The Dice Of Fate

Silvi waited patiently at the west gate of the fortress, watching the eastern sky turn golden as the light of morning kindled the distant mountains. An hour passed, in which she sat on the bench beside the gate, rubbing her aching legs. The previous day's long march had taken its toll on her limbs and she longed to return to her bed. The air at the gate was clear and cool, but her uniform of green cloth felt hot and uncomfortable, the hem of the short skirt itching her thighs, the sleeves of the shirt making her arms sweat. She usually wore her chestnut-brown hair long and loose, but today she had tied it in a ponytail, using a black silk ribbon that her sweetheart had given for her eighteenth birthday. The gift, he had told her, was a special present to mark their betrothal.

A man in the infantry uniform of red tunic and white trousers strode across the dusty courtyard. He was tall and grey-bearded and carried a sergeant's baton.

"Are you Silvi the Ranger?" he inquired. "I was sent to find you. I bring a message from the surgeon."

"The surgeon?" Silvi asked, her brows furrowing beneath her dark fringe.

The sergeant nodded. "The barbarian warrior named Keelam is unable to supervise your training today. She lies in the infirmary and is very ill. I suggest you return to your dormitory and await further news."

Silvi sprang up from the bench, her eyes wide with anxiety. "Keelam is ill? I must go to her at once!"

"As you wish," the sergeant replied, walking away towards the barracks.

Silvi hurried across the courtyard and entered the door of the infirmary. There, in a small room off the main corridor, she found a solemn group of people standing beside a white bed. From the rear she recognized the long dark hair of the swordmaiden Sharmoon, Keelam's close friend. Next to Sharmoon stood the surgeon, leaning over a small blonde woman who lay pale and motionless under a sheepskin blanket. A taller blonde sat beside the bed, her face buried in her hands.

The surgeon shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry, comrades. But I can do no more for her."

Sharmoon nodded. "We appreciate your efforts, even though her ailment was beyond your skill. Tomorrow we'll send her back to her family."

She placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of the seated blonde. "Come, Chekhu. Your bedside vigil is ended. Go to your bed and get some rest."

Chekhu lifted her head from her hands and tried to smile, but her face was so pale and drawn that the expression looked like a grimace of pain. "You're right. We should leave her in peace."

Silvi stood in the doorway, stifling a cry of grief and dismay. The sound attracted the attention of Sharmoon, who walked over to greet her. Silvi looked up into the tall barbarian's keen blue eyes and sniffed back a sob.

Sharmoon gave a kindly smile. "Keelam will not be taking you into the forest today, little ranger," she said quietly, taking a deep breath and looking at the figure on the bed. "Alas! She brought this terrible fate upon herself. I warned her that this day would come too soon."

A tear rolled down Silvi's cheek and her lower lip trembled. "The day of her death?" she whispered.

Sharmoon looked puzzled, lifting her dark eyebrows in surprise. "Her death? No indeed, Silvi! I do not think the gods of heaven or hell are ready to take Keelam off our hands just yet. I meant the day when she finally drank herself into a mindless stupour. I warned her many times that too much strong wine would ruin her body and reduce it to a pitiful carcase."

Silvi's face brightened with sudden relief and joy. "She lives? Then I misheard the words of doom that were spoken?"

Sharmoon grinned. "Ah! I see now why you thought our little comrade had relinquished this life. An easy mistake, when Keelam lies lifeless in the infirmary, her lips tinged with blue and her cheeks as pale as death."

"And Chekhu looking so sad and weary," Silvi added, pointing to the tall blonde sitting beside the bed. "I thought she was mourning our dear comrade."

"Chekhu is nursing a hangover that would burst the skull of an ox," Sharmoon explained. "She and Keelam had a drinking contest last night, but neither of them emerged victorious. The surgeon gave Chekhu a potion to soothe her aching head, but he has no remedy for Keelam, who will soon wake to pain and regret."

Silvi smiled, relaxing her shoulders and leaning against the doorway. "And what did you mean when you told the surgeon about sending Keelam back to her family."

"Tomorrow she is due to start a fortnight's holiday," Sharmoon replied. "Her brother is getting married and has invited Keelam to the wedding. The journey home is long and arduous, but hopefully she will be sufficiently recovered if she sleeps today."

The surgeon packed his small leather case and headed for the door. Sharmoon and Silvi stepped aside to let him pass, but he paused to give a last look back at the bed.

"You barbarians drink too much," he said, jabbing a finger at Sharmoon. "Your little friend should stay clear of ale and wine for a week at least, until her body recovers from this latest onslaught. Tell her to drink as much clear water as her belly can hold." He clicked his tongue. "Our captain will not be happy about this when I tell him what has happened. He is paying you and Chekhu and Keelam a very good wage to train our Ranger cadets, including young Silvi here. Much time and money is wasted by these needless bouts of drunkenness."

Sharmoon bowed courteously. "We hear your wise words, good sir," she answered. "Keelam will personally apologize to the captain as soon as she is fit enough to walk and talk."

The surgeon glowered and stormed off, cursing under his breath. Sharmoon and Silvi watched him go, while Chekhu joined them in the doorway, combing her long blonde hair with trembling fingers.

"That stuff he gave me tasted awful," she commented, her voice faint and unsteady. "What I really need is a jug of cool beer."

Sharmoon laughed, pushing her comrade out into the corridor. "Go to bed! I'll see you this evening, after I've taken Silvi on a jaunt through the trees."

"My forest training?" Silvi asked hopefully. "The exercise Keelam was supposed to supervise?"

Sharmoon nodded. "Fortunately I'm sober, so I'll take Keelam's place. I'm less skilled as a tracker, but I can show you a few ambush tricks when we reach the woodland trails."

"Thank you!" said Silvi.

* * * * * * *

The following day dawned bright and clear, after a night of unexpected rain and thunder. In the muddy courtyard of the fortress Silvi shouldered her heavy pack and walked over to the north gate. Two infantry cadets guarding the gate greeted her as she approached. One was a girl in a short red dress, the other a lad in scarlet tunic and clean white trousers. Both carried spears and small round shields.

"Good morning, Silvi!" said the boy. "I hear you are leaving us for a couple of weeks."

"I am," Silvi replied. "Keelam the barbarian is taking me back to her home in the far north, where I shall continue my ranger training under her expert supervision. It was the captain's idea."

"Keelam had no choice but to agree to it," said the boy. "I hear he is not at all pleased with her recent antics."

The girl in the red dress gave a knowing grin. "Be careful, Silvi. Especially at night. Keelam has a fondness for pretty women. It won't matter to her that you are betrothed to a fine young man in the city."

Silvi frowned. "I've spent many hours of training with Keelam and she has always treated me with honour and respect. So, your warning is unnecessary."

"Here she comes now!" the boy muttered, as a small blonde in a short buckskin dress strode across the courtyard.

"Hello, Keelam!" said Silvi, greeting the barbarian with a smile of delight.

"Ready to set off?" Keelam asked, tightening the straps on her backpack.

Silvi nodded, and together they marched through the gate, taking the northward road towards the mountains.

* * * * * * *

"Oh Keelam," Silvi whispered softly, closing her eyes as she lay back on the blanket.

It was early evening, and the stars were shining in a dark azure sky. In a cave in the hills the two travellers had set their camp for the night, spreading their blankets side by side near a glowing fire. Their meal of herbal stew had been washed down with springwater, and now they lay naked in the warm firelight, snuggling in each other's arms.

Silvi caressed her companion's tangled blonde mane and kissed the pink pouting mouth. At eighteen, she was ten years younger than Keelam, and was barely an inch or two taller, but she felt strangely protective of the tough barbarian and detected in her a vulnerability that others rarely saw. Many people knew of Keelam's reputation as a hard-drinking, hard-fighting warrior woman, but few folk knew her well enough to see the gentler side of her character. Silvi had perceived that same gentleness within an hour of their first meeting, less than a month earlier, and she had quickly grown fond of the little blonde, admiring her quick wit and her uncanny skill at scouting a trail.

"That feels good!" Silvi murmured, as Keelam's fingers brushed over her pubic hair.

"It's so soft," the barbarian commented. "Like the feathers of a baby swan."

Silvi giggled, then took a deep breath when a finger slipped past the hairs to stroke her cunt-lips.

"I don't know why I'm letting you do this," she muttered. "But I don't want it to stop."

Keelam planted a small kiss on the girl's mouth. "You feel that you betray your sweetheart?"

Silvi nodded, but she returned the kiss eagerly. "Yes. He and I are due to be married next spring. A better bride than I would stay faithful to her betrothed."

Keelam smiled, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "He is far away in the city, and is none the wiser. A woman should enjoy herself before marriage, satisfying her curiosity while she is still young, lest she be tempted to stray in the years after the wedding."

"This is our secret, then?" said Silvi, grinning as her sensitive inner flesh responded to Keelam's probing finger.

Keelam nodded, bending her head to lick Silvi's neck and ears, kissing the strands of dark hair that tumbled around the girl's shoulders.

* * * * * * *

The journey north was a tough three-day trek over the mountains and down to the untamed country beyond. Keelam knew every turn of the trail and the course of every stream, even in the vast woods of beech and elm where Silvi lost all sense of direction. At last, as the third day drew to its close, the two travellers saw lights gleaming in green meadowland between a forest and a knot of rocky hills.

"Look, Silvi!" said Keelam, pointing towards the lights. "The cooking-fires of my people, and the wagons of my kin!"

Evening shade was falling across the meadows when they reached the circle of twenty covered wagons enclosing a dozen brightly-burning fires. Heavy-limbed oxen strayed on the perimeter of the circle, nibbling the short grass and flicking their tails. Silvi saw that each wagon was painted in vivid colours and bore strange emblems that she guessed were heraldic devices or the badges of clans and families. Many folk of different ages sat in groups around the fires, spooning bowls of steaming stew from black iron pots or supping ale from leather jugs that they passed from group to group. The men were shaggy-haired and weatherbeaten, the women smooth-skinned and bright-eyed, their wrists and ears adorned with gold jewellery. Small children played under the largest wagons, chasing each other between the huge spoked wheels.

Keelam walked among the cooking-fires, returning the smiles and the words of welcome that greeted her. Silvi followed in her wake, savouring the aroma of herbs and spices that rose from the pots. Keelam halted at a fire on the edge of the circle and looked down at the three people sitting around it. Two men and a woman sat there, hunched over bowls of stewed meat that they ate with their fingers. When they saw Keelam their faces beamed with delight.

"She's here at last!" said one of the men, a lean blond fellow in his early thirties. "My little sister has come home! Sit down, Kee, and grab a bowl for you and your friend."

"Good evening to you, Maskel my brother," Keelam replied, sitting cross-legged near the fire with Silvi at her side. "And greetings also to your lovely betrothed," she added, turning to smile at the woman who sat close to Maskel.

The woman smiled, flashing her pearl-white teeth. Her tousled mane of raven hair was streaked with red dye and plaited with delicate golden thread. She wore a loose white shirt and close-fitting grey trousers that clung to her sleek legs like stockings, but her feet were bare except for a small silver bangle on each ankle. Her skin was a rich deep shade of brown, dark and smooth like coffee, and her eyes were hazel-grey. Silvi had seen people of that race before, in the streets of her own city on the coast, and as a child she had often stared at them. They hailed from the mysterious southern continent far beyond the ocean and rarely ventured north to the Heartland.

"And who is your young companion?" the dark woman asked, her bright gaze falling on Silvi.

"She is a ranger cadet from the South," Keelam explained. "Her name is Silvi. She and I will be continuing her training while we sojourn here."

"My name is Tifuzana," said the dark-skinned woman to Silvi. "But most folk call me Tiff. And this is Maskel, my betrothed, the brother of Keelam. The big brute next to you is Keb the blacksmith."

Silvi saw that the man sitting beside her was indeed very large and rugged. His straggly brown hair was gathered in a short ponytail which flicked his bare shoulders, for he wore no shirt. His muscular arms bore many blue tattoos, and gold rings dangled from his ears. But he was clean-shaven and his fingernails were well-scrubbed. He seemed to Silvi less of an uncouth barbarian than the blacksmiths who plied their trade in the back streets of her own city.

Keelam and Silvi tucked eagerly into bowls of stew and were glad to rest their weary feet. Silvi had never before journeyed into the barbarian lands and she was curious to learn about this wild northern region and its inhabitants, with whom her king shared an alliance against a common foe. She therefore said little, choosing instead to listen to the conversations that passed to and fro across the campfire. She learned that Keelam's family belonged to a travelling clan who roamed far and wide in their wagons, trading homespun clothes for money and food, or offering their oxen to farmers who lacked such heavy beasts. Some, such as Keb the blacksmith, were much in demand as specialists. Keelam's brother Maskel was an expert guide and tracker who made a good living as a bounty-hunter, his prey being mostly sheep-rustlers and cattle-thieves. Silvi was unsurprised to discover that Keelam had learned her matchless scouting technique under her brother's tutelage when, as small children, they had accompanied their father on many dangerous journeys into bandit country.

As the hours passed, Silvi found her gaze being drawn often to Tiff, whom she found incredibly exotic and beautiful. She was very curious to know what brought a dark-skinned woman from the Far South to the wild northlands and, during a lull in the conversation, she asked the question.

"I come from the scorched desert of Kaluga," Tiff explained. "I sailed to the Heartland twelve years ago, at the age of fourteen, to seek my fortune as a jewelsmith. I dwelt awhile in your city, but its great size frightened me, so I wandered northward into the wilderness."

"And there she met me," said Keelam. "I was nineteen and had never seen anyone with such dark skin. Tiff sold me a ring of silver and amethyst, which I still cherish."

"We fell in love," Tiff added, smiling at Silvi's raised eyebrows. "And Keelam brought me home to her kin. But then she went away with the army, and my heart turned to Maskel her brother."

They all fell silent, while Silvi stared at Tiff, who was grinning at Keelam across the firelight. Eventually Maskel stood up, stamping the cramp from his legs and stretching his arms.

"The hour is late!" he said, stifling a yawn. "Widow Sleff will be wondering where I've got to."

Silvi looked up at him questioningly, and he smiled down at her. "Tonight I go hunting," he explained. "I'm tracking a pair of villains who stole a goat from poor Widow Sleff. She expects their heads to be stuck on her fence by noon tomorrow."

"But surely it's too dark for hunting?" said Silvi.

Maskel shook his head. "The moon is high tonight, my young ranger friend. Has my sister not taught you how to track a prey in the darkness?"

"Not yet," said Keelam.

Maskel leaned over to kiss Tiff on the cheek, while patting the head of Keb the blacksmith. "Take care of my dark jewel tonight, big fellow. Keep her warm, and keep those jackals away from her!"

Keelam frowned. "Still having trouble with the Pegler clan?"

Tiff gave a heavy sigh, and Maskel nodded. "Yes, little sister," he explained. "Their chief has his mind set on stealing my lady and making her his concubine. Two of his sons sneaked into our camp last week and tried to kidnap Tiff while I was out hunting. Only the vigilance of Keb saved her from their evil clutches."

"If they come tonight," said Keelam, "they'll have Silvi and me to deal with."

"Good!" said Maskel. "And now farewell. Expect me in two days, if all goes well with Widow Sleff and her precious goat."

With a bow to Silvi, he turned and stole away into the darkness, vanishing into the shadows beyond the wagon-circle. The others sat beside the fire for a while, until Tiff said: "I feel the night-chill in my bones. Let's go into the wagon!"

* * * * * * *

The air within the wagon was warm and resin-scented, like the air inside a deep forest on a clear autumn evening. In the light of white candles the foursome sat cross-leeged on the pine-planked floor and talked of many things. Silvi supped Keb's home-brewed ale until she became more than a little drunk, her customary shyness dissolving in a haze of giggles and slurred speech that the others found amusing. Keb downed numerous jugs of ale but his huge frame absorbed its effects, while Tiff merely sipped from a silver goblet. Keelam adhered to the surgeon's advice and drank nothing but water.

"What do you think of this?" asked Tiff, opening a small square box that she laid on the floor. "Maskel took it from a bandit three nights ago. We can't decipher the writing on it."

She opened the box to reveal two large six-sided dice, one red, the other green, with a small hourglass. The dice were rolled in a sheet of vellum that bore a curious curling script, arranged in two columns of red and green ink.

Keelam peered closely at the vellum, and at the writing on the lid of the box. "It's an elvish script," she said. "I have some knowledge of the language, though I read it better than I speak it. The writing on the lid says The Dice of Fate. The vellum page lists values for the scores of each dice, numbered one to six." Suddenly she gave a raucous laugh. "It's an elvish sex-game!"

"A sex-game?" said Keb, furrowing his heavy dark brows. "I don't understand."

Keelam grinned. "It's quite simple. Each player throws the dice and has to fulfil the designated task."

"What tasks are listed?" asked Silvi, refilling her own and Keb's ale-mugs.

"The usual array of delightful deeds," Keelam replied. "Fingers and tongues, mostly. Use your imagination, my friends!"

"Let's play it!" Tiff suggested in a furtive whisper. Her hazel eyes gleamed mischievously as she glanced from face to face.

"Why not?" ventured Keb, his smile broadening in hope and anticipation.

Keelam took a sip of water and shrugged. "Alright, we'll play it. But first we need to establish some rules."