat there on her face, the look in her dark eyes as they looked into mine. It had taken much to do what we had. The memories of this night would not be soon forgotten by either one of us. I felt sick to my stomach, disgusted by what we had done! What I had seen Lady Tirana do to him! The tor- tured screams of agony as she had held red hot irons to his flesh! The stink of his seared flesh made the gorge rise in my throat. He was a horrible sight, something out of a nightmare!
"Turn your back, Lorraine," Lady Tirana said in level tones, drawing her sword from its sheath. I did so, sickened. I heard the man scream "NO! NO!" Then there was a sudden strangled gur- gle and I heard the sound of a body thrashing against the ropes that held it in place there behind me! I felt the gorge rise in my throat, and bending over, vomited on the dirt floor there be- fore me! Retching and retching as my stomach emptied itself!
"This will bring momentary forgetfulness," Lady Tirana said, pouring the dark straw colored liquid into the glass and handing it to me. A slave girl kneeling, watching, her eyes dark, wide. I could smell Lady Tirana's sweat, my own soaking my dress. The body of the crossbowman would be buried in an unmarked grave out in the woods where it was likely no one would ever find it. I had killed before, but this was utterly different. We were in the little house she lived in until her manor could be rebuilt. The Dularnians having burned it when they captured her and killed her husband. She had seen him die before her eyes. I suppose she had good reason for seeking the release that alcohol gives.
"But why would anyone want to kill me?" I muttered, the whiskey burning my throat as I sipped it. It was "rotgut" she distilled herself. About a hundred proof. The half bottle of brandy I had drunk had hardly "touched" me during the "interroga- tion" of the assassin. I doubted if Tirana's whiskey would be much more effective. Why had someone paid fifty gold crowns for my life? I couldn't think of any enemies I had here in this era.
"You are `upsetting things' a bit around here with your in- sistence upon proper government and humane treatment of slaves," Lady Tirana commented, sipping at her whiskey. Her eyes dark, glowing into mine. She had "more guts" than I did, that was for sure. I had always considered myself "hard", but Tirana was like iron. The sort of a woman who could walk into Hell with a sword in her hand to face the Devil himself! A Warrioress' Warrioress!
"That's not enough for anyone to want to kill me!" I pro- tested. I might have "annoyed" a few people, but I certainly hadn't done anything that someone was willing to pay fifty gold crowns for to have me killed! That made utterly no sense at all!
"I'm going to give you `Samson' and `Delilah'," Lady Tirana smiled in reply, nodding to her slave girl, who went out quietly on bare feet to fetch whoever or whatever Samson and Delilah were! The wench shivering in terror as she closed the door be- hind her! Obviously `Samson' and `Delilah' were fearsome beasts!
"Lys!" I gasped, shrinking back, my hand going instinctively to the hilt of my sword at the sight of what stood beside the slim slave girl as Lady Tirana opened the door for her. The great gray furry bodies, the eyes, bringing back memories! Lady Tirana smiling, taking the leashes from the terrified slave girl!
"Lady Lorraine," Lady Tirana smiled, "Samson and Delilah."
"Those are dire wolves!" I breathed, feeling the fear sweat. A pack of them can pull down even a Garth, that great dinosaur- like carnivore that prowls the darkness of the deepest forests.
"I am breeding them," Tirana smiled. "I believe that they will someday be quite valuable as `guardians' for young innocent Warrioresses like you who don't know any better than to stay out of trouble." I am neither "young" or "innocent", but I tended to agree completely with that last final part of her statement! It had been a stupid action on my part to try to capture the cross- bowman. I had come very close to paying for it with my own life!
Before I could say any more I heard voices, heard footsteps there on the little veranda, the sound of booted feet. Samson and Delilah snarling horribly, their great fangs bared, their eyes like greenish hellfire! Whatever was going to come through that door was in for one great big sudden surprise!
"Lorr----!" Sanda Talen gasped, her hand going to the hilt of her sword, her husband flinging her practically off her feet as he thrust her back and whipped out his sword at the sight of the two dire wolves standing there only feet away from them both!
"Sheath your weapons," Lady Tirana spoke in level tones, her hands grasping the heavy leather collars both animals wore as they surged forward dragging her with them. Had they not been so beautifully trained neither Carl or Sanda would have stood a chance against the two four hundred pound predatory beasts my friend now controlled with only the actual power of her voice!
"Whew!" Carl smiled, his wife's dark eyes glowing into mine. I remembered how he had tried to protect her knowing that no man, not even the greatest warrior, could face two dire wolves and live! I once faced one as I have related. It was enough for me!
"I took the liberty of informing them of your whereabouts," Lady Tirana smiled as she then invited the couple in. Samson and Delilah at her command lying down in a corner of the room like a pair of gigantic dogs. "Dogs" four feet at the shoulder and go- ing nearly four hundred pounds! I felt very well "protected".
"Suzi! Drinks for our guests!" Lady Tirana snapped to her slave girl, who carefully skirted the two monsters sharing the room with us. Carl's arm possessively around his wife's body. I had no doubts that he would have died for her had it become nec- essary. Obviously she didn't need to "worry" about slave girls!
"Gave us a bit of a `scare' there," Carl smiled, Sanda at his side. The gold of her neck chain gleaming in the lamp light. He was a handsome fellow, tall, dark haired, well built. No doubt Sanda was quite capable of keeping him "happy" and "con- tent". I recalled the time I had accidentally seen them togeth- er. He wore the black leather of the Warrior, she the blue silk- en blouse and soft flowing black leather riding skirt that she usually wears. I saw the rapid rise and fall of her bosom under- neath the silk. Smiled at his comment in reply. I knew exactly how they felt. Suzi then returning with drinks, pouring, and keeping a watchful eye on Tirana's two fearsome dire wolves!