Agent in Distress Ch. 03

Lana opened her eyes, to see the strong Dellune sun beaming in through her window. She sat up and immediately regretted it, feeling her head throb as if a tiny battlecruiser were bombarding her from the inside. Some warrior I am, she thought. Lana clamped down her mental shield, which helped a little. She needed some liquid in her..

With a flash, her memory returned. The drinking, the wonderful meal, being carried by powerful arms. Lana gasped. "Oh dear!" Panicking, she reached down under the covers, and then she relaxed. Her clothing was in order, unmolested. Warrick had been a gentleman. She smiled, thinking of the powerful but kind warrior, probably having a laugh right now at her poor drinking ability.

She rotated in the large soft bed and put her feet on the floor. Someone had left a warm pair of furry moccasins by her bed, and then her eyes beamed as she saw the plate of food by her bed table. A magnificently colorful array of freshly cut fruit. What had they called it? Somarian fruit? There was also a tasty strip of meat, and fresh warm bread. She lifted the cup and took a sip, to find a familiar taste. It must have been the fruit in juice form. Lana realized she was starving - using telepathy always made her ravenous. Pulling her hair back over her shoulders and tying it with her hair band, she lifted the plate onto the bed and dug in. The Somarian fruit was addictive, she thought, she couldn't get enough. Halfway through her meal she decided to check if the wedges of Somarian fruit were having an effect on her abilities. Lana opened her mental shield, and nearly cried out at the flood of strong visions that rushed into her mind. She sensed a guard outside her door, sleepy and bored. Further out she sensed the meek minds of a couple of servants, and further still . . . Max Veers and Lamare were speaking with someone . . . who returned no mental image. That must have been Warrick.

Lana couldn't believe what was happening. The Dellune men had said the fruit provided visions to their oracles, and it was doing the same for Lana. She wondered if it was again augmenting her other powers. She looked about the room for something heavy. The dresser was heavy oak, she doubted even Warrick could lift it easily. She reached out with her mind . . . and the dresser began to float upwards with little effort. Lana smiled in glee - such a heavy object normally required intense effort and concentration. This morning she could lift it easily, like lifting a stone from the garden.

Thinking of the stone garden brought back other memories . . . Warrick's skilled hands exploring her body. Lana gasped suddenly as she felt a burst of pleasure in her belly that made her clench her thighs reflexively. The dresser crashed to the floor. She stood suddenly, confused by the sudden flood of arousal seemingly from nowhere. Her back was sore, so she stretched luxuriously, her arms high above her head. Her hands drifted down to touch the back of her neck, in the position that Warrick had placed them the night before. Lana closed her eyes, imagining his hands trailing down again between her breasts.

"Mmm . . ." she murmured, the sensual memories igniting warmth in her belly. She let her hands drift down from her neck, down her chest, to trail over her breasts. "Oh," she exclaimed in surprise. Her nipples were erect, pressing against the white material of her top when her fingers touched them. She hadn't realized how aroused she was. Nor could she believe how sensitive her nipples were, as they swelled to her own touch.

With a rush of guilt, Lana snapped out of her fantasizing. Touching herself was strictly forbidden at the Institute, for it led to lascivious behavior. "Oh dear," she said out loud. "I need to meditate, I skipped it last night!" At the Institute, Lana did a lot of meditating, since she couldn't seem to stop fantasizing. Sitting on the bed, Lana put her heels together and pulled them toward her, resting her upturned palms on each knee. She closed her eyes and began her meditation exercises. After a moment, she realized she was having trouble concentrating, not least because of that strange warmth in her belly. Her mind flashed suddenly to Warrick's kiss the night before, and then her eyes popped open as she felt a twinge of fire between her thighs. Alarmed, she reached down, inserting a finger inside her panties. "Oh no!" she gasped, withdrawing her finger as if stung, then she looked about for a towel with which to wipe the dew from her finger.

Lana had never felt such powerful arousal from mere fantasizing, and she wondered if her mind was affecting her, amplified by the fruit. Then again she'd never had a real live barbarian warrior to fantasize about. The ones in books just didn't compare to the real thing, she found. Lana couldn't dare ask the Dellune men about the fruit. Instead, Lana clamped down her mental shield, hoping that might protect her. Confused, she decided to give up on meditating and went to take a bath.

An hour later, Lana was fresh from a warm bath, dressed in the outfit they had left for her. It was a lovely flowing pale blue dress that left bare her arms and the sides of her thighs. Like every Dellune dress she had seen, it clung to her curves, emphasizing rather than hiding them like most of her own wardrobe. At least it wasn't sheer, for they'd given her no bra to wear. Did the Dellune women even wear bras? She wasn't sure. Lana was surprised to find that she actually liked the way she looked in the dress, and she'd admired herself in the mirror for more than a few moments. Without air dryers for her hair, she spent a minute trying to arrange her damp hair. She needed Nika's expertise, her hair looked a mess. Afterwards, chastising herself for her vanity, she ran through her Arbiter concentration routines, to clear her mind. She had a big day ahead of her.

Sometime later, she received a knock on her chamber door. It was Warrick, dressed in some sort of official warrior's uniform. She smiled shyly as his eyes widened, taking in the sight of her pretty dress.

"Why, Lady Torina, you look absolutely stunning," he said, with what she took to be sincere admiration. "I look forward to the envious stares!"

Lana giggled, then stopped herself. Arbiters don't giggle! she told herself.

"You are too kind," she replied seriously, trying to summon her best negotiating voice. "You look very handsome yourself." Then she grinned, her good spirits overwhelming her composure. "And thank you for taking care of me, and being a gentleman last night."

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "Who says I was a gentleman?" he replied. Then when he saw her gaping at him, he grinned and winked at her. "I admit some intriguing thoughts did cross my mind." Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "But I'd prefer to take advantage of you when you are clear headed."

Lana felt her cheeks redden, as they often did around this man. She wanted to punch him again, but her hand was still sore from the last time. And this time, she felt a slight heated sensation deep in her center, just like in the morning before her bath. She looked at the warrior gazing down at her, grateful he was not the Telepath.

"Well now, let's go put your skills to the test, shall we?" replied Warrick, offering his elbow for her to do . . . she didn't know. Warrick sighed, and reached out to put her hand through the crook of his elbow. Lana chuckled, for she felt a bit like a child holding onto an adult, as they walked through the halls.

Eventually they came across Max Veers. Lamare was speaking to him. "Ambassador, I'm afraid that my lord has been detained a bit longer than expected, so we will have a short wait." He turned and moved until he was standing in front of Lana. "Miss Torina, my lord would like to meet before you start your journey, so we have some time to occupy? Would you like Warrick to give you a personal tour?"

Lana replied, "Yes, I'd love a tour." She tried to hide her eagerness, but her fascination with primitive warrior societies overcame her agent training. "I must admit, I have a fascination with primitive cultures." Lana paled. Had she just said that?

Warrick laughed, the deep resonating sound reminding her of some wild animal she'd seen in hologram. "Is that so? Excellent, I hope you find our culture as primitive as you'd hoped."

She felt her cheeks redden. "Oh, I . . . I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean . . ."

"No offense taken, milady," comforted Warrick with a grin. "Come, follow me, and I will show you how we barbarians live." His booming laughter echoed in the hall as a chastised Lana walked quickly to keep up. Max hustled along her side, giving her a disapproving look. Lana grimaced, reminding herself to watch her tongue around these people. Quickly she forgot about her tongue, as her jaw dropped at the splendor of Lord Khan's palace. Lana found herself gazing upward at the ceilings that stretch impossibly high. Hand-woven tapestries adorned the walls, and a painted mural stretched across the vast ceiling of the next hall, depicting a glorious battle, with men on magnificent four-legged armor-covered beasts doing battle.

Truly a warrior culture, she thought. It was no surprise then that their first stop turned out to be a training hall of some sort, with wooden and steel weapons lining the walls, and the floors covered in what looked like smooth straw mats. Lana quickly realized why they were here.

"I've an idea," announced Warrick, as if it had just come to him. "How about a demonstration from your young swords . . . woman? I am most anxious to see how an Arbiter performs in battle!"

Lana felt her stomach drop. He couldn't be serious, she was their guest, and a diplomat. Calm, I must be calm! she thought. Max seemed surprised as well. "Ah, Master Warrick, I don't think . . . ."

"Nonsense!" boomed the warrior, his hand on the hilt of his massive sword making both of his guests a bit nervous. "I insist, I would see how your Arbiter handles herself against one of our primitive Dellune warriors."

Lana was outwardly the picture of calm despite her insides turning over. She turned to Max, and she could see immediately that he had caved.

"Uhh, Lady Torina . . . would, err, would you mind putting on a short demonstration for our hosts?"

Lana frowned. "Max, my presence here should be as secret as possible. Nikos could have spies here!" she whispered. "I don't think it's a good idea for me to be drawing attention to myself."

Warrick answered her concerns. "No worries, milady. This is the personal training room of Lord Khan's personal guard. Only his closest inner circle is allowed in here. That man there is Lamare's best man," he said, pointing to the warrior whirling a blade by the far wall. "He can be trusted to keep a secret."

Lana knew caution was one thing, but to show fear would be very damaging, so she answered simply. "Of course Master Warrick, I would be happy to demonstrate. Unfortunately I surrendered my weapon at the gates yesterday . . . and I haven't seen it since."

Warrick frowned. "You gave up your weapon?" he asked, incredulous. "A Dellune warrior would never do such a thing." He paused to think, and smiled. "Perhaps this is a behavior characteristic of female warriors?"

Lana couldn't stop herself from scowling. She knew she shouldn't have listened to the idiot Veers. No matter, she was an Arbiter, or almost, she could make do. "An agent's mind is her best weapon," she answered with a glint in her eye. "Very well, Warrick, what did you have in mind?"

Warrick clapped his hands in approval. He called over to the man, who was now limbering up along the far wall with two of his cohorts. He was watching Warrick with mild interest, perhaps wondering about his guests.

"Kor, have you trained yet today? How about a little sparring session."

"No sir," replied the man, grinning. "I'd be happy to put on a show for your guests. Maybe I'll even beat you." He was a large man, lithe, muscle-bound and confident.

Warrick laughed, shaking his head. "No, no, not with me, I'd like you to fight our guest."

The warrior looked first at the heavy-set Max, then at the slender girl in the blue dress, then back to Max. His confusion was apparent.

"Not me!" squeaked Max, looking nervous.

Warrick was enjoying the moment, but he spoke up finally. "Kor, allow me to introduce Lady Lana Torina, Arbiter of the Alliance. She's the woman, in case that wasn't clear."

"Arbiter, is that some sort of diplomat?" said the large man, looking at Lana skeptically. "You want me to fight a woman."

"And why not?" said Warrick. "Afraid you might lose? Does it not seem odd she is unafraid to face you?"

Kor smiled and shrugged. "Our females know their place. I take it she is not one of ours?"

Lana bristled, her eyes turning dark. She didn't like the way this man looked at her, and she wanted to teach him a lesson. Without a word, she strode to the middle of the room, then turned to face the man named Kor.

The man looked at her curiously, then shrugged finally, bowing to Warrick, and went to the wall to pull out a wooden long sword, obviously used for sparring. Then he moved to the center of the room, opposite Lana. The man bowed his head, his face a cruel grin. Clearly he was going to enjoy teaching the girl a lesson.

The Arbiter appeared remarkably calm to her spectators, standing in front of the much larger man with her hands clasped in front of her. Kor switched the sword to his left hand, and then lunged forward, reaching for the girl's head. Only when he got there, the girl was gone, spinning away and lashing out with her leg to strike the man in the side. The blow was blunted by his armor, but the man coughed and doubled over a bit before righting himself.

"Slippery little devil, isn't she?" chuckled Warrick, his throaty laughter filling the large room. "Come now Kor, don't patronize our guest, give her a real fight."

The man's grin was gone, replaced by anger, as he glared at the girl. This time he hefted the wooden sword, and charged with surprising quickness for his size, lunging with the sword to try to trip up his opponent. But Lana deftly stepped forward and spun inside his arc, grasping his sword just above his hands. The guard was sent spinning away, and he rolled to the ground, coming up to see the girl standing there holding his sword, her blue dress swirling before settling down.

With a rumbling growl, the man ran to the wall, to retrieve another wooden sword, and then a smiling Warrick was gesturing to the other two men. In seconds, Lana found herself surrounded by three powerful men, each with wooden swords and angry expressions on their faces. Clearly they didn't like to be shown up by a pretty female a fraction of their size. The one called Kor spoke.

"Girl, you're quick, I'll give you that. But you're no match for three Dellune warriors. Surrender now, and maybe we'll only give you a spanking." The other two equally large men laughed as they circled the girl like hungry predators. The game was no longer simple, with three now alert opponents. Lana thought back to her grizzled old combat instructor. Hide your strength, conceal your power, the old man used to say. Only show your enemy what you must, in order to defeat him. She hoped not to have to use any of the telepathic powers she'd been practicing, but with three large enemies and only a wooden sword, she might have no choice.

Then the men attacked, moving forward swinging. Crack! Lana blocked the first swing, its power ringing through her arms - damn but he was strong! she thought. It was immediately clear that Lana would need to use her telepathic powers simply to keep the sword from being ripped out of her hands. Much like telepathically moving a box, the girl used her mind to help move her sword, and to give it strength to absorb their powerful blows. She had trained in the technique extensively with the few other students who also favored the sword, but these Dellune warriors seemed so much stronger than the men and women she usually sparred with.

Lana spun and rolled away from the men, but they were quick, and they set upon her. The girl dodged with startling speed between and beneath their attacks, her dress flowing about her like a dancer's costume. Two of them pressed on, driving her back toward the third man, who was able to grab her by the pony tail. The young agent spun and rolled, yelping in pain as she ripped her hair from his grip, coming up in her defensive stance.

It was time to go on the offensive. She attacked the nearest guard like a blur, spinning past his attempted block to strike him in the leg. The guard yowled and fell to one knee, but before she could finish him the other two pressed in with increased fury. She lunged, catching one in the upper chest, drawing a gasp, and striking the other in the shoulder. But they kept coming, furious and aggressive, determined to put the female in her place. She had chosen not to enhance her blows, for fear of injuring them, but while she was strong for a woman, these men seemed to shrug off her blows and keep coming.

Lana found it took all her concentration to block and move to avoid being cornered, all the while augmenting her sword with her mind. She connected repeatedly with her attackers, striking arms, legs, chest. Yet the powerful men seemed accustomed to absorbing hits from the wooden practice sword, and like wounding a bear, her strikes seemed to anger them. Another minute passed and she was getting tired, physically and mentally. Each powerful strike by the warriors drained the strength from her arms as she blocked; the wooden sword transferring all the energy into her forearms. She would have to escalate this fight or she risked dropping from exhaustion.

The first man was lunging for her, swinging downward, and the girl leapt over his sword, spinning over his head, and bringing her sword down. A loud clang as she knocked his helmet clean off his head, sending the soldier sprawling unconscious. A blur to those watching, she rolled again as another sword smacked into the floor where she'd landed. Her mind was finely attuned to everything around her, calmly guiding her movements.

Behind her she sensed an attack, and she brought up her sword behind her head, blocking the attack neatly, while she lunged her right leg backwards, striking the man in the groin. As the stricken man grabbed his privates in pain, he managed to grab her sword in his powerful grip. Distracted, Lana didn't see the 3rd guard whip his sword down to strike the back of her knees. Crying out at the crippling pain, she dropped to her knees, her right hand still fighting to wrest the sword from the other warrior's hand. She turned to her left to see the last man winding back to strike her, and without thinking she brought her left hand up and pointed it at his chest, palm first. The warrior flew up and back across the room to smack against the stone wall with a sickening crunch, falling in a heap. She spun in one fluid motion, her kick catching the chin of the kneeling guard and sending him sprawling.

Landing on her feet, Lana looked in shock at what she had done. She'd thrown the man like he was a child's doll, and she stared at her hand as if she didn't recognize it. Lana turned back to the second man, but he was getting to his feet, still holding his groin. Her head hurt, the pain having grown during the fight, was now spiking in intensity after she'd thrown the soldier. She held her free hand to her head, for the pain threatened to split her head in two. Then just as suddenly, the pain began to subside. Lana dropped the sword and dashed to the side of the crumpled third man, ignoring the intense pain in the back of her legs; she knelt over him to feel his pulse.

He was breathing, but what if his back were broken? Calming her racing heart, Lana placed her hand on his chest, reaching out with her mind. She sensed great pain, but it was already subsiding. The man was unconscious, but he would survive, hopefully undamaged. Perhaps a few broken ribs was all. In fact . . . she reached out with her mind, to feel his body, as a doctor might examine a patient, only using her mind. It was a technique only rumored in the halls of the Institute, yet at that moment, Lana somehow thought she could do it. Her mind floated inside him, until she could see that his back was undamaged, but he had a single fractured rib, or so she guessed from the unfamiliar imagery she was reading from the injured man's mind. Lana breathed a sigh of relief and knelt down on the straw mat, exhausted. She was not used to using her abilities in this way for so long and so intensely, it drained her. Stupid she thought, she could have handled the third warrior without resorting to telepathy, and then having to mentally examine the poor man - now she was mentally drained, and it would take hours to recover to full strength.