I think I know what it takes to get lots of reviews.
- It helps if you are a good writer.
My point is: review!! If it kills you, review!! I want that hits to reviews ratio to say 1 to 1!! Sigh. I hope people are listening…
Disclaimer: TP created most of the places and some of the people, they're all hers. The Swordsward I just really wanted to use as the name of a fief, and it is copyrighted to Alan Dean Foster (Spellsinger).
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Themma's Escapades
Chapter 4: Army Gal
Themma was now a respected part of the army. She didn't like lying, but her logic was that nobody ever asked if she was a girl, so she wasn't lying. That thought kept her happy. Sometimes she asked herself if what she was doing was right, what was the point of conquering this land? What was there to gain except "glory" and more lost lives? Sometimes Roald half convinced her of all his morals. Roald was a shy, quiet person who would never really speak out against his father. But she shook him off; her joy of battle was too much to sacrifice for such things. She liked living on the edge. The only thing that troubled her was her was her old convent friends. What were they doing now? Was Belle married to some stuffy nobleman by now? Did Jereice really run away to the Court of the Rogue? Whatever was Stella doing now? Under all that was the constant fear that someone would find out she wasn't just another "one of the guys". The fear that the Lord of Trebond or her parents would find her, even this far south and bring her home. Where was home, anyhow? Themma had always thought of the convent as home. She could never go back there now.
Distracted by her thoughts, she didn't notice Roald sit down beside her, with a friend. Them was in the mess tent, contemplating over a plate of beans and bread.
"Hey Thom, meet my friend, Rich." Roald gestured to his tall companion. Rich smiled and sat down next to Roald. "He finally got away from his noble wife to come down "where the action is."
Rich held out his hand, awkwardly, because Roald was sitting between them. "Sir Richard of Swordsward. That "noble wife" that Roald was referring to would be Belle of Henmann. Maybe you have heard of her?"
Themma nodded and inwardly smiled wryly. "Yeah, I think so. Her name rings a bell anyways." So Belle did get a noble husband, she thought, how interesting for her. Themma had met this Richard of Swordsward before, when Belle's parents had insisted she meet her possible future husband. Themma had put an illusion on his mirror, so that when he looked in it he saw the head of a giant, warty toad instead of his own handsome face. It hadn't helped that Jereice put a frog in his bed the night after. He had fled within three days, claiming the convent was haunted by amphibians.
But Rich seemed like a nice guy and they quickly made friends. Then the unthinkable happened. Alan of Trebond, who could barely lift a sword, was drafted in to the army by his father. When Themma heard about the new boy in the troops, she nearly fainted. She was dead. Forget that, she was worse than dead. She thought of faking her death and running away to be a hermit in the forest; but that wasn't going to happen. Alan would be sure to recognise her, she was his wife, after all. After five minutes of panicked thoughts, Themma nearly slapped herself in the face. Duh! Her illusions! If Loozie couldn't construct deception illusion that only Alan could see, then no one could. It made her tired and cranky, but she fooled Alan with her altered voice and looks. That was about to change…
"Hey Alan!" Roald called. Alan turned around to smile at him. "Have you seen Thom? I haven't glimpsed his purple lamps all day."
Alan looked at Roald strangely. "What do you mean, Roald? His eyes are green."
"Well, I guess you could call them a very dark green, if you saw them that way." Roald replied.
"No," said Alan, "His eyes are light green. Pale."
"Pale? No way. Thom's eyes are almost black." Roald looked as if he was checking Alan's sanity.
"Lets find out…"
***
"Hey Thom!" Roald's yell made her jump two feet in the air. Worse, her illusion flickered. As Themma turned around, Alan got a glimpse of her face.
"Themma?" he whispered.
In her fear, all Themma's illusion dropped. Alan could see her bright red hair, her deep purple eyes. His own eyes widened.
"Mithros, Themma, what the hell are you trying to pull off?" his voice was slowly rising. "Disguising yourself as a boy and then putting up and illusion, day and night, trying to make me not know you? You're insane, Themma, insane!"
Roald looked confused. "Themma?"
Alan turned to Roald, furious. "This here is Themma of Trebond, my wife. That bitch ran away almost a bloody year ago only ten months after we got married. This woman has been trying to keep up this charade and she failed." He turned to Themma. "Go back to your knitting, slut!" Fuming, he marched off, no doubt to tell the commander of Themma's secret.
Roald looked at her. "You really are a girl?" Themma nodded. "Maybe I knew all along, and was just hiding it from myself. But Tho- Themma, I damn well wish you were'nt married."
Before Themma could do anything, Roald had pulled her to him and embraced her in a soft kiss. Then just as suddenly as he had kissed her, he walked away, Leaving Themma with enough inner turmoil to tie her intestines in knots.
***
Themma, in a billowy dress that she didn't really hate, held her bags and waved goodbye. Half the people hated her, but Rich and Roald were still her friends. And she left, back to her noble husband, away from the only man she had ever truly loved. But she knew it could never be.
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Soppy. That was soppy. But whatever. I'm doing one more, maybe two more chapters to this, so don't rejoice yet.