10
The sun stood at the noon position. Two weeks to the big day. Jenny watched a group of men creeping forward, suddenly disappearing beneath an 83rd century visibility mediation shield. The late period tools were really complementing strategy.
She'd been walking through camp for the last few hours, and she was pretty well satisfied. Her troops knew their work, and their battalion leaders had drilled them constantly. The leaders themselves had really shaped up once they got over the idea that people would listen to them just because they were Chosen.
"Chieftain." Jenny turned to a slight, Asian girl. The troops had picked up the habit of calling her Chieftain Jenny, and that was good. A soldier should show respect for their superiors. The girl threw a salute, which Jenny returned. "Battalion leader Willow."
Willow dropped the salute with wide eyes. "Chieftain, you must see what my men have done."
Jenny grimaced. "Shit. Have they brought another bull into camp?"
"No. For once what they made was good. Come!"
Willow's battalion was made up of Darinii, Erdinii, a band of Fian and thirty percent of the Valera Fighters, a troop meant to move with speed and fight with ferocity. There were five battalions like hers, called the fleet battalions. All of them were well-trained, intelligent, and eager for the fight. They were also the hardest to keep in order. Jenny followed Willow to her part of the training ground. From two hundred feet down the road she could see the blue white and orange and purple crackles of energy weapons.
"Nice job, Willow." she said happily. "How did you finally get them to use the—" Then she got a little closer, and her blue eyes grew wide in her pale face. The men, wearing plas-metal armor that their late-period members had introduced decorated with personal sigils and protective symbols, were holding spears. But these spear-tips crackled with energy, and when the men stabbed them forward bolts of energy shot ahead, obliterating targets that took seconds to reform.
"Is this good by you, then?" Mag Rui asked as he came up to them. His spear glowed orange.
"Where did you guys get these?" Jenny asked in shocked admiration. A grin split the big man's bearded face. "Finn MacCool thought in the giving place of a spear he would be proud to wield in battle. And he imagined it with the fire the guns give in the tip of it. This is what came of it." He hefted his. "And a fine thing it is too."
"Yeah." Jenny said, "You've got great accuracy and agility with them. How's the range?"
For answer, the man jabbed his spear forward and down. A patch of turf sizzled two hundred feet away.
"Nice!" Jenny exclaimed. "These are stellar! Pass the idea on to the other fleet battalions, okay?" Mag Rui nodded, and walked back to his practice. Standing still, Jenny watched the men wield their weapons with a fierce grin. "They're great! They'll really have an edge on the field."
"You've taught them much." The battalion leader said. "You have been of great aid to us." She turned to look at Jenny earnestly. "It makes you a target for the enemy."
"Don't worry, Willow." Jenny said, a little surprised. "They can't get at me in camp."
"Perhaps." Willow said, "But they will try to get the name and control of you. Be careful, Chieftain."
Jenny nodded. "I'll keep it in mind."
…..
The Walker crawled forward slightly, looking over the brow of the hill. She held her viewing screen to her eyes.
Yes, Father was right. There are two more British regiments down there. Another two hundred men.
Then her force is twice the size of ours.
The Walker nodded. Exactly twice. She'd grown comfortable with his form of telepathy in the past months. It was strong, but it was also pleasant after its own fashion. It had been strange adjusting to, even in terms of sensation; while human thoughts were somewhat muddy and multicolored and Time Lord thoughts generally appeared in the mind tinged with gold, Ramble's thoughts were silver in her head.
It was quite liberating, though. The Walker had spent a great deal of time among humans when she'd been married, and had to guard herself against slipping into telepathy, even with her husband, even in the height of passion. Human minds could handle only the most delicate of telepathic connections in general. This…friendship was different. It was lovely to be around a mind that would never be overwhelmed by hers inadvertently, she thought. Then she noted that Ramble had stiffened.
"Oh look. Two peeping mice."
Ramble put a hand on the Walker's back, and they were something else. There was a low laugh behind them.
"Stand up, little half-blood, and face your elder."
Slowly, Ramble stood. "I greet you, old one. You fight for she who is Maeve."
"And you, little mouse." the woman said. At least, she had the shape of an old woman, though her skin was a deep grayish blue. She smiled. There were fangs in her mouth. "Why do you approach our camp?"
"To keep ourselves as equal opponents to you." Ramble replied coldly. The old woman cackled. "Equal? Your men are not enough."
"We shall see.
She turned her black eyes on the Walker. "And what is this little morsel? She yours?"
The Walker stood, holding herself as straight as she could. "I'm the Walker." She said, attempting to project some sense of who and what she was the way Ramble did.
"I see." the woman said. She stared at them. "What are you called, boy?"
Ramble met her eyes and her seeking mind. "They call me Ramble." He gave both parts of his name, word and concept. And the Walker nearly started. There was a new impression included in his name. And it was her, her name and nature, Time Lord gold mixed into his Eternal silver. He had included her essence as a part of himself.
The thing that looked like a woman smiled. "Handfasted so young, child. And to one so…interesting."
The two Eternals stared at one another for a long moment.
"As you will then." She cackled. Then she was gone.
"What was that all about?" The Walker asked. Ramble shrugged. "Insults for the greater part." He glanced down the hill. "We are near camp. Come."
They walked down onto the plain in silence.
"Ramble?" the Walker asked quietly.
"Yes?"
"You included me in your name. Why did you do that?"
"It put you under my protection." he replied, "She could not touch you without facing me for it."
"Oh." The Walker said, "Of course."
Ramble paused to help her over a stone. "Does it trouble you?"
"Oh, no."
"Then…would it trouble you if…if I left it there?"
The Walker's eyes shot to his green gaze. He quirked a half-smile. "It suits me well. I…enjoy the sound of it there."
"Then…" the Walker swallowed, "I suppose. If you like."
Ramble smiled, and laid a kiss on her forehead. Thank you, bheir me o.
"What does that mean?"
Ramble grimaced. "My weakness once more. I had not meant for you to hear that. I apologize."
Then he walked on.
…
Night had finally fallen, and the fires were lit. The last night before the battle, music came from many camps, keeping up spirits.
Jenny walked the beaten lanes of camp, hands in the pockets of a big leather coat she'd found in the wardrobe. She'd taken to wearing it in the evenings. It felt a bit like armor to her, made her feel a little stronger.
Horses wickered to one another. Men and women talked, laughed, and joked. Here and there amorous pairs walked close together or nodded tents. Jenny nodded to herself. Sex was a great way to diffuse the building tension.
Walking through the pavilion square, she noted a light on in the Lady's pavilion. For a moment, the second silhouette looked familiar. But then it was gone.
Walking past Leaf's battalion post, she spotted William sitting close to Mary, whispering. William glanced up, then grinned, beckoning. "Miss Jenny!"
"Hey William." Jenny said. She glanced at Mary. "The Lady send somebody to pick you up?"
Mary nodded. "Her Ladyship sent one of her people."
"That was nice of her." Jenny said. Mary and William both nodded. Three months of good food and new sets of clothes had done wonders for them both, and Jenny was pleased to see how fit they looked.
"Miss Jenny," William said, meeting her eyes, "I just wanted to say, well…good luck tomorrow, miss."
"You too." Jenny said. "You're flying, right?"
"Oh yes. They taught me how."
"Good. Then get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."
Then she walked on, into the dark.
…
The Walker moved through the darkened camp, coming to the proper battalion camp. Men walked by, smiling against the fear in their eyes.
She should make this quick, so he could get some rest. Although, he had told her Eternals didn't actually need to sleep. She'd learned a great deal about his kind in the past month.
Approaching the tent, she calmed her mind.
Ramble? Could I have a word?
Ramble opened the flap of his tent, his eyes inquisitive. "Come in. What is it?"
A suit of plas-metal armor was laid out on the floor of his tent, green on deeper green in swirling designs that glinted in the light of a few candles.
"Were you back in the eighteenth century again?" the Walker asked solicitously, noting the green velvet coat that Ramble wore over his tunic and leather leggings. He nodded.
"Scouting. I think no more men will join her from that place."
"Well, there's some relief in that, I suppose." She said. Ramble nodded, dropping to the wide mattress that took up most of his tent. "Sit, if you would." He said, nodding to the wide mattress. The firelight played over his face.
Not wise. She thought. Every time you sit near him, you become slightly unreasonable.
She sat. "I wanted to talk to you about the gates. Do you think we should perhaps close them tomorrow morning? To prevent further repercussions on Earth."
Ramble nodded thoughtfully. "A wise idea. I will tell the Lady." He blinked, and nodded once more."She will see to it."
"Oh. Good."
For a moment, they sat in silence.
"I've been meaning to ask you." The Walker said in a would-be calm voice, "What does 'bheir me o' mean? You said it a few weeks ago. The words didn't translate."
"That is because I enjoy the sound of them."
"And what do they mean?"
Ramble glanced at her, and glanced away again."Bhier me o croi. Friend of my heart."
The Walker blinked. "Oh. I see."
He looked up sharply, meeting her eyes. "I have not offended you, have I?"
"No."
He nodded, and swallowed. "There is a thing I wish to say. I do not wish to annoy or offend. But… I think that…I am… I…I am…" His fingers twined in the velvet of his coat as he sighed, a frustrated rush of air. "I have no skill with these things. Words."
She couldn't help but laugh, a little. In the three months that she'd known the man, she'd never seen him quite this frustrated. "What words are you looking for, precisely?"
His eyes met hers, and their amber-green intensity caught her breath. "The right ones. And I cannot find them. But this must be said. And…" He leaned towards her, his long fingers brushing her hand as his thoughts brushed hers. The velvet of his coat left a trail of goosebumps down her arm. "If I may?"
She stared into his eyes a moment. So much longing, and hope.
Carefully, she opened her mind.
Ramble's thoughts were a tapestry silver, of sensation and emotion, symbols and perfect definitions. This was his true tongue; the weavings of thought and sensation, directly transmitted between individuals. Even the words his people did use were only shorthand for this, a shortcut around true communication. He could find no words because he had never had to translate his emotions into such a simple system. And now, he was showing her what he felt for her. Her hearts beat faster.
"Ah. I see." Now it was her turn to gulp.
She should not feel like this. She had far better control of herself. Calm down.
"My language has words for that. I'll have to teach you some time."
"Some languages are older." He said softly. "And some need no teaching."
"Like yours."
"Like mine. But I…" He was so close to her, eyes like forest pools. "I have never felt like this. This is not a thing I understand."
She smiled in the half-light, her eyes black as the night sky. "You're not the only one. Most species in the universe struggle with…this."
Her breath was unsteady in her lungs, and growing less controlled the longer their eyes met. She had always been too emotional. Too prone to passions. For some perverse reason, the voice of an old professor rang in her head.
Being Time Lords, we are above such nonsensical reactions of the instincts.
Well, she'd always thought that man a bit of a prig.
Ramble's voice was just above a whisper in the dark.
"I have never been…I want to walk rather than move from place to place, because it gives me more time with you. You…I think of you. You make me…understand, so much I understand now. When I see things, I wonder if they would please you or amuse. I find myself…appearing near your tent or in your ship, when I had not intended to. Is this…does this happen?"
She nodded. Stay calm!
He smiled. "I do not even know that. I have so many things to learn. To experience."
"Experience is a great teacher."
He smiled tentatively. "And I do love to learn. So if I…" He reached out one long hand, moving so slowly, so afraid that it would meet resistance. His fingers traced the line of her collar bone, so hot against her skin.
Every inch of her seemed to come awake. She shouldn't respond like this. She had never intended…All the old rules welled up in her head. This was far too much. She was going to go too far. He was another telepath, if they continued she wouldn't be able to resist linking to him, and who knew what that would do. She was going to do something that profound, on the spur of the moment? And how long had she known him? Barely three months. She was a Time Lord, she was above reaction, she should just get up, say good night, and return to her own quarters. They would enter battle soon, there were plans to be made…But she met his eyes, amber and moss, and the rules faded, falling away.
She leaned closer, moving with the same trepidation, her eyes on his.
"Then I might…"
Their lips touched. Slow. Gentle. Carefully they explored each other. It was impossible to tell who moved, but they drew closer, shoulders touching. Her hand wrapped itself in his curls, stark white against the dark. Every part of her seemed to be leaning in to him.
His fingers brushed and caressed her hair, then ran along the back of her neck. Every place he touched took the fire of his hot skin.
"And if I do this…." He whispered softly against her neck, tracing the curve of it with his lips.
"I may have to… agree. But if we go on…" She was not sure if she could keep her mind cool and controlled. Not this time. Not with him.
A chuckle came, low and throaty, close to her ear. "Never fear, bheir me o. I can match you in that."
Of course he could. He was an Eternal. What had she been thinking?
His kiss fell just a bit below the hollow of her throat, and his thumb found a place just in front of her ear. She gasped. If he did that again, she wouldn't be able to think lucidly much longer. A part of her that she had kept restrained, oh, so carefully, was yearning to break free. Could she explain to him everything that this action entailed for her people? For her?
"I'll need…I might-"
He nodded against her throat. "I know." And somehow, she was sure that he did.
Suddenly, his head came up again; eyes meeting hers with intensity that she hadn't known existed. "There is much I do not know, my Walker. But I know that I mean… this… as more than a meeting of sensations. I feel…I feel that I would have you, if I may. Have you as…" he kissed her throat absently, thinking, then said a soft word. He said it aloud, and he said it in her mind; mate and friend and lover and partner, all rolled together. His eyes locked on hers. "That is how I would have it. Would you have me?"
Life itself seemed to slow to a standstill. She could sink into those hopeful eyes, into the bright corona of his timelessness. She drew a breath. "I would."
His smile was small and dusky, and yet there was more in its shadows than all the stars in the sky. "Well enough, then."
His head bent again, and the Walker gasped as teeth found the point of one small breast through fabric, as the link was opened and made. His mind was wide open to her, and it was like nothing she had ever seen. It was like looking into the Untempered Schism again; so many things that he saw, all at once, endless events in time and place, all happening in the same moment for him. She saw herself in his eyes, the beauty and simple complexities of her, so many things that puzzled and entranced . But he saw in levels; she saw her own face, and she also saw the time traces wrapped around her, the millions of cells that were her body, and the whirling molecules making them up. Yet it was all the same picture to him, all superimposed together in his sights. He sees Reality. All of it. Infinite possibility and minute detail. It was so much more than Time, than the threads and patterns she knew so well. She had seen a shadow of this before, but this swirling of light and possibility was more than she had ever thought a single mind could hold. How does he stand all that in his head? It was so much. Too much. A part of her wanted to dive into that maelstrom. Another part drew away from something so enormous. She almost laughed.
No wonder he's absent-minded.
A ripple of concern changed the patterns, and they simplified into his own sensation and emotion and ideas as he focused on this moment of time-space, letting his awareness of all others fall back. She could feel the blood rushing through Ramble's veins now. His breath seared her skin, and he shivered as she brushed a hand down his back. She could feel the zipping tingle that her cooler fingers evoked on his flesh. His fingers traced across the other breast and her breath hitched. "This is…easier if I take off-"
"I'll-"
"No." she said, intercepting the spark of his power, "I'd like it to exist later. Just let me-"
Slowly, carefully, she pulled off her shirt, then undid her bra, letting it fall. Ramble's eyes ran over the actions, both studious and enthralled.
"And now-" She reached over, found the edge of his coat, and helped him out of it. Her fingers found the hem of his tunic, and pulled it slowly up, revealing the pale skin beneath. He shrugged, and the tunic fell away into its component molecules. For a moment, he stared at her, his body shining in the darkness. His muscles were lean. His eyes roved up to hers. "And now…" He grinned slightly, irresistibly. He was going to…or if he didn't she was…
The next kiss was not patient, but heated, strong, each of them demanding and receiving. It deepened, and fingers traced across the back, tangled in dark hair, found purchase against muscle. Ice and fire touched. The Walker ran a hand down his spine, letting it rest just above the base. She pushed herself closer to him, finding the perfect place, deepening the kiss. He was growing hotter, and so was she. It felt as if all the blood in her body had raced to the surface of her skin, making it tingle with fire. Every point he touched burned. Every place she touched lit up in him. She could feel herself opening up, her body throbbing like a drum. He nibbled the ridge of her ear. "Patience, bheir me o."
His fingers moved slightly, finding all the right places. Her throat apparently wasn't going to work.
I am always patient. Always calm. I hate patience.
She traced her fingers down his chest, just to the band of his leggings, and he drew in his breath.
I think may as well.
She took a breath. "Well, you insisted."
Slowly, slowly she undid the fixture of his belt, and slowly pulled it off. Never mind her skin, her bones seemed to be thrumming now. He reached down a hand, placing it just under the top of her jeans. Such heat. He wanted to be touched so much, if she moved her fingers just a bit, just a little to the left-
Ramble's breathing came in tight gasps. Every candle in the tent put itself out. She traced the line of his pectorals with her lips, finding and awakening the nipples with her teeth. Her own body responded to the sensations in his. His hands clasped her, and he found the places on her skin that ached to be caressed. They rolled back as one, side by side, arms tight around each other, legs intertwining. She could feel him beneath his leggings, and her hips angled towards his of their own volition. The hand on her back moved lower. His mind was so full of wonder, each touch a new experience, but also of the same ancient need as her own. He was noticing the feeling of denim against leather, chafing at it, while the rest of his body took in her touch with such joy.
These are annoying.
And then all she could feel, all he could feel, was skin against skin, hot and cool and beautiful. Distantly, she wondered if he'd rematerialize her jeans later. He brushed the thought away with amusement. Right now, it was glorious not pausing for their removal.
They twined together, sharing bodies, sharing sensations, fingers and legs and lips pulling nerve chords into a symphony of sensation. Thoughts sparked and danced through their heads, shared and combining into fireworks that lit their minds, exhilarating, beautiful.
They did not speak, for now no words were needed between them. She rolled, and he rolled with her, until he was over her, his eyes locked into hers, twined like two halves of a knot, two parts of a whole. Each felt the other, and where one ended and the other began was nearly impossible to discern. The key found the lock, and they fit perfectly together, rising, arching into each other, shaking through each other, riding full tilt towards perfection. There was a wave of ice and fire building, all sensation culminating, bodies and minds blending into a seamless and breathtaking whole, locked tight together, sharing and feeling and living.
And then the wave crested, in a blaze of white-gold brilliance and two shuddering cries of ecstasy.
This is LIFE!
Yes. LIFE. Ours.
….
The strategy repeated itself in Jenny's head, playing out in different scenarios. All around, laughter and music rang. She'd wandered into the Fleet battalion area.
"Chieftain!" Mag Rui roared, "There ye are!"
Jenny smiled slightly, and entered the circle of firelight. Men and women welcomed her.
"Hello lass!"
"Our welcome, Chieftain!"
"Hey girl! Grab a seat!"
A cup of something was put into her hands as they welcomed her and found her a seat. Then somebody called out for a song. With a grin, a young Fian stepped up. He sang a hard, fast song that stated in the chorus that he was the kinsman of Death herself. Jenny clapped along, grinning fiercely.
The circle clapped. Then Kishe, a Valera fighter, clapped her on the back. "Your turn!"
Jenny grinned."Okay. You asked for it."
She taught them the words to 'I won't Back Down', 'Blasting Bastards Today' 'We're not Gonna Take It', 'Another one Bites the Dust' a song called 'The March of Cambreth' and 'Blasters, Balls and the Battering Ram' They taught her 'the Foggy Dew', 'Come Out you Black'n Tans,' 'The Rising of the Moon', "Paddy get a Plasma Gun' 'Flying through Fire' 'Set the Cannon on Kill' and a vicious Gaelic song insulting the men of Ulster.
Finn MacCool, a wiry man, laughed as she finished the last verse of 'This is How You Kick Them in the Canisters.' "Fine in battle and fine in song. I'd dearly love to have you in my Fian."
Jenny shook her head, brushing her silvery bangs out of her eyes. "Sorry, I'm already engaged."
"That you are." Mag Rui said, "And as such, you being our Chieftain and all, we thought to mark the occasion."
Jenny shook her head. "If you think you're going to get me smashed—"
"Na, na. Not mead. The lads were thinking. You're our chieftain, but you've got no arms of your own. So we…well, here." He pulled at a bundle that had been laying at his feet, and pushed the blanket open.
The plas-metal body armor was shining black and just her size, with the sheen of a good deflection field over it. Silver swirls accented it at the elbows and up the arms, down the calves, sometimes weaving into complex designs. The helmet was a fine silver circlet that she knew would create a deflective force field around her head and neck.
"Wow." Jenny ran her eyes up and down the armor, noting the sigil on the breastplate; a copper hawk with a white bolt of lightning striking from its talons."You guys…who put the symbol on?"
"I thought it appropriate." Starbuck, one of the Eternals, said. "A hawk on the wing, and a flash of brilliance. It is fitting for you."
Jenny nodded. "Yeah. Thanks!"
"And you don't think we'd send our Chieftain into battle with no arms, do you?" Finn said. He nodded to the Eternal. Almost shyly, he held out his hands. In them was a spear. It glowed, from the mahogany shaft to the copper-sheened blade inlaid with swirling gold and a single line of silver.
Reverently, Jenny took the spear. The tip crackled with white lightning. Holding the spear, she turned to her men. "This…guys…this absolutely kicks ass."
"Ash wood and star metal." said one young man. "It will be a good weapon."
"And will have a good blooding tomorrow." someone else said.
"And we will have a good night tonight." Finn declared, "For tomorrow we enter battle!"
As one, the warriors threw back their heads and bellowed out a cry. Spear held high, Jenny joined in the shout with all her might.
…
Outside, music and cheers could be heard. The Doctor and the Lady sat in comfortable silence, the candle between them flickering.
"So," he said, "We'll still have a couple repercussions."
The Lady nodded. "Echoes. Memories, and like as not refugees of my kind and those born half-eternal, half-mortal. Scattered through time."
"And stories." The Doctor agreed. "There are always stories. But that's to be expected."
The Lady nodded. "True." One long finger traced circles on the table top. "Doctor, has anyone said to you that you are lovely by candlelight?"
The Doctor quirked his lips in a smile. "My Lady, are you making a proposition?"
She smiled. "There are many tents shared by two tonight. We could take great joy in one another."
The Doctor smiled slightly, and shook his head. "The offer's a compliment, but I'm not what you're looking for. My mind would be pretty distracted, anyhow."
The Lady nodded. "I have seen that. Never fear, Storm-Heart. You have a flower in your soul. I will not try to dislodge it."
The Doctor let that pass without comment.
After a moment, the Lady looked into his eyes. "Another thing troubles you. The battle?"
The Doctor nodded. "Yes. The battle." he sighed. "Seems like there's always one more battle. Jenny worked me into the strategy by asking me to use my ship to look out for any synthetic environmental manipulation of the battlefield. Though if I'll be able to catch everything an Eternal would come up with I don't know."
"I will aid you in that." The Lady said quietly. She drew a deep breath."I have watched many wars, on many worlds. But I have no experience of battle. Not…personally."
The Doctor snorted. "You don't want to." He turned to look her in the eye, his face suddenly hard in the flickering light. "War is pain and hate and death. War is losing everyone, everything you have, even yourself. War is living with a fear so deep that it gnaws at your insides with every step you take. War makes you into a creature that you could never have imagined becoming, a creature that revels in death, and you hate yourself, and still go on with it, getting harder and crueler all the time until you can't remember a time when you weren't fighting."
Internally he noted that his tear ducts were beginning to react. He did his best to stop the process. But he couldn't get control of the break in his voice, nor how raw it sounded in his own ears as he spoke.
"And maybe after you've seen war, maybe then you'll wish you hadn't started it. You don't want to know war, Lady Rhiannon. But you will."
The Lady looked at him for a long moment. Her eyes widened. "You have done so much fighting. So much. You do not wish to fight."
"No." the Doctor murmured. He drew a shuddering breath, and wiped his face. "No. But I will."
…..
The embers glowed. Jenny had sent the fighters to bed hours ago, and now she sat alone, her armor at her feet and her spear by her side, wrapped in her warm leather coat and a decorated sheepskin someone had given her. Only the Eternals, sleepless, played drums that seemed to lull and comfort many of the fighters. Maybe they helped men forget tomorrow.
The drums formed a heartbeat in the night, almost matching Jenny's double rhythm. She stared into the coals, licked by flames. In the tent nearest the fire, small giggles and gasps intermingled with murmured words. The firelight danced, mesmerizing. Beyond it, the world was an unknown darkness. Wrapped in the warm sheep skin, she felt her eyelids droop.
Jenny fell asleep to the sound of drums and lovers moving together. A sound of readying, a sound of hope.