Barbarian Tales
Episode 1
Mistress of the Sword
by L'Espion
Chapter 1: The Sword Maiden
Shailaja frowned into the mirror. “Have I not spent enough time before this
piece of glass? If
“You are the daughter of the War Leaders of the
Kaltara,” her mother replied, placing her arm on Shailaja’s shoulder. “It is only proper that you look your best at
the banquet. The Emperor will expect no
less.”
“The Emperor,” Shailaja replied. “I saw him as he came in. A great hairy beast if ever there was
one. And it is rumoured he has bedded
hundreds of women.”
“He is reputedly a great warrior; perhaps even
one to equal a Kaltaran. It is only
natural he exhibit a healthy sexual appetite.”
“And you think to have him dine on me?”
Shailaja bristled. “I think not mother.”
“I did not say that,” her mother replied
calmly. “As is our custom you are free
to choose your swordmate. However, you
have so far found few to please you among the warriors of the Kaltara and
Cleron might well be a good match.”
Shailaja knitted her fiery eyebrows together as
she peered into the mirror. “I will
think on it,” she conceded, “but I see no reason why I should choose at
all. Can I not remain free as do some
men?”
“It is not against our custom as you know,” her
mother replied. “But it would be a shame
for one so blessed physically not to have children, and who better than with a
man like Cleron who might prove a useful ally?”
Shailaja grunted and stared back into the mirror. Piercing green eyes set in a remarkably
beautiful face stared back at her. “Is
it always to be thus?” she asked. “Am I
to be judged for my physical beauty rather than for my prowess as a
warrior? I know that the Prithian
Emperor is regarded as a man equal to any Kaltaran, but I also know that
Prithians do not allow their women to fight.
I cannot endure the thought of being kept in a palace and used as
nothing but a brood mare.”
“It may not have to be thus,” her mother
replied. “You could change that. The Prithians have a history of warrior
queens.”
“Had a history you mean,” Shailaja
replied. “No Prithian woman has taken up
the sword in centuries.”
“I knew it was a mistake having you learn so
much history,” her mother smiled.
Shailaja laughed and got to her feet. Standing up she stood a good head taller than
her mother, and Jarita was no small woman, standing over eight spans or some
six feet in the Common Tongue. Other
than that they were very much alike; both graceful and full figured, although
Jarita’s colouring was blonde compared to Shailaja’s vivid crimson hair.
“You are my only daughter,” Jarita said,
looking into Shailaja’s eyes. “I can
deny you nothing. You will marry whom
you choose; or no one at all if that is your pleasure. However, try not to insult the Prithian
Emperor. I have heard that he intends to
ask for you at tonight’s banquet.”
“So this is what this is all about,” Shailaja
growled accusingly, her fair complexion darkening. “How long have you known that I was to be
bartered off?”
“Do not look that way at me, daughter,” Jarita
warned. “Have you not been listening? “You are free to do as you wish. I merely thought to prepare you for the
unexpected.”
“And the unwanted,” Shailaja muttered. “Why is it that women are always faced with
the hard choices? It would have been
better had I been born a son.”
“It is because we are the stronger sex,” her
mother replied. “Do you not think that I
faced the same choices?”
“But you married father, and became the Hasta;
the War Leaders of Kaltara.”
“Indeed, I did marry your father; and I do not
regret a day of it. But you know the
story. It was not at first a love
relationship. It was originally a
political arrangement; a marriage intended to strengthen Kaltara and unite the
clans against outside invasion.”
“And now you wish the same for me,” Shailaja said
resignedly.
“Not at all.
You will make your own choices as is the Kaltaran way. But you are the daughter of Jarita and Hari,
War Leaders of Kaltara, and have the honour of the clan to uphold, just as do
your brothers.”
“Perhaps one of them could marry Cleron,”
Shailaja suggested wryly.
“If the stories are true it appears that Cleron
is not inclined that way. It is
unfortunate he is not a woman; I am sure one of your brothers would enjoy
entertaining him.”
“It is somehow hard to imagine Cleron and one
of my brothers rolling around with one another in bed,” Shailaja grinned.
“Yes,” Jarita agreed. “They are a randy lot, but indisputably drawn
to members of the opposite sex.”
“Perhaps if I was more like them I might find
Cleron less eager to take me to his bed.”
“There is that,” Jarita agreed. “By the time I was your age I had already
bedded several swordmates. By Cleron’s
standards I would have profaned myself and not be fit to share his throne.”
“Perhaps I should invite Telor to my room. There is still time.”
“There is no time,” Jarita said. “The banquet begins in less than a turn of
the glass.”
“How long does it take?” Shailaja asked
innocently.
“Longer than that, if done properly,” her
mother replied. “Now stop delaying and
get dressed. “You are running out of
time.”
“Must I really wear this?” Shailaja replied,
looking at the array of clothing and jewellery laid out for her.
“You must, and I must as well,” Jarita
replied. “
“Must I wear this?” Shailaja asked, picking up
a magnificent emerald necklace. It was
an unexpected gift from Cleron and had been presented to her when she and the
rest of her family had greeted the Emperor at the entrance to the Great Hall. To publicly refuse such a gift would have
been the height of indiscretion and bad manners and Shailaja had taken it from
the Emperor’s hands with a confused “Thank you.” She now stared at it distastefully.
“You know that you must,” Jarita answered
curtly. Not to wear it would be the
greatest of insults.” It was clear her
mother’s patience was at an end and with a sigh Shailaja allowed
By the standards of the rest of Vedra Kaltaran
formal dress resembled that worn by others when they were going to war. She was dressed in tight black leather pants
set off by knee-high high boots of the same colour. Her upper body was covered with a leather
vest dyed a deep green, and slashed to the middle of her chest, leaving much of
her ample bosom uncovered. Her arms were
left bare and adorned with silver armlets above the elbow and wound with a
silver band of the same metal that extended from just below her elbow to her wrists. About her neck was placed the silver
medallion of the Ice Wolf which had been given to her by her father on her
fifteenth spring, the year a Kaltaran warrior was considered to be an adult. Reluctantly Shailaja removed the medallion
and allowed
Her hair, normally kept in a warrior’s braid,
was allowed to flow like red silk over her shoulders and hang loose to her
waist. Loops of silver worn only on such
festive occasions pierced each ear.
Shailaja frowned at her reflection as her
mother spoke. The green is a perfect
match for your eyes,” Jarita remarked.
“Don’t you think so,
“She’s the perfect maiden,”
“Fear not,”
“My maidenly virtues can go….”
“Daughter,” Jarita interrupted before Shailaja
could complete her blasphemous statement, “do not anger the gods. You never know when they may be
listening. Now, enough delay. We are due in the Great Hall in a quarter of
a turn of the glass.”
Jarita was dressed in a manner similar to
Shailaja except that she favoured the colour red for her leathers and the gold
and rubies she had chosen as jewellery seemed to better set off her golden
hair.
Yes, mother,” Shailaja answered contritely. When her mother took that tone it was not
wise to push her further.
“And remember,” he mother continued. “You are a warrior of Kaltara. No one can make you do what you do not wish
to do; but tonight we welcome the Emperor of Prithia and we do not wish to
dishonour our people through offering insult.”
“I will do my best, mother,” Shailaja replied
as
It was strange to see herself like this. She had always been more admired for her
prowess with the sword and bow than for the beauty of her body, although she
had been told by some that she was indeed beautiful, and more than one sword
partner had gazed into her eyes and attempted to convince her to join him on
his pallet, but she never found any of them interesting enough to go that
far.
She had not abstained out of any wish to keep
herself “pure.” Kaltarans in general were a sexually free people and did not hide
behind the artificial conventions of other peoples regarding mating. She had simply not found any of her sword
partners, either male or female, interesting enough to go beyond the casual
touching and kissing that all healthy young men and women engaged in. Her reluctance to surrender to any man was
not due to a lack of sexual desire; far from it. She experienced sexual hunger as strong as
that of any nubile young woman, but she wanted a liaison to be with a man she
considered her equal as a warrior and she had not yet found that man. And she certainly was not interested in the
arrogant lump that styled himself Emperor of Prithia.
She had met the emperor once before as a girl
of thirteen and even then been had been far less than impressed with him; especially
the way his eyes had swept over her just developing body. Even then she had been almost six feet tall,
with small pointed breasts and slender hips.
Now that she had filled out, she was considerably more pleasing to the
eye and was not looking forward to having the emperor’s lascivious gaze on her
once again. However, there was little
that she could do about the situation when affairs of state were involved.
Prithia was an important source of markets for
Kaltara, the trading opportunities of the country limited by the fact that it
was bordered on the south and west by the Mountains of Storms and on the north
by the
And war was something that most Kaltarans were
not adverse to. Their harsh homeland
bred tall, strong warriors, most standing over eight spans or six feet as
measured in the Common Tongue. Heights
of ten spans were not unusual among Kaltarans.
Both males and females of Kaltara shared this characteristic height and
strength, and it was thought by some that Kaltarans were not truly of the race
of men, but were something else entirely.
As a result, in spite of their small numbers, Kaltarans were feared in
war and a number served in the northern kingdoms as mercenaries. However, all out war with an adversary as
formidable as Prithia was something that daunted even the fiercest Kaltaran
warriors. Prithia was not especially
known for the high quality of its warriors, but it had a population ten times
that of Kaltara and its warlike emperor, Cleron, had already shown that he was
a formidable opponent in war, having added considerably to the size of his
empire at the expense of his neighbours.
As a result Kaltara was forced to honour the Emperor on his trip north.
Ostensibly, he came due to his interest in the
hunt. Cleron fancied himself a great
hunter, having killed many a defenceless animal with the aid of his hunting
parties. His passion for killing brought him to Kaltara in search of trophies
to add to his already extensive collection.
It was at the state gathering held in his honour that Shailaja along with
her five brothers had been presented to him.
Barely thirteen springs of age, she had been
awed to be in his presence, but her awe soon turned to disgust and trepidation
when she saw the way he looked upon her.
These feelings intensified when she learned even more about him. Unlike most Prithians, who were rather short
and swarthy, Cleron was a huge man, rivalling most Kaltarans in height. His great mane of tawny blond hair and thick
chest-length beard made him seem almost lion-like. Unfortunately, although only in his forth
decade, he had allowed much of his body to go to fat, so that although he
presented a most formidable presence he reminded Shailaja more of a great bear
ready for hibernation than anything else.
For all that, she was impressed by his great
size and forceful personality, but was not in any way attracted to him. It was not so with Cleron. He looked her over like a caged wolverine
eyeing a chunk of raw meat. It,
therefore, did not come as a complete surprise that he had asked for her and
had offered inducements to her mother and father that were far too tempting for
them to refuse outright. But only after
he discovered that she had not yet been used by a man.
Such a distinction was important in some lands
and Prithia was one of them. There,
women were not accorded the freedoms Kaltaran women took for granted, but were
instead regarded as tainted if they had been used by a man before bonding. It seemed to Shailaja a strange custom and she
had no interest in becoming what she thought of as one of Cleron’s slave
women. However, her wishes in this
matter were given little thought by Cleron.
Fortunately, Shailaja’s parents were not about to simply give away their
only daughter, no matter how much they needed the Prithian Emperor’s good
will. Cleron was told to return when
Shailaja achieved womanhood, a promise Cleron was unable to keep until his
current visit. War with his southern
neighbours had kept him busy for the next five years leading Jarita and Hari to
believe that he had forgotten all about the request regarding their daughter.
However, this latest “hunting” trip proved that
was not so. The Hasta had received word
that Cleron was planning another visit; and this time he was hunting more than
just wild game.
His intentions could not have been more obvious,
nor could the careful inquiries of the Prithian ambassador been more odious. Even as discreet as most ambassadors were
inclined to be, he could not hide the fact that Shailaja’s virtue was the focus
of his interest. It was an investigation
that her parents and particularly her protective older brothers found most
invasive. Shailaja had five older
brothers, and needed their protection about as much as an ice bear needs more
fur; but it was there, nevertheless and was perhaps another factor in
Shailaja’s purity. It was also a source
of considerable irritation to Shailaja that she could not show interest in any
member of the opposite sex without having that unlucky warrior subjected to
severe scrutiny, to the point where she had almost given up any hope that she
might enjoy conjugal relations until she was past the age of bonding.
However, it went a bit farther than that. Shailaja had a natural reluctance to commit
herself to another; so much so that her parents became concerned that she might
be ill. At age sixteen she had been summoned
by her parents and ordered to submit to the attentions of a healer. In Kaltara healers were held in high regard,
not just for their medical qualities, but also because of their ability to
intercede with the gods.
The healer was an elderly woman called Usha,
and after a quick introduction she had ordered Shailaja to strip in front of
her parents, a seemingly common request of all healers, who seem unable to deal
with the even the smallest medical problems without first gazing upon naked
flesh. However, in Kaltara, the request was
not as unusual as it might seem.
Shailaja felt not the slightest discomfort, having frequently bathed
with her parents as was the custom of her people. She was unashamed of her body and readily set
aside her clothing and stood waiting her inspection. She was then subjected to the usual poking,
prodding, and fondling that all healers seem to enjoy, before Usha finally
finished and pronounced her verdict.
“I have never seen a healthier young woman,” Usha
stated. “In fact she is truly
magnificent and will make fine breeding stock whenever she is ready.” The healer reached out and touched Shailaja’s
left nipple eliciting a surprised gasp from the young woman. “Look how it rises to so light a touch. She will prove very willing once she makes up
her mind.”
Shailaja had blushed in anger and mortification
at these words, a peculiar reaction of hers that that frequently took her unaware
and which she found more than a little irritating. It began in her face and quickly spread to
her neck, chest, and breasts, until it finally reached her belly. It was a very noticeable reaction, causing
her to turn quite pink in colour and was perhaps made even worse by the fact that
she found it so annoying. To cover her
discomfort she quickly donned her clothing while Usha elaborated.
“She is quite normal in all respects relating
to primal needs. In fact the first man
to breach her will have a most enjoyable time of it as her loins are very well
muscled. However, the fuel that
generates the need to mate does not yet burn.
One day very soon it will ignite, but it cannot be hurried. All things come in time and when it comes to
Shailaja it will be most powerful.”
At this pronouncement both parents had seemed
pleased and relieved. Shailaja was considerably
less so, not having believed there was anything wrong with her in the first
place. She had frequently felt strong
attraction to certain males, but they had always been much older than her and
engaged with women of their own. As a
result she had simply waited, forcing down the urge to simply mate with
anyone.
Kaltarans were very open about matters of the
body and once they had matured, young men and women were left to their own
judgement as to what was right and wrong.
In Shailaja’s case it was simply a matter that she was more particular
as to who should be the first to share her bed.
The freedom to choose their bedmates and bondmates was considered the
right of all Kaltarans and only under the most unusual circumstances did anyone
bond with another according to the wishes of anyone else. One such circumstance might be that of a union
that would strengthen a prominent or wealthy family. Even then such unions were not usually
contracted without the consent of those chosen to marry unless it was deemed
necessary to overlook the wishes of the proposed bondmates. Shailaja, however, had never heard of such an
exception during her short life. Nor
were her parents quite so ready to deny Kaltaran custom simply because Cleron
desired it, as her mother had emphasized.
It hardly needed explaining that the romantic notions of a girl of eighteen
springs were poorly served by the notion of bonding with someone like Cleron,
not to mention the fact that Shailaja had not remained unbreached merely to
serve the commercial interests of Kaltaran merchants. She was even less pleased as she sat herself
at the table of honour to discover that her father had already discussed the
matter with Cleron.
As was proper Shailaja was seated among her brothers
at a place just below where Cleron and her parents sat. She could feel Cleron’s eyes upon her when her
father leaned toward her and spoke quietly.
Hari’s words were not intended to carry beyond
the table and with the noise in the Great Hall generated by several hundred
Kaltaran warriors his aim was easily achieved.
“His exalted majesty, Emperor Cleron has a most interesting proposal
involving you, Shailaja, and I thought that you should hear of it as it
concerns you most deeply.”
Warned by her mother, and knowing that her
father was only doing what was required of him, Shailaja still felt a chill run
down her spine as the proposal was made.
Cleron leaned toward her, his dark eyes fixed upon her face. “As you are no doubt well aware,” he began,
“Kaltara has long sought closer ties with Prithia, particularly in the area of
trade.” He glanced toward my
parents. “The Hasta have been most
persuasive in pointing out the merits of such an agreement and I have been
persuaded that such an accord is indeed in my interests. However, I am also well aware of the fact
that such pacts are often difficult to keep unless cemented by bonds stronger
than mere words on paper.”
Shailaja listened, her throat tightening and
her stomach clenching as Cleron slowly got to the point. When he finally did she wished that he had gone
on longer.
He dropped his eyes to her breasts as he
continued. Shailaja’s outfit was designed
to draw the eye, and it certainly drew Cleron’s.
“The Hasta,” Cleron went on, “have agreed with
me that a treaty would be best secured through marriage, the only problem being
that among your people the finding of a suitable consort is more difficult than
among mine. However, I have been assured
that in addition to your remarkable beauty you are also extremely
virtuous. It needs only the approval of
my physician to determine whether or not this is indeed the case. In that case our betrothal may be announced
and the union can proceed.”
It would have been a gross understatement to
say that Shailaja was not pleased by the proposal. She flushed to the roots of her hair and the
tips of her breasts, a shade Cleron no doubt found most becoming. But he found her words much less so as she
turned to her parents. “Am I to have no
say in this matter?”
“You have all of the say in this matter,” her
father smiled reassuringly.
Cleron seemed taken by surprise. “What is this?” he growled, his brows
knitting menacingly. “I thought it was
agreed.”
“What was agreed,” Jarita said soothingly, “was
that we would broach your proposal to Shailaja.
That we have done, and now it is her decision.”
“But I thought you ruled Kaltara,” Cleron
protested. He was clearly displeased,
perhaps guessing the way events were going to end. “Surely you do not allow a woman, and a mere
girl at that, to overturn the ruling of her parents and rulers.”
“We are the Hasta,” her father explained
patiently, “the War Leaders of Kaltara, and as such occupy an important
position, but we do not rule. We lead in
times of war and currently we are at war with no one.”
“If this was Prithia this girl, would be told,
not asked, what her place was to be.”
Cleron spat the words, placing special emphasis on the word ‘girl,’ but
her parents were unperturbed.
“But this is not Prithia,” her mother
answered. “All are held equal here
whether they be man or woman. And it is
Shailaja’s decision to make, not ours.
Now will you hear her answer or no?”
Cleron turned almost as red as Shailaja had
been. Grinding his teeth he forced out
an answer. “I will hear her. But it will be the last time.”
The last part of Cleron’s answer was stated in
so threatening a tone that Shailaja had little doubt of what his reaction would
be if she refused, but it had also confirmed her opinion of him. She would not be bound to any man who would
seek to bind her to him in the chains of a slave. She remembered that Cleron had already
distinguished himself by murdering two of his wives and her decision was an
easy one.
Shailaja had always been encouraged to be
forthright in her views, bluntness of
speech being a Kaltaran trait, and she was fully a Kaltaran in that regard. “My lord emperor,” she said, her voice steady
and loud enough to be heard by most persons in the hall after the sudden hush
that had fallen over it. “I am but a
simple warrior and would be poorly suited to serve as co-ruler of Prithia. It is a land I know little of and I fear I
would not meet your expectations. As a
result I decline this honour,” Shailaja had risen as she spoke and stood proudly,
knowing full well that the eye of every man and woman in the hall was upon her
at that moment, and that her words were clearly audible to all.
If her parents were surprised it was only at
her diplomatic tone, especially considering the hotness of their daughter’s
temperament and the stubborn streak of character she had displayed all of her
life. Her father had once commented that
she had a disposition to match the colour of her hair and the tact of a bull
walrus in pursuit of cows. She had given
her answer in front of a hall full of witnesses and by custom it should have
been allowed to stand. But what they
probably found most amusing and interesting was the implication in her reply
that she would be co-ruler of Prithia; an offer Cleron had clearly not
intended.
Cleron, however, was less amused and he was not
about to allow either Kaltaran tradition or the desires of a girl of eighteen
summers to stand in the way of his desires.
He lunged to his feet, his drinking horn clasped in his fist and
bellowed in outrage. “What is this? This slip of a girl refuses my offer? She should have the whip applied to her for
such insolence.”
To her mother’s credit it was she who answered.
“Sit down, sir. You are a guest in my hall and you will abide
by Kaltaran customs.” Unfortunately,
this seemed only to enrage Cleron further.
“I will not remain in a land that is ruled by
women and where all men seem to have been gelded.”
At this insult Shailaja’s fiery temper finally
erupted. Glaring at the Prithian emperor
she took a step toward him, ignoring the fact that she was unarmed except for
her dagger and that he, as emperor of Prithia , had been allowed to keep his
sword. “It is you who will be gelded if
you dare to step beyond the protection of your bodyguard. I will teach you what it means to insult a
warrior of Kaltara.”
Cleron stared in disbelief, seemingly astounded
that he was being challenged by a woman; and a “slip of a girl,” at that. But by this time Shailaja’s father was on his
feet as Cleron’s comment was a slur upon his manhood and that of every man in
Kaltara. However, Hari directed his
anger not at Cleron but at his daughter.
“Sit down, Shailaja; the Emperor is a guest in our halls and is under
our protection.”
About this time Cleron, suddenly seemed to
realize that that he was surrounded by what were the most formidable warriors in
all Vedra and that the six members of his bodyguard would have had little
chance against them. Unwilling to lose
face he suddenly seemed to gain control.
He turned to Hari and Jarita and bowed.
“Forgive me,” he said, calmly. “In
my disappointment at being refused I forgot who I am. I apologize for this disturbance in your
hall. Let the banquet continue. Tomorrow we will hunt.”
The last sentence was delivered with an almost triumphant
air and heard with some sense of relief and not a little amazement from the
assembled warriors and dignitaries.
Cleron was not known for his forgiving nature and no one had ever known
him to apologize for anything. In fact
throughout his violent life he had shown a level of ruthlessness and
vengefulness unrivalled in all of Vedra.
Jarita, however, bowed and smiled at these
words, obviously willing to take advantage of the Emperor’s uncharacteristic
contrition. “We receive the Emperor’s words with
pleasure. Let the banquet proceed and
tomorrow we will hunt.”
To everyone’s relief, especially Shailaja’s, the
matter seemed over. Cleron had asked and
been refused. By Kaltaran law and custom
the subject was settled. Even more
surprising the Emperor seemed to have accepted the decision. Shailaja, however was still somewhat nettled
at being referred to as a “slip of a girl.”
Tomorrow when the hunt began she would remain in the Great Hall. Cleron might enjoy the hunt, but it would be
without her.
However, her resolution lasted only until she
once again spoke with her mother. “Nonsense,”
Jarita said sternly. “Your absence would
be seen as a clear affront to the Emperor.
I am quite surprised that he allowed your rejection of his proposal to
pass so calmly. I suspect that we have
not yet heard the last of it and have no intention of allowing your absence
from the hunt to give him a chance to claim that he has received further
insult.”
“It was my right to refuse him,” Shailaja said,
angrily. “There was no insult under our
laws.”
“Indeed it was your right,” Jarita
replied. “Just as it is my right to
require that you be a part of the hunt tomorrow.”
“As you wish, mother,” Shailaja agreed. “I will be there. But I do hope the matter is finished.”
“As do I,” her mother smiled. “Now we should retire. Dawn will come early, and it has already been
a long night. You and I need to get our
beauty sleep.”
Sleep was something Shailaja could agree
with. Although she had engaged in no
real physical activity, the banquet had been emotionally exhausting and it had
gone on long after her refusal of Cleron’s offer. Unable to leave the high table without insulting
the Emperor, she had been forced to watch as Cleron and his retinue had slowly
drunk themselves insensible along with many of her countrymen. It reaffirmed her decision to refuse Cleron’s
offer, and upon reaching her small room, she quickly stripped for sleep and
sought her cot. Morning would find her
soon enough. She would join the hunt and
then with any luck she would be rid of Cleron forever.
WIZARD'S LAIR MAIN PAGE L'ESPION'S STORY PAGE NEXT CHAPTER