Kleptomaniacstoat- nice review, you'll pay for the hatshesut line and if you say anything about this at school, you shall pay.
SpectralLady- thanx for making my story seem like the most lame ass thing on earth (blah-blah-blah!). I need to b kicked off the pedestal occasionally anyway.
Dazzler420- muahahaha! I have more up my sleeve than it seems!
Thanx to oceangirl, ephona, and all other ppl who liked my story
Enjoy! Please R & R!!!
Standoffs and Surprises
Hana went out first, her cloak masking her body movements so that the soldiers couldn't see where she was going. Kirima followed in seconds. Damara saw Hana reaching down for something out of her line of vision as she rolled up onto her knees and standing up. Her cloak covering her, she hopped out of the wagon, pausing for a second as Hana and Kirima fended off attackers with some liberated spears. Turning, she swiftly crawled under the wagon mindful of her shoulder. Looking around, she saw seven pairs of boots moving towards the wagon from the direction of an obvious doorway. Swiveling her head, she saw the boots of a squad of roman soldiers lurking near Hana and Kirima.
Clearing her mind, she looked down at the task at hand, or rather, the task at her hands. Since she could only use her right hand successfully, this was going to be hard. As if a divine being had heard her thoughts, a roman soldier collided with the ground nearest to her side of the wagon. Tied to his belt was a small dagger.
Damara leaned over, dragging him to close to the side of the wagon. As she pulled out the dagger, she looked at his face. She recognized him. He was a soldier who had been present at the campsite that day.
A large, creaking sound interrupted her thoughts. The girls' fight had moved over to behind a wagon adjacent to the container they had been in, probably containing their weapons. Hana or Kirima had shoved two soldiers into it simultaneously, causing it to tip over and land on it's side about three feet from Damara. Her guess had been right she saw, as her mace and chain spilled out along with other possessions. Her eyes narrowed and she reached out to grab it. Her hand closed around the thick cylinder of leather bound wood. As she grabbed it, she realized that the fight had moved closer to her than she'd realized. A sword slashed across her upper right forearm, causing her to grit her teeth and pull back her weapon. Thankfully it was only a slight gash. Finally, when she was back under the wagon, she fiddled with the stupid little iron pegs that kept her captive. Freeing herself, she heard a shout. Looking up, she realized that Hana and Kirima were on the opposite side of the wagon that they had been on, standing braced in front of the seven pairs of boots. Standing, not fighting.
As soon as Damara realized this, she heard a deep voice issuing from one of the pairs of boots near the center. They were telling her girls to drop their weapons and to cooperate with them, considering that they were prisoners. As if, Damara though with a snort. She looked down at her shoulder. She was left-handed with her large sword and this situation was going to present a problem soon. She didn't have enough space to reset her bone here under the wagon which meant that she would have to get out from under it and make her presence known. This was not going to please Hana and Kirima in the slightest bit.
"Damara", she heard Hana say in their language "they know that someone's under the wagon and they want you to come out". Damara could almost hear amusement in her voice. Very funny Hana, thought Damara, you'll pay for this.
Damara pushed her former bonds out, followed by her mace and chain. As she did, she could see some of the soldiers' faces. They couldn't see her face, only her shape, and they seemed surprised and anxious as she pushed her mace out. Pulling up her hood, she then crawled slowly out from under the wagon.
During the fighting, Arthur had told the knights to not engage the two figures that were expertly knocking romans unconscious, but Tristan and Dagonet had strung their bows anyway. They could all see a third figure moving around under the wagon. Gawain was disturbed by this because these figures weren't fighting like Woads, the third figure not fighting at all. They had seemed small for Woads, and it surprised Gawain that they hadn't taken a chance to kill Arthur. All of the Woads wanted to kill Arthur, so why hadn't they tried to?
Arthur's words knocked all of Gawain's thoughts aside. "Stop!!" he commanded in tones that didn't brook argument.
The hoods of the cloaks turned in his direction. "Drop your weapons and submit to the fact that you are prisoners of the Roman Empire", Arthur said. The hoods had recoiled slightly at the words "Roman Empire".
The figures moved, balancing their feet, and lowering their spears so that the heads touched the ground in front of them.
"Now tell your comrade under the wagon to come out. After that, you all must show yourselves" Arthur finished.
One of the figures spoke then. It surprised them all. She wasn't speaking the Woad tongue, but something distinctly different. It had sounded to Gawain as though there had been a name at the beginning, but he couldn't tell. As soon as the figure had spoken, some frayed rope ends with metal ends rolled out of the shadow of the wagon. It was soon followed by a fearsome weapon, a thick cylinder of leather bound wood to which was attached a chain with a huge spiked iron ball. Gawain started to wonder exactly what the romans had caught with their ever-extending net for a greater empire. Then the third figure crawled out, cradling it's left shoulder. From where Gawain was standing, it looked as though the shoulder had been dislocated. The figure stood up slowly, with obvious pain in it's movements. Then there were all three, standing silently.
"Uncloak yourselves. Now" Arthur said imperiously.
The two closer to the knights, who had been fighting hesitated, one even turning to look at the wounded figure. It nodded, as if giving permission. And then came the greatest surprise.
Damara slowly unbuttoned her voluminous cloak, leaving her hood for last. Hana and Kirima had shed theirs moments earlier, leaving her as if for a grand finale. She might just have to throw them off a cliff for this one, she thought. It was almost as if she was back at her aunts court, a trophy put on a stand for people to look at. Her hood whispered as it slid off against her hair, her cloak joining Hana and Kiri's on the ground.
As soon as she had revealed herself along with the girls, the seven men in front of her looked as if they had been hit in the face by a friend. They could now obviously see their unforgivable mistake, Damara thought with a sense of grimness. She and her comrades had no signs of Woads upon them, nor would she want to be related to a people whose language sounded as if they had a speaking problem.
She noticed that all of the men she was standing before had at least a slight attractiveness to them, some of them being downright handsome. Their obvious leader seemed silent, completely affirmed in his role as commander, and also way too old for her. Although an interesting prospect that Hana and Kiri were sure to try and initiate, considering her bloodlines.
There was a curly haired man standing next to him that looked like his brother, and also greatly attractive. Damara noted him for this, and also made a mental note to stay away, certain that he was a playboy. There were two who looked alike as well, one bald and the other with a shaved head. A tall, silent man looked on at them, a disquieting lack of emotion on his face, whereas next to him stood a most innocent looking young man, just past teenage. That left one of the most compelling men she had ever seen.
He had long, tangled blond hair and was dressed in a variation of armor, as were all of them except for the leader, who was dressed in roman battle gear. The attractive man was staring with a surprised look on his face. Good, Damara thought with a smile, they're unsettled by us.
The pain in her shoulder refocused her attention to where it should be. She hated showing weakness in front of these men. She downright despised it. A thought came to her and she smiled grimly, reaching for her incapacitated left hand.
When Arthur had ordered the figures to uncloak themselves, Gawain had heard a bit of bitterness for the Woad warriors. They had after all, just rendered almost entire squad of Roman soldiers unconscious. Not that Gawain cared that the soldiers were all going to be aching when they woke up. It just showed that these were rather disciplined woads, exemplary ones.
Then, they had taken the cloaks off.
Gawain forgot to take in air. He couldn't even work his lungs.
Two of the most exquisite women he had ever seen had shed the billowing layers of fabric that they wore, wearing as much clothing as Gawain had expected from Woads. But then their obvious leader had shed theirs. And the most beautiful woman Gawain had ever seen met the harsh daylight of Briton.
She had honey brown hair that reached a few inches below her shoulders, green-brown eyes, and an incredibly curvy body. She was also very tall, about five feet and a half, and fit her skin very well.
She smiled slightly, looking over his companions with a comprehension bright in her eyes. When her eyes met his, he thought that he must have died, because he was seeing a heavenly spirit. Then she did the toughest thing that he had ever seen a woman do.
She smirked at him, spreading her smirk to all the knights and Arthur and grabbed a hold of her left hand. It had hung, numb, bloody at the wrist. She then stooped slightly, put her hand between her knees, and pressed them together so that her hand wouldn't move. Still staring at the knights imperiously, she moved her right hand against her shoulder in a swift motion, popping it back into place with a show of force unseen from any other woman in Gawain's life.
She breathed with relief slightly as she straightened slowly. Looking at Arthur, she spoke.
"Arturius Castus?" she asked.
"Who are you, lady?" Arthur asked, slightly shocked by the woman's past actions.
She stared at him impassively.
Damara was unsure of how to introduce herself to Arthur. He was after all, a renowned roman commander and she wasn't exactly sure how her footing was with the roman government. Especially after all that Hana and Kirima had done in the past ten minutes. To hell with it, she thought.
"I am Damara, and these are the last warriors of my former crew" she said, a tinge of bitterness in her tone.
"You're not Woad" a statement, not a question.
"No" she gave no quarter.
"If you're not Woad, then what are you?" he asked.
She straightened even more. "We are the last of the true tribe Rio Zhida of the Amazons (pronounced she-da). We only roam peacefully. Until your soldiers found us" she said.
Arthur considered this slowly.
She spoke again "If we could explain to you in private, it would be much better. We meant you no harm, and we still do not."
Arthur nodded. He motioned for the girls to go through a doorway behind him, but Damara spoke again.
"May I be permitted to do one thing before we speak?" she asked, her emotions hidden now.
Arthur nodded after a moment's consideration.
She spoke an command to Hana in their tongue. Hana looked at her, sorrow and understanding in her eyes. Reaching to her boot, Hana freed one of her reclaimed throwing knives. Bringing it up to her hand, she pressed it to her palm, letting the blood flow. She then passed it to Kirima, who cut herself slightly on the forehead, only enough for a little blood. Kiri passed it to Damara then.
Damara took ahold of the hilt, staring at her friends' blood, remembering her slaughtered crew, five dead, and one missing. All for Rome's conquests. Without a moment's hesitation, she brought the knife to the top of her chest and cut it, letting her blood flow freely onto the blade. Then she looked for the soldier who had ordered her comrades' deaths.
Gawain had been more than slightly stunned when the women had started to cut themselves, with no visible reaction to the pain of the cuts that they self-inflicted. The leader, Damara, looked around, obviously searching for someone.
She then stiffened. She walked slowly over to the once-smug soldier who had announced himself to Arthur. His face had gone white when she had spotted him. She was visibly restraining herself from hitting the man, Gawain could tell. She then threw the bloody knife at his feet, and spun on her heel.
Damara's sorrow overwhelmed her, as did her rage, and she fought to control it all as she went through the door that Arthur had indicated, into a dark hallway….