It was cool and peaceful in the forest, Sharon seeming to enjoy it once she had gotten over her fears of our being attacked by a "dire wolf". Said creature no doubt, I thought to myself, only a figment of her overly "vivid" imagination. I thought I might have a few words with the Princess when we got back about filling my Sharon's head with her "tall tales" and terrifying her so! So far the only life we had seen had been rather ordinary birds and little animals that scurried away into the brush at our approach. Little feathered and furry creatures that were no different from what I could see of them than those of the 20th Century. Ordinary squirrels and common birds like those of our era.
We had not traveled far when we came upon something that made me pause, for there before us stood the familiar mound in the woods that marked the home of Bob and Carol Simmons back in the 20th Century! The reinforced concrete "Earth Home" having survived all these years! "Bob always said that it would survive an `atomic war'," I breathed. Sharon at my side for the moment forgotten as the memories flooded back as if it had been but yesterday. The talks we had enjoyed together, the companionship that Jack had always been "too busy" to give me. Perhaps it was just as well that Jack made that "pass" that he did at Carol, or otherwise I fear now that the day would have come that I would have been guilty of sharing more than just "conversation" with Bob. Carol, more observant, more "knowing", had no doubts about what would have happened between us had our relationship gone on!
Now their home was nothing but a ruin fit for animals to live in, the trees having taken over everything over the years. I was a bit puzzled about the distance to the shoreline, the home in the 20th Century being considerably further away from the sea, but Janis says that the land settled somewhat from the effects of The War, and that nothing is the same as it was back in my time!
"Something wrong, Lorraine?" Sharon asked, seeing the moisture in my eyes as I looked upon the last remains of the past. A past that I would never be able to return to. Never be able to make Carol understand that the relationship between Bob and me was only friendship, and had nothing to do with sex. Not that I was ever foolish enough to think that he might leave a woman like her for someone like me. Carol being the sort of a woman of which it may be said that few like her have ever walked the face of the Earth. A provocative and sensual delight, beautifully figured, an houri of sexuality. The sort of a woman that one like me can never hope to ever compete with. Her bones no doubt molder somewhere in some forgotten grave now, hopefully alongside those of the husband she once loved seemingly more than life itself. She was a jealous woman, but perhaps with reason to be so.
"Nothing that you would understand, Sharon," I said to her. Crushing her to me, stroking her soft silky golden hair. Tears filling my eyes as I held her to me. "Someday when you are older and wiser, I will tell you about a part of my life that I have always kept from you because you would not have been able to understand," I told her, looking down into those lovely azure orbs.
"Let's see what we can find in these ruins," Sharon suggested, perhaps not understanding the emotional shock I had just undergone seeing the remains of Bob and Carol's beloved home. Bob having once told me that it was his intention along with Carol's to be buried out next to the little pond where he had first laid eyes upon his delightful and provocatively sexy curvy brownette. I did not wish to look for their tombstones, even if such had survived over the centuries, which I rather doubted considering the "condition" of everything else that I had seen so far here!
"Very well," I replied, hugging her once again to me, smiling into her eyes as they looked up into mine, knowing that she was as much "mine" as if I had given birth to her. Once again my lips brushed hers, then hand in hand, we walked towards the ruins so filled with memories of what had once been so long ago now.
"Well, we at least know now how far we've sailed," I said as we paused for a second to let our eyes adjust to the darkness before entering the interior. The glass patio doors now broken, half open, the framework now only rusty metal that fell apart at the touch. Explaining that we were now about eighty miles north of where Los Angeles had once stood before The War, our own home having been some twelve miles north of the city limits of LA.
There was little left in the house of interest, the ruins apparently having been stripped of everything valuable centuries before. But we did find a few items that had been overlooked, items that brought back memories of another life now six centuries in the past! Memories of dreams, of my own forbidden fantasies that never could have been! Carol had understood too much of the dangers that I represented to their marriage. I recalled her words, the anger there on her lovely features. Our parting had been painful, especially for me. I wondered if Jack had suspected the truth. Understood my feelings. If he even cared...
With such thoughts going through my mind, I was aware of little until Sharon suddenly shook me into alertness there in the ruins, saying, "I Heard Hoof Beats!" I knew they would not be friends. Placing a finger to my lips, I drew Sharon back with me into the deepest darkest shadows I could find. Placing her behind me as I drew my sword, prepared to defend our lives and freedom against those who would be our enemies! I prayed that there would not be too many of them. I knew the fate of slaves in this era. What would be done to an innocent girl like Sharon!
Sharon and I could hear voices, the voices being, I noted, that of a woman and three men. The four apparently dismounting somewhere before us, discussing something about a dire wolf that they were hunting. I felt Sharon tremble against me as I pushed her deeper into the shadows, the rotten remains of a leather sofa at our backs. The crude spear clutched bravely in her hand. I debated whether my bow might be a better weapon than my sword, but decided otherwise, thinking that at close quarters, steel was superior to "wood"... I am in any case, more a "swordswoman"...*
* I later learned the bow fairly well, but I prefer the sword...
Stepping through the broken ruins of the patio doors stepped a figure, the figure of a woman clad in a black tunic and hose, boots on her feet, a sword in its sheath at her hip. A bow half drawn in her hands. Then suddenly Sharon sneezed from the dust!
Seeing the movement in the shadows, and knowing that we were not "friends", the Californian woman raised her bow and launched the arrow there on the string towards me! My swift blade deflecting the missile to one side in a blurred slash that left few doubts as to the sort of skills with a blade that I possessed!
"Bors, Jon, Lars, To Me!" the attractive brownette cried. Whipping out her shining sword as she saw mine there in my hand, knowing that I was definitely not a "friend"! The three men dashing in, their swords in their hands. The three wearing leaf green tunics and hose, their caste being of the Foresters. Hers was of the Warrioresses. She served California, I served Dularn. Her blade was pledged to Darlanis Marden, the Empress of Imperial California. Mine to Janis Jord, the lovely Princess of Dularn!
Perhaps I should mention here that it is customary here in the 26th Century that those of the fighting Castes pledge their swords not to the nation which they serve, but to their monarchs. The pledge is given while kneeling before the monarch, who as a rule touches the individual on both shoulders with her own sword. (I am referring here to those ceremonies that I have witnessed in person, both when I knelt before Janis on the Ronda and later on after Janis' death when I finally pledged my blade to Darlanis) For this reason the Warrior or Warrioress does not think of "his" or "her" country in the same sense that a person of the 20th Century would. Californian Warriors and Warrioresses speak of "dying for Darlanis" in the same way that a soldier of the 20th Century might refer to possibly dying for "America". One thus serves a person, not a "country". Additionally most people of the Empire do not think of being "Californians" as such, but refer to themselves usually as "Trelandarians", "Sarnians", "Orgonians". The Dularnians do have a sense of "nationhood", but not like what one of the 20th Century would expect, since their first loyalty is not to the "country" as a whole, but to their own village or town with the "country" as such coming in second. Whether or not this is good or bad is not for me to say, although I do think that it tends to prevent conflicts that might otherwise occur should one group happen to intrude upon the national territory of the other. The closest thing I can conceive as a unified nation is Talon, which is a very close-knit society, but also rather hostile towards anyone that lives outside its borders as others have found, although perhaps with good reason here too...
"No!" I screamed as suddenly Sharon threw her crude spear directly at the woman. The woman throwing up her sword to deflect it away from herself, stumbling back as Sharon now dashed forward, her drawn dagger already now gleaming there in her hand! As Sharon leaped upon the woman, the two fell into a shadowed pile of rubble with a loud clatter. My courageous stepdaughter and the brownette warrioress now involved in their own battle, I met the assault of the three men. My blade swift as it flashed through the dank air. One of the green clad men going down as I leaped to one side, my blade having slashed his throat and the side of his neck. Spinning on my heels as I faced the remaining two men there in the remains of the Simmons' home!*
* As I am well aware, the home no doubt "belonged" to others after the death of Simmons, the couple actually living up into the third decade of the 21st Century according here to Janet Rogers!
As I feared, the warrioress soon got the better of Sharon, a sixteen year old girl no match for a trained fighting woman in such an uneven battle. Sharon's best not good enough as the woman stunned her with a blow and staggered to her feet. The black clad woman searching for the shining sword that she had dropped when Sharon's miscast spear had struck her. Her face bearing the marks of Sharon's nails as my brave girl laid stunned and moaning at her feet, knocked senseless by a blow that Warrioresses know.
I had just dropped the second man when she came at me. The warrioress' thrust at me fortunately missing its mark, her attack having been swift and deadly. I thought her to be a worthy opponent. She was somewhat shorter than me, but more feminine in her build, and reminded me a lot of Bob's wife Carol! She also was fast and deadly, with a skill that made me look to my own laurels. A true mistress of the blade! A Princess of the Sword!
Our blades rang together as they met in a clash of steel, her last companion standing back, letting her engage me while he sought to find an opening that he could exploit. There had yet been no words between us, none being necessary, our actions alone marking us as enemies. She was Californian, I was Dularnian. Nothing more was necessary. I respected her for what she was. I expect that she felt much the "same" about me. We lived by the same Codes. Her blade was pledged to Darlanis, mine to Janis, although I suppose technically it was also pledged to her mother Queen Tulis Jord, who was the actual true ruler of Dularn then.
"Now!" the black clad attractive brownette hissed, driving in at me, her blade ringing against mine. Attempting to hold me on the defensive just long enough for her green clad companion to kill me. Then suddenly Sharon raised up on one arm and flung an old pot at her, the missile striking the warrioress in the back and distracting her. Giving me the opening I sought to deal with her companion! Stepping quickly to one side there in the shadows, using him to block the attack of his black clad mistress, I slashed his throat in a swift cut. The blood spurting there in the semi-darkness as he fell to the filth of the once carpeted floor. Now she was all alone. Mine to kill if I so wished it!
Our blades rang out as they met in the swift deadly dance of clashing steel, dipping and darting, the Warrioress fighting for her life now as I drove her back. My skill with a blade terrifying her as it has others who have dared face me! My attack forcing the black clad beauty back, the woman swift in her movements as she leaped to one side, avoiding the trap that I had set for her. I met the woman's terrified return attack, a swift ringing of our blades there in the dim light of the Simmons' living room telling of our respective skills. She was an excellent swordswoman, better yet than any I had encountered here in this strange land. She was also almost a twin sister for another I had known!
Then I saw the horror in her soft hazel eyes as she slipped and fell in the filth. A quick motion of my blade enough to take her life as she looked up at me, knowing her life was in my hands. I thought that there had been enough killing for one day. Her red lips, lips made for love and kisses, quivered as she waited for the swift thrust that would end her life. I was proud that she had not begged me for it. It spoke well of her spirit!
"I do not wish your life," I said to the woman, Sharon dazed behind her getting to her feet, her mouth bloodstained. The lovely brownette at my feet regarding me as she laid helpless before me, letting her sword drop to one side. She reminded me much of Bob's wife, Carol, both in looks and her own mannerisms.
"Lorraine," Sharon pleaded as she joined me, "Don't kill her!" My stepdaughter now standing at my side, her crude spear once again in her hands. Her azure eyes pleading into mine as she then added, "She didn't do anything more to me than just defend herself." Words that made my heart sing, for perhaps now I wouldn't have to take this brave lovely woman's life after all!
"What is your name?" I asked, letting her get up off the floor, telling her ours. The woman brushing herself off, the sensual curves of her figure little concealed by her clothing. I knew that such a woman would bring a high price on the slave market should I decide to sell her into slavery, such usually being the fate of attractive and desirable women taken captive both by the Empire and by Dularnians. The idea that you might be sold into slavery being less horrifying for most women of this era than the idea of being "raped" was back in the 20th Century for a woman of my own time. Not that most women enjoy being slave girls, although some apparently do, but female slavery is common enough and something that any woman, if she is attractive, knows could be her fate if she was to be captured by an enemy warrior.
"I am the Lady Lana Daris of Trelandar," she answered, standing there before us, her voice showing the strain she felt. Her voice, her face, her figure, all bringing back memories of Carol. The golden chain riveted securely around her throat marking her as a married woman of more than three years, and thus eligible to have children under the laws of The Priestesses of Lys.
"I think I can allow you to keep your clothing," I smiled in reply, it often being the practice to strip female prisoners, the supposed reason being that women often carry little knives and such on their persons and thus cannot be "trusted" with clothing. I suspect however, that the real reason is to break the woman's "spirit" by depriving her of clothing, even to the nipple clips and "strap" that are the common attire of 26th Century females.
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