Tara Ch. 04

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A battle and a beating.
7.1k words
4.03
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Part 4 of the 5 part series

Updated 10/01/2022
Created 10/27/2009
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Tara sat with her back to the trunk of a tree, her long legs stretched out in front of her, and played idly with a dagger. They had finally reached their destination; the caravan they were planning on robbing was due the next day. Drea had called a meeting of her inner circle to plan the heist. The redhead leaned back and regarded the three men who sat by the fire with idle interest. One of them she recognized as having been with the young man whose head she'd taken a few days before; he was shooting her veiled glances every now and then, and his eyes held unmistakable respect. The other two were more or less unknown to her. All three were grizzled veteran fighters, olive-skinned Argonians with the hard muscles that came from long years of training. Tara thought she recognized one of them from the years she had fought under Vasilus, but she didn't know the man's name.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Drea. The woman stumped over to the fire and sat down. Her dark eyes swept the men, met Tara's for a moment, and then moved on. "All right," Drea said at length, once the silence had stretched out for a moment or two. "We've got a fight to plan out, boys." She spread out a scrap of parchment on the top of a stump and tapped it with her finger. "This here's a map of the gully where we'll want to hit 'em. Here's where it narrows. We've got eleven fighters – let's figure out where to put everyone."

The plans began to take shape. Tara sat apart, watching through half-closed eyes. To all appearances, she seemed bored to death. Her sharp hearing, however, missed nothing. She took careful note of which men made the best strategic suggestions, and of their names. Hadrien – the largest of the bunch, but not stupid by any stretch. Argus – lighter tan than the others, doesn't seem that clever about strategy, but I bet he's a wicked fighter. Leander – the best strategic mind of the three. Tara yawned and slipped her dagger back into its sheath.

Drea's dark eyes rose from the map and rested on the redheaded woman. "Do you have anything to add, Tara?" she asked. "You've been pretty quiet."

Silence fell as the three men turned to look at the Gael. Tara gave a leisurely stretch and rose to her feet. "Yes. Actually, I do." She moved over to the map and looked down at it in silence for a moment. There were a number of small pebbles on it, to indicate the positions of their fighters and of the caravan. Tara rested her finger to the left of the inked lines that indicated the narrowest point of the ravine. "I scouted out the area before I came here," she said diffidently. "You folks are wanting to put our fighters on this side, and our three archers on the other; it won't work. The footing on this side of the gully's really iffy – lots of loose stones and soil. Anyone on foot's going to slip and fall, and we need to strike quickly if we want to keep the element of surprise." She tapped the other side of the ravine. "Put our footsoldiers there. Swap them. The archers can stay up high, so they don't have to worry about slipping down the embankment."

There was a pause. Drea's lips curved upward just a bit. "That's a great point," she said. "I think you're right." She glanced at the three men. "Any objections to implementing that?" There was silence, and Drea deftly swapped the stones. Then she raised her eyes to the redhead's again. "We've already got systems we use to fight," she said. "Some of the boys go straight up the middle of the enemy – some are better at hitting the flanks. Where do you fit, Tara?"

Tara gave a quiet smile. She was well aware that Drea already knew the answer to this question. This one's for the benefit of "the boys," I suppose. "I go straight at the enemy," she said calmly. "And if there's any of them left by the time the rest of you get there, you're welcome to them." She patted the hilt of her sword. "I mostly use this, although I can use a javelin if I have one."

"We'll have to find you one tomorrow." Drea scratched her nose. "I bet some of those fellows guarding the gold will have them."

"I bet they will." A surge of adrenaline made Tara's heart beat faster, and she grinned with wicked anticipation. "Maybe I'll borrow a couple then." Drea's eyes met hers, with just a faint twinkle.

Leander cleared his throat, and Tara's attention turned to him. He had very broad shoulders and lean hips, and his features were chiseled. A white scar ran down the length of his left cheek, from ear to chin – he was, nevertheless, a handsome man. "I'm not normally one to question your decisions, Drea," he said slowly. "You've led us well these two years, and I've had nothing to complain of, but..." His eyes rested doubtfully on Tara. "If half the stories about this Gael are true, and if what I saw a couple of nights ago means anything, I don't know if having her with us is such a good idea."

Drea's brows lifted just a touch. "Tara's one of the best bloody fighters in this country, and probably in the world," she said coolly. "Archelaus shot his mouth off and attacked someone who outranked and outclassed him, and he paid for it with his head. I don't see that Tara did anything much worse than what I would have done if he'd pulled that stunt with me."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Aye, maybe," he said grudgingly. "But all the same..."

The redheaded warrior thumped her fist down on the stump just hard enough to make the group jump. Her cold brown eyes caught and held his. "I don't kill without reason," she said evenly. "If you're my ally and under my command, you have nothing to fear from me so long as you shut up and follow orders. I don't think that's unreasonable."

"No," Leander allowed. He still looked a bit doubtful. "I guess not."

Tara nodded shortly. "Other than that..." She looked up at the smaller woman. "Drea's in charge. I'll follow her lead, just like the rest of you."

Drea gave a faint smirk and turned her gaze back on the map. "All right, then. On that note, I think this meeting's over. Unless any of you have something you'd like to add?" There was silence. Drea's eyes moved pointedly to Leander's, and he shook his head. "Good." The dark-skinned woman leaned back, smiled, and shrugged. "Go off and get some rest, then, boys. Tomorrow's the big day." The men headed to their tents. Tara found Drea's dark eyes resting on her; the smaller woman seemed amused. "You follow my lead, do you, Terror?"

"Sure. Unless you do something incredibly stupid." Tara gave a quiet smile. "And unless things have changed a lot in the past couple of years, you're not a stupid woman."

"Hope not," Drea said, her eyes twinkling. "You never know, though. I have taken a few hits to the head in my time." She rose and stretched. "I'm going over to Hadrien's tent. A few of us are playing a round or two of cards before we all hit the hay. You want to come?"

Tara shook her head firmly. "Nope." She got up and brushed the dirt off her clothes.

The smaller warrior shook her head and smirked. "Still the same old antisocial bear," she said. "All right, then. You go and cuddle with the Pony by yourself if you want. I'm playing some cards."

This made Tara pause. She turned to look at Drea and raised a brow. "The pony?"

Drea laughed. "Oh, that's right. You probably wouldn't have heard that yet. Hadrien's servant, Bernice, started calling your little Epona that yesterday. Pony." She grinned. "It kind of suits her, don't you think?"

"Huh." Tara made a face. "If you say so." Drea only laughed again, and made her way into the camp. The redheaded warrior shrugged. Then she went to look for Epona.

She found the girl sitting with two other camp followers, quietly engaged in helping with the mending. The girl raised her moss-green eyes as Tara approached. The faint smile that had been on Epona's face faded abruptly. Tara paused. "Come," she said shortly. "It's time for bed." The slave put down her work, murmured a quick goodbye to her companions, and rose to her feet. Tara's hand rested possessively against the young woman's back as they made their way to their tent.

Once there, Tara lit a small lamp and began to unbuckle the straps that held on her armor. "Strip," she ordered. "Drea's at a card game, so we've got some time to ourselves. I want to make the most of it." Epona gazed at her for a moment, her large eyes inscrutable, before she obeyed.

The sight of the girl's bare skin made Tara's gut burn. She wanted her suddenly – wanted her badly. With a groan, Tara caught the slave by her arm and pulled her close, crushing her lips against hers. She felt Epona's muscles tense, but she didn't care. With a burst of strength, she bore her down to her sleeping mat and began to bite at her breastbone, her hands gripping at Epona's hips. The slave gasped and writhed beneath her; Tara felt small fingers digging into the backs of her arms. "You are delicious," Tara muttered, rising up to catch Epona's lips in another bruising kiss.

"Please." The slave girl's voice was quivering. Tara was surprised to see tears brimming in Epona's green eyes. "Please," she whispered again, "don't hurt me."

What? The warrior looked down at her own hands, only then noticing that her knuckles were white. She loosened her grasp on Epona's hips with some chagrin. All right, all right, tiger. Don't forget that she's only a little thing. Easy, now. She bent down to kiss the slave again, more gently this time. "I won't," she said quietly. "Relax." Her touch became almost tender, and she slowed down. She felt the tense muscles beneath her fingertips begin to loosen. "Is that better?"

"Yes, ma'am." Epona swallowed hard, and didn't meet her gaze.

"Good." Tara slid her palms lightly up the girl's lean flanks. She's still kind of spooked. Maybe I better calm her down a bit more. "I hear someone's given you a nickname," she murmured.

Epona nodded, peering up at her through her black lashes. "Yes'm. Bernice called me Pony," she whispered. "I guess people like it."

Tara brushed her lips over the soft skin of Epona's throat. "Drea was saying," she remarked. "I'm probably not going to call you that, but I suppose it's..." The warrior hesitated, searching for the appropriate word. "...Cute," she finished lamely. She couldn't quite conceal her distaste.

The slave reached up and traced the side of Tara's face, her fingertips sliding over her cheekbone. She seemed pensive. "You don't have to, ma'am," was all she said.

Tara smirked. "You are adorable," she said calmly, and lowered her head to nibble on Epona's collarbone again. Her mouth moved lower – Epona's small hands clutched at her shoulders – and everything else melted away.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The pitch black of night was just beginning to give way to the pearly gray light of dawn, and the world was quiet, save for a few tentative twitters of birdsong. The sky was clear, and it promised to be a beautiful day, once the sun rose and burned off the chill of the early morning mist.

The silence was broken by the soft sound of running feet, and a red-haired woman jogged over the crest of the hill, her long legs devouring the distance with powerful strides. Tara's lips quirked into a faint smile.

She loved daybreak – loved to greet the sun by displaying her strength. Tara gave a broad grin of delight at the thought. She'd already spent an hour or so lifting and hurling great stones, before her restless energy had sent her out on this run. She felt great – and the thought of the battle that lay ahead of her put an extra bounce in her step. Her eye caught a tree branch hanging about five feet over her head. With a sudden burst, Tara sprang and caught it, flipping herself onto it with an agility surprising in one so tall. Three more leaps took her to the top of the tree. There she crouched, panting lightly, and took in her surroundings.

There was no sign of human habitation as far as her eye could see, except for the distant road to the north, and the smoke from the campfire a few miles to the west. Tara gave a sigh of contentment. She soaked in the peace and solitude for a minute or two longer. Then she rose to her feet, walked out on the branch, and leaped, throwing her arms out as if to take flight.

The wind rushed past her as she fell. Tara laughed with the sheer joy of it, then reached out and caught another branch, swinging and propelling herself upward again. For several minutes she played, soaring and flipping through the air like a gigantic bird. Finally, with one last graceful spin, Tara dropped down to the earth. The moment her feet touched the ground, she took off westward.

She'd begun this morning ritual of exercise soon after being kicked out of the army in Gaelis. At first, it had just been a way to build extra strength and endurance, and to burn off her excess energy. It had quickly become a pleasure as well, her competitive nature finding great pleasure in pitting her growing muscles against the immutable stones. Tara was never happier than when she was fighting, but her morning workouts came a very close second.

She ran back the way she had come, her feet tirelessly beating against the ground. About half a mile from camp, her pace slowed. She could smell moisture in the air; the faint roar of flowing water came to her ears. With a slight smile, Tara turned her steps toward the sound.

The river that flowed nearly parallel to the distant road tumbled down into a pool at one point. Tara had found it during her initial scouting of the area. Now she stopped on the embankment, quickly stripped off her clothes, and leaped gracefully into the water.

It was icy cold. Tara's breath caught in her throat as her head surfaced again. She inhaled sharply and dove down, until her hands slid into the slimy mud at the bottom. Then she curved her body, dug her feet in, and pushed off. The water rushed against her face as she swam upward. An exultant smile curved her lips as her head burst out into the air once more. Gasping with exertion and exhilaration, she pulled herself back up on dry land and lay back on the grass. The morning sun felt hot against her wet skin.

Tara closed her eyes. She felt good – replete. Energy hummed through her body. I'm ready, she thought. I'm ready to fight. Suddenly, she couldn't bear the absence of her armor and sword any longer. Bounding to her feet, Tara quickly pulled on her clothes, tucked her dagger into its sheath, and dashed off toward the mercenary camp.

The camp was stirring. From the smells that wafted to Tara's nose as she approached, she guessed that breakfast was almost ready. She spotted Drea sitting off to one side, deep in conversation with Hadrien. Epona was with the camp followers who were preparing the food. Tara snapped her fingers at her as she passed. "Come," she ordered. The slave got up and followed her silently.

Her armor was waiting for her in her tent. Tara gave it a quick inspection before turning to her quiet slave. "You might as well learn how to help me with this," she said calmly. "It's a pain putting it on by myself." The warrior stripped off her tunic, and then hunted about for the small container of war paint she kept in her saddlebags. It was one Gael practice that she'd held onto – woad battle paint. She dug her fingers into the blue stuff and began to apply it to her skin in dramatic swirls. Once her face and torso were covered, she closed the container and picked up her heavy shoulder armor. Epona staggered under its weight as Tara thrust it at her. "Lift that up over my head," she instructed, quickly throwing on her mail shirt.

It took visible effort, but Epona managed to put the armor in place over Tara's shoulders. The warrior gave terse instructions about which straps should buckle where; Epona's dainty fingers tied laces and fastened straps with tolerable skill. Bracers followed, and then her leg armor. When the final strap had been fastened, the smaller girl sat back on her heels and peered up at Tara. "Is that all right, ma'am?"

Tara considered, flexing her calf muscles and stamping her feet. Then she jerked her head and grunted her approval as she reached for her sword and shield. "Bring me my helm." Epona obeyed. Tara slung her shield onto her back and sheathed her blade at her side. Then, taking her crested helmet from the slave's hands, she thrust it onto her head. A ripple of adrenaline moved through her, and she could feel the feral excitement of war stirring to life. She looked down.

Epona winced and shrank back a little when their eyes met. Tara smirked. "What? You've seen me in this armor before."

"No, ma'am. Not like this," Epona whispered with a deep shiver. Her moss-green eyes dropped under the glittering gaze of Tara's.

The warrior smirked a little wider. Her slave's fear was obvious – she hoped she would intimidate her men and her enemies as well. Tara clapped Epona roughly on the back. "Good work," she said gruffly. "Get back out there and see if they still need any help with breakfast." The girl fairly scuttled from the tent. Chuckling, Tara casually followed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The caravan was coming.

Tara's eyes glinted as she followed its progress toward them. She counted the enemy silently. ...Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty... One brow slowly raised. She turned her head to look at Drea, who was crouched beside her and scowling. "How many?" she murmured.

"I know," Drea muttered darkly. "Ten more than we expected. Not good."

"Calling it off?" Tara's voice was cool.

Drea smirked. "Hades, no. I'm just calling in my secret weapon." She patted Tara's well-muscled thigh. "You up to it, Terror?" Tara's only reply was a small, cold smile. The two fell silent, watching their prey.

The ambush was set. The three archers were crouched across the narrow gorge, arrows on the string, awaiting Drea's signal. Behind them huddled the four camp followers who had been chosen as field medics. Epona was among them, having been chosen for her gentle hands and soothing manner. Tara had objected to this at first, pointing out that Epona had no experience, but Leander had countered that she had to learn sometime. After some persuasion, Tara had given her grudging consent. She glanced across the ravine. Although the camp followers were huddled behind a bush, Tara's eagle eye could make out Epona's nervous face peering uncertainly from the foliage. The warrior frowned briefly. Then she put the matter out of her mind and turned her attention back to their quarry.

They were close now. Tara could see the carriage where the gold was probably being kept, and the details of the weapons the soldiers were carrying. There were javelins, and good ones. Tara grinned. I'll win me one of those today, she vowed, loosening her sword in its sheath.

Closer – closer. Tara's dark eyes flicked to Drea. The smaller woman had her blade drawn, ready to give the signal to attack. Tara's eyes glistened as adrenaline surged through her veins. A pause – the sword raised – another, interminable pause...

Then it came down, and Tara was on her feet, charging headlong down the steep incline as if bent on breaking her neck. Her sword was in her hand before she was even aware of having drawn it. With a wild yell, she fell on the nearest enemy, only briefly noting it when two of them fell with arrows protruding from their bodies.

At first, it was just adrenaline. Tara's blade clattered off an upraised bracer. She spun, driving the edge of her shield hard into the side of the soldier's head. There was a moist crack. She didn't even stop to watch him fall; she was already attacking her next target. The sickly sweet smell of blood rose up in Tara's nostrils – the predator in her roared to life. She began to laugh as her blade carved out a swath of death all around her. A sword swiped at her head! Tara ducked under it, swinging her shield at the man's exposed side. There was a crunch of bone, and he fell with a choked cry.

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