Beloved of Ashura: Learning to Fly

"Five!" Rayven screamed. "For you, Ashura!" Her voice was an unworldly screech. While the dead man hindered his comrade, she attacked the other warrior. The strokes of her sword forced him back. She sensed the other one coming free and moving to join the fight and batted the sword of the first wide. While there was an opening, she sliced and opened up a cut on the inside of his arm. Spinning, she met the downward stroke of the other man's sword. As he pressed hard to try to force her sword down, his glaring face leaned in towards her. It was close enough that the punch with her brass knuckles broke his nose. He screamed and stepped backwards, and his sword slid off her blade. She didn't have time for anything fancy. A simple jab into his stomach added a shriek to the night air.

Yanking hard, she pulled the blade free, but not in time to avoid taking a hard stroke to the arm from the first warrior. It wasn't enough to slice through her armor, but it hurt like hell. There would be a huge bruise there in the morning, and it would make it hard for her to swing with her full force. Turning to face him, she screamed in fury.

"Six!"

The last warrior was bigger than she was but nothing like Fjurto. He too was weakened already from the cut to his sword arm. Blood dripped down his arm and fell from his elbow. He couldn't believe that a woman had killed six of his comrades. Despite the blow to her arm, she held her sword steady. He wished that he could take the chance to switch hands. It was hard now to hold up his sword. She advanced on him, her face covered with streaks of blood that made her look like a banshee. Each swing of her sword against his caused a shooting pain to run through his arm.

"I'm going to lose," he thought, right before he heard someone starting to murmur. "The Mage!" he thought with sudden hope. Despite his distrust of battle magic, he never heard anything more welcome. "Let the bitch deal with that," he thought. Suddenly she was like a wildcat, slicing at him with a speed he couldn't match. When her sword sliced across his belly, he thought she missed at first. It was only when he tripped on his intestines that he realized his mistake. The pain took away even that thought. He lost consciousness, never to regain it.

The fight had gone so quickly that it was only now that the Mage had out his totems and could cast his spells. There was no time for subtlety. He would use the lightning spell and blast her. He continued praying to Zoshur, invoking his name in order to let his lightning power flow through him. He smiled as the traitorous Onjani woman turned to face him, screaming the number seven. Soon, she would feel the power of the Lightning God.

He suddenly stumbled in his prayer. "The power? Where is it?" he said in an astonished voice. Never before had the power not instantly been with him. It was as if his god had abandoned him.

"He has," a rich voice said behind him. "He sends his apologies."

Turning, he saw a beautiful woman bathed in golden light. Her face shone with regret.

"My brother knows you are a devoted follower and deserve better, but we agreed long ago not to interfere with each other's avatar. You have the misfortune to meet mine," she said. "Don't worry. It will be quick."

The Mage felt the presence of the woman behind him. Her arm went around him and pulled him against her body. Even under the armor, he felt the curves that proved her sex. His hand dropped down to grasp at his dagger, but her hand was already there. She slipped it out of his sheath.

"Don't struggle," she whispered. "Our gods want this to be painless." Her voice was sympathetic, understanding how powerless one could be against the divine. Her calm eyes met those of her goddess, giving her homage.

For another moment, the Mage struggled against his fate but she was too strong. His arms went limp and he sagged against her, panting as he surrendered. He began to say another prayer, this time one without power in the mortal world. It was opening the way to the next world. He said it many times on many battlefields. This time it was for himself and he could feel the power flow through him again. Zoshur was with him again. As he felt the blade touch his neck, he added an additional prayer that he did his duty in keeping his dagger sharp.

He had. The blade sliced easily through his skin with hardly any pain. He felt his blood pouring out, running down his body. Within moments, he felt a warmth enveloping him and then his god was there before him, holding out his hands in welcome. Without any regrets, he stepped forward and left behind the shell of his body.

Rayven gently laid the body of the Mage down. She knew how fortunate she was. Another god wouldn't have cared whether Ashura's avatar lived or died, but Zoshur loved his sister more than any other thing. He made the pledge to leave her avatar alone eons ago, and she returned the pledge in gratitude.

Her heart beat hard and she felt the pain in her arm. She moved it slightly and decided that it wasn't any worse than she thought. The feeling of being alive was powerful, especially now when she felt like living was more important to her.

"Goddess, I offer my victory to you," she said aloud. Rayven knew the victory was one that she had won and was worthy of being offered. Even though at the end, it was Zoshur who prevented the Lightning spell, she killed the first seven before the gods intervened. The last didn't change what she had done. Ashura knew that as well. Although she was gone now, she clearly had watched the battle.

A moan reminded her that she was counting some as killed a little too soon. Unlike the other day, she didn't take time to comfort the two that were still alive. The one with the slice to his face wasn't even aware she was there as she slit his throat.

The warrior who she stabbed in the gut was on his back, unable to move without unbelievable pain. In the dark, she hadn't recognized him, but it was the ranger from the village. He watched the whole fight like that, helpless as she killed each of his comrades. He stared at her as she approached with her sword in hand.

"I underestimated you," he said, gasping at the pain.

"I counted on that," Rayven said to him as she lifted her sword. As quick as the stab to his gut was, the brutal jab into his throat was faster and with more force. He was dead before she pulled it out, using her foot on his chest for leverage.

With the ease of an experienced campaigner, she went through the camp taking everything of value that she could find. She stripped the dead of their armor and tied it onto one of their horses. Being warhorses, they were used to the smell of blood. She also took anything that might identify the dead. Hopefully it would be a long time before they were found, and by then the scavengers that she heard already gathering in the brush would have torn apart the bodies. That should be enough to hide any clues as to who they were and how they died.

The pursuers left their horses ready to ride. The saddles clearly marked them as the Duke's men, having his insignia emblazoned on them. She would find a river or lake to toss them in and then let the horses go. The four they had were already as many as they could manage. More would just attract attention. Anything else that might connect them to the Duke would be throw into the lake as well. They would disappear without leaving any clues for anyone to follow.

Mounting one of the horses, she rode off in the direction of where she left Dove.

The young woman sat in in front of their horses trying not to think about what was happening to Rayven. She had confidence in her but the challenge of facing eight made her fear for her lover. What would she do if the worst happened? She looked down at the dagger on the ground. It was sharp; she'd found that out testing it with her thumb. It still throbbed a little from the slice down the middle of it.

Her sense of time was distorted. It seemed like Rayven had been gone for a very long time, but it might only have been half an hour. They stopped some distance from their pursuers, so even getting there would take some time. Rayven told her not to worry unless she wasn't back by dawn. In that case, she was to take two horses and just ride west as fast as she could.

Dove glanced down at the dagger again. She remembered how Rayven sliced the dying man's throat at the end of the fight by the castle, and how quickly he was gone. It didn't even look like it hurt much. "Could I do that to myself?" she wondered. She wasn't certain. She knew she didn't want to.

"It would mean she's dead," she thought. That bothered her more than the idea of ending her life, though she didn't seek death either. "If I'd just been captured in the beginning, I think I would have accepted it as my fate. Being with her has changed me. I won't be a prisoner!" Seeing how freely Rayven lived her life showed her that she could not accept being powerless. "I'll make my choices," she thought. In her mind, she could see Rayven smiling in approval.

"Goddess, I wish I knew what was happening!" she said aloud. She had a blanket wrapped around her and she pulled it tighter. "I wish it was her arms," she told herself.

As worried as she was, it was the end of a long day. Drowsiness crept over her without her realizing it. She began to nod a little. The night was quieter than normal. Even the horses next to her made little noise. She drifted in and out of sleep, further destroying any sense of time's passage.

When she woke, it was the vibration that did it. There was a little rumble in the ground that startled her awake. She was uncertain what it was until she heard the approach of horses.

"Oh Goddess! They're coming," she gasped. The unthinkable happened and Rayven lost and was likely killed. Standing up, she grabbed the dagger as she came to her feet. Bitter tears ran down her cheeks as she held it outwards in the direction of the approaching horsemen. They were getting closer. "I don't have much time," she thought.

As the sound of the horses slowed, she reversed the blade. "I'll meet you on the other side, my Mistress," she whispered, as she brought the blade up to her neck. She started to press down.

"Dove? My little Dove? It's me!" Rayven's voice came clearly through the night air.

At first, Dove kept the knife against her neck, ignoring the tiny nick that oozed a drop of blood. "Is this a trick? All those horse? Are they forcing her to call for me?" she wondered. A moment later, she dropped the dagger to the ground. "Never," she whispered. "She'd never betray me." She knew that with a certainty that could not be shaken.

Running in the direction of Rayven's voice, she called back. "I'm here, Mistress!" She burst into the clearing where the other woman stood. "Oh Ashura, thank you! Mistress!" she cried out. At full speed, she leapt at Rayven who awkwardly caught her. With her arms and legs wrapped around her lover, Dove kissed her hard. Tears still streamed down her face, but now they were from joy. She missed entirely the involuntary spasm of pain on Rayven's face.

That wasn't a deterrent for Rayven either. Although her injured arm made it hard to hold Dove, she managed. The feeling of her lithe body was wonderful. Keeping her safe was why she went into the fight.

"Oh Mistress, I was so worried. I love you," Dove said. "I love you!" She kept kissing her.

Squeezing her as tight as she could, Rayven returned every kiss. As the pace slowed down, she smiled at her. "I love you too, my little Dove. I'll always keep you safe." Dove shifted, putting more weight on her injured arm. Rayven couldn't stop the groan that provoked.

Slipping down from her arms, Dove looked concerned. "Are you hurt, Mistress?" For the first time, she noticed the blood covering her. "Are you bleeding?" she asked with a rising pitch that betrayed her sudden worry.

"I'm fine, my little Dove. It's just a bruise on my arm. And no, I don't think any of this is mine," Rayven said as she grabbed the reins of the horse on which she rode. They slowly walked over to where the other horses were. Tying the reins to a tree, she found a seat on a log and began to work on taking off her armor.

With a light swat to Rayven's good shoulder, Dove said, "Stop that. I will do that for you, Mistress." Serving her helped her feel more in control even as she continued to worry about injuries to the woman she loved.

While this was her first time taking armor off, she quickly figured it out. When she uncovered the injured arm, she gasped. The padding there was wet with blood. As she peeled it off, she could see that while the blade didn't bite through the hard leather, the sheer force of it split the skin. It was no longer bleeding, but it looked nasty. The flesh around it was swollen with bruising that went deep to the bone.

After getting the rest of her armor off, Dove went into the packs and found the bundle of medicines and bandages. She carefully cleaned it, using some of Rayven's magic salve to avoid infection. At her direction, she also used her skill at embroidery to stitch the wound closed, before wrapping it with bandages.

"You did well, Dove. You will make a good camp follower," Rayven told her with a smile. Despite the younger woman's protests, she pulled the armor on again and got ready to ride. "I want to get away from here. Those bodies will bring things that I prefer to avoid. I'm not in good shape for another fight. We'll ride easy though the night and rest in the morning," she told her.

They split the horses between them and began to ride west again, heading for the coast. At first, they were quiet. It was already a long night, and they were both tired.

"Mistress?" Dove asked after a little while.

"Yes, my little Dove?" Rayven said with a smile, looking over at the young woman who smiled back at her.

"Will you teach me to defend myself? So I never have to face that choice again?" she asked. Her head was held high and the thin trail of blood that dripped from the cut was easy to see.

"I will, my Dove," she replied, though she was also determined to make sure that no one ever threatened her charge again.

"Thank you, Mistress," Dove told her. "And Mistress, I meant it. I love you."

"I know you did. And I love you, Dove."

Even with the five horses behind her, Dove managed to move just close enough to hold out her hand. Rayven reached out and took it. They continued on their journey that way.

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The early fall air was crisp as Jardoon made his way up the path. The journey was long and he was looking forward to a little break, before starting the return one. At least they could head directly to the port city where the King waited. The trip to the little out of the way town where the message waited as to where her Highness hid added a month onto the trip. The return to the King from here would still take well over a month.

"From one backwater village to another," he muttered. They weren't even in the tiny hamlet he had been told to go to. They were another half hour outside it, up a path that was barely noticeable. "The things we do for the rightful king," he added.

He would rather be back with the King, who was planning on how he would retake his throne. Jardoon helped with the breakout at the end of the siege, showing himself to be reliable and more importantly, trustworthy. It was a sign of that trust that the King asked him to take on this task. There was even a little hint that perhaps it would make a difference in whom would gain the Princess's hand, though Jardoon didn't really believe that. More likely, she would be wed to the ruler of whichever kingdom pledged to do the most to help the King throw out the Duke.

Jardoon shook his head. "That isn't me. I have only my sword and my shield to offer him. Gods, though, she is sweet. I don't deny that," he thought to himself. All the knights kept a furtive eye on her when she was around the castle.

The path opened up into a clearing with a small cabin in the middle. A curl of smoke drifted up from the chimney. "Huh," he said. "Not much of palace for a princess." It helped explain why there was no rumor anywhere of the Princess's location. Dismounting, he stepped fully into the clearing and raised his hands as instructed.

A minute later, a tall older woman came out the door. She looked unarmed, but that wasn't her reputation. Jardoon only met Rayven once, on the day she came to the castle, but he had heard a lot about her. Just as he was now, she was once a Champion of the King; and was still the standard by which the King judged them. He remained still as she approached.

"Jardoon," she said when she stood in front of him. She spoke with confidence as to his identity, even though their meeting was brief. "What brings you to my humble home?"

"Rayven," he said with a nod and then began to lower his hands.

"Uh uh," she said with a shake of the head. "Keep your hands up, Sir."

"If I may, I have a letter for you," he said. Although he still wasn't sure she was armed, he felt unseen eyes on him and the sense of being targeted. "Clearly, she isn't alone," he thought.

"Your left hand," she said as she raised a palm.

Carefully, he removed the letter written by the King from a pouch and handed it to her. The seal was still intact, testament to the care he took with it. He noticed that Rayven allowed her attention to be diverted by the note, verifying his sense that someone had an arrow or a quarrel trained on him. She wouldn't be that careless.

Breaking the seal, Rayven opened the letter and began reading it.

"To my Champion Rayven, thank you for your service in protecting my daughter. Please accept my Champion Jardoon as my deputy, and assist him in returning my daughter to my presence. He speaks with my authority. When I see you, I will reward you as fits the dedication you have given my house. His Royal Highness Isashar, King of the Kantari and Onjani."

Her years serving the king made her familiar with his signature. Even if she did not recognize the signature, she knew the letter to be genuine. It followed the plan they made months ago. It was only a few weeks since she heard rumors in the market in the little village nearby that the King still lived. Since then, she expected this visit at some point. Turning, she walked back to the cabin. "Come," she told him.

Jardoon paused a second and then walked after her, leading his horse. As he got closer, he saw a small barn that housed at least a couple of horses. "Good, we won't need to find them steeds," he thought. The feeling of being watched was gone and he strode after her, feeling confident. When Rayven entered the cabin, he tied up his horse and followed.

While there were windows, the curtains were drawn. The interior was dark and smelled of smoke. He paused, allowing his eyes to adjust. When he could see, he looked around. He couldn't see anyone else.

"Where is the Princess?" he asked in a hard tone.

"You understand that I am always careful, in the greatest measure. My responsibility is to keep her safe from all threats. We didn't know who you were," Rayven said. Looking over her shoulder, she called out. "Dove, come in."

The curtain hanging over a back door was pushed aside and a young woman entered. She held a crossbow with a cocked quarrel ready to fire. Jardoon stared at the fierce looking creature. She looked like one of the savages far to the south who still lived as his ancestors did before they conquered the Onjari. There was a tattoo covering her face and her hair was short, even shaved on one side. The only clue to her true identity were the crystal clear blue eyes. He recalled those eyes as he watched the Princess moving around the castle. He looked over at Rayven.