The sun was going down already, and they'd only made a few miles since morning. Tara rubbed at the back of her neck in frustration. Her brown eyes flicked over to her young companion. The girl was riding silently on Bram, her curly head hanging low, but Tara could see her pallor, and the lines of tension along her jawline. The warrior sighed and rubbed her neck again. "How is it, squirt?" she asked.
Epona peered at her out of the corner of her eye. "It hurts," she admitted softly. "But I can bear it."
"It's not a question of bearing it," Tara muttered. "This isn't the kind of thing we can ignore, little mouse. It's the infection thing." The slave nodded wordlessly. They rode on for a minute or two more before the warrior reined in Cerberus. "We're stopping for the night," she said curtly. "Get down. I'll deal with it before we do anything else."
They had been in Sarmatia for four days, now. On their first night, Epona had hesitantly revealed the raw sores left on her thighs by Bram's saddle. Tara had treated them, and they'd padded the saddle with whatever they could think of, but the sores were stubbornly refusing to heal. Even though the little slave never complained, Tara knew that they were causing her a lot of discomfort, particularly at the end of the long days of riding. They had to stop pretty frequently so that the warrior could change the bandages and clean the raw skin – they'd lost a lot of time.
Quietly, Epona swung down from Bram's back and seated herself on a large stone. Tara rummaged in a saddlebag for her healer's kit. Without bothering to tether either of the horses, she knelt down in front of the slave and began to draw out the things she needed to take care of the sores. "Bare 'em," she said. "Let's see if they're any better." The small girl wriggled out of her leggings and began to gingerly unwrap the bandages that covered her inner thighs.
The sores were no better. In fact, if Tara's memory served her correctly, they were worse – deeper, angrier, and maybe even bigger. She took one lean thigh between her hands and examined the wounds closely, running experienced eyes over the inflamed flesh. "Not good," she muttered, shaking her head. "Do they hurt more than they used to?"
"Yes, ma'am," Epona said, and bit her lips. "They feel hot, now, too. And they itch a lot."
"Damn it." Tara scowled as she opened a small container of salve. Her mind raced as she gently applied the cooling lotion to the angry sores. I can't mess around with infection. If these get too much worse, Epona could really be in trouble, and we're out in the middle of nowhere. We're going to have to stay put for a day or two and let them heal. She gritted her teeth, her sandy brows drawn low over worried brown eyes. I don't like it. We've already lost too much time…Drea was only a few hours behind us when we left Abdera, and she could be here any minute. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Are all the gods against me, or something? "Is that a little better, beag luch?" she asked quietly, closing the container again.
Epona nodded. "Kind of," she murmured. She looked tired; her face was drawn, making her seem older than she was. She reached for her discarded leggings. "I'll get a fire started and make supper."
"No." Tara's strong hand fell on the girl's skinny shoulder. Mildly startled green eyes peered up at her. "You rest," the warrior said. "Lie down, or something. It's no good you hurting yourself worse, kid. Lie down. I'll take care of things for tonight."
"Okay." The little slave smiled, her eyes warm and soft with gratitude. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Just don't make it a habit," Tara growled. She waved her hand at a nearby patch of soft grass. "Lie down there until I've got camp set up properly. Stay out of trouble." Epona obediently lowered herself onto the ground. The warrior heard her sigh in relief. Well, that settles it, Tara thought reluctantly. We'll have to stay here until the day after tomorrow. Burning, bloody Tartarus… She silently tethered the horses to a couple of trees. The currycomb was filthy; Tara brushed all the loose horsehair off it and eyed it with distaste. "I'm going to rinse this off in the brook," she said to her slave. "Maybe I'll fill our water skin, too. Be right back."
Epona smiled. "All right," she said softly. "Are you sure you don't want me to do anything for you, ma'am?"
Tara shook her finger sternly. "You just stay put, runty rodent," she said. "If you try to do any work, I'm going to put you over my knee. Do we understand each other?" The slave looked up at her and smiled, a dear little dimpled grin that melted the warrior like snow in a campfire. Tara scowled to avoid returning the smile, caught up the empty water skin, and headed for the creek that flowed about forty yards from their campsite.
The cheerful gurgling of the brook soothed Tara's nerves a bit. She rinsed the currycomb thoroughly in the clear water. Her mind drifted as she worked. It'll be strange to be in Romus again, she thought. Haven't been there since I went with Drea, way back when…
That had been during the second year that she'd fought under Vasilus. Drea had been a young hothead then. The dark-skinned woman had spent five of her then-seventeen years in the gladiator training pits of Romus, fighting savagely for her life against men and women far stronger than she was. She'd finally gotten lucky enough to escape, and had fled home to Argonia, where she'd joined up with Vasilus, only a couple of weeks after Tara had. The Gael had taken to Drea right away, and the two had become something like friends, which is why Drea had asked Tara to come with her back to Romus. She'd wanted to track down and kill the man who'd kept her prisoner in the pits – Lorent.
For Tara, the journey had been an incredible experience. She'd grown up among the rustic villages of Gael, and even the comparative civilization of the smaller Argonian towns hadn't prepared her for the magnificence of the mighty capital of Romus. The sheer size of the place had dropped young Tara's jaw. She'd seen paved streets, intricately-sculpted statues, and even – in the distance – the magnificent palace of the Emperor himself. And then, of course, there was the Coliseum, where they'd gone to look for Lorent…
They'd cornered him that night as he came out of a bar. Drea had thrust her sword between his ribs after a pitched fight – Tara hadn't even had to step in.
Tara set
aside the brush and dipped the water skin into the cold liquid. She
thought about Epona, and how the slave would probably react to the
sights in Romus. Her lips curved. I bet her eyes are going to pop
right out of her head, she thought. Maybe I'll get the time
to take her to a couple of the temples there…some of the statues
and things will blow her mind. And the Senate, too. Lots of beautiful
architecture around the place. Heh. Listen to me, planning
this as if it's a vacation instead of running for our lives. I'm
getting soft in the head.
As she stepped into the clearing, two things registered immediately. First was the fact that Epona was gone. The second was more nebulous – a kind of tightening in Tara's gut and at the back of her neck. By sheer instinct, the warrior abruptly dropped what she was carrying and hurled herself forward into a roll, groping at the hilt of her sword. There were three sharp thuds as arrows buried themselves in the trunk of the tree that she'd been standing in front of not an instant before! Tara came up on her feet with her weapon drawn. Even so, she just barely managed to deflect the blade that swung at her head.
What the hell? Tara had no time to really analyze anything. Another sword whipped at her midsection. She twisted to avoid it as she blocked another blow to her head, and then leaped over a mace that was swinging hard at her legs. For a few minutes, she couldn't get a clean look at any of her antagonists; she was far too busy trying to keep her own hide intact. At last, she managed to catch a glimpse of one of them. It was a woman in her mid-thirties, a battle-scarred veteran with grim black eyes and deeply tanned skin. Her clothes were brief, exposing her midriff and her legs to halfway up her thighs. She wore a light helm, and her tunic and short leggings were sewn with plates of hard leather, but she really had very little in the way of armor.
Amazons.
What were the odds of this, really? Tara was sure that they were at least four or five days' ride away from any of the Amazon settlements. How had they found her? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? She gritted her teeth and blocked a sword, at the same time leaning in to take a mace blow against the hard plate armor that protected her shoulder. Even through the metal, the blow hurt. "Burn in Tartarus!" she snarled, whipping her own blade around. The wielder of the mace, a brown-haired woman who looked roughly twenty years old, wasn't quick enough to avoid the blow. She crumpled to the ground, clutching feebly at the blood gushing from her chest. Tara had no time to bask in her triumph, as several blades kept her busy.
"Tara! Tar – mmph!"
The scream brought the warrior's head around with a snap. Bram was gone. There was a scantily-clad Amazon on the broad back of Cerberus. She was a tall woman, maybe even as tall as Tara herself; as such, she dwarfed the slender prisoner who was clutched in her muscular arms. Her hair was as black as coal. White teeth flashed as the woman grinned in Tara's direction. Epona was struggling helplessly – her hands had been tied behind her back, and one of the Amazon's hands was clamped tightly over her mouth. "You want her back, daughter of Ares?" the woman sneered. "Come and get her, if you can!" And she dug her heels into the warhorse's sides. The beast snorted and galloped off into the woods.
Tara gave a cry of denial. In her distraction, she very nearly let one of her attackers chop off her left arm. She dodged the blow – barely. She felt rather than saw the arrows that flew at her then, and dove behind a nearby tree to avoid them; one stung the flesh of her back as it sliced the air. More arrows followed, and still more, until Tara had to hunker down behind a large stone to avoid the rain of death. She heard more horses, and a couple of shouts. Then the arrows stopped flying.
Immediately, Tara leaped from her hiding place, her sword still drawn in her hand…but the clearing was empty. She was alone.
Her breath came in deep pants. Her first instinct was to charge after the horses to try to recover her stolen property, but the Amazons had been thorough – no less than five different trails left the campsite, in five directions. Tara ground her teeth in helpless rage. She was starting to feel dangerously close to hysterics.
Okay. Okay, calm down. Epona needs you…think, woman. Think! The warrior looked around to see what she had left. She hadn't yet unloaded the saddlebags, and so all of her gear was gone, as well as her shield and javelin. All the food had been with the horses – and the bedrolls – and her cloak. The only things she had left were the armor and weapons she was wearing, the water skin, and the currycomb. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it all…those thrice-damned bitch harpies! Slowly, she turned to the broken form of the one she'd managed to hit.
The young woman was plainly dead. Her mace lay nearby. Tara inspected it for a moment before thrusting it into her belt – she wasn't going to waste a weapon that might come in handy later. There was nothing else of value on the body. Tara looked at the girl's belt, and soon came across a mark tooled into the leather that looked like a stylized bow. Although she didn't recognize that specific symbol, she knew it to be the mark of an Amazon clan. Huh. Well, it isn't the mark of any of the three villages I razed. Impatiently, Tara got up and went to examine the five trails that led out of the camp.
As wily as the Amazons were, there was no disguising the huge hoofmarks left by Cerberus. Tara soon found them. "Ah," she muttered. "There you are." Her brown eyes narrowed and flashed dangerously as she lifted them to glare into the peaceful-looking woods. "You'd better run, you Amazon bitches," she growled. "You'd better run!" And she took off at a run, following the trail of Epona's captors.