Jute’s Stories

When held up to light it glistened like liquid amber but the fiery liquid burned her throat on the way down. She swallowed and wondered how many more drinks it would take to reach oblivion. As the thought of his fingers caressing her skin floated through her memory she knew it would be at least one more.

He’d said he loved her. But then he’d said a lot of things. His dark, sweet voice echoed his lies in her mind.

The jingle of her coins hitting the bar captured the attention of the barkeep. Without a word he placed another small cup of the powerful liquor before her. The barkeep glanced at the woman wondering briefly what brought her here to this place. The delicate hand reaching out for the drink was still relatively steady. She held her liquor well, he’d give her that, but somehow he thought she felt that was a curse instead of a blessing. Why they came didn’t matter to him, so long as they paid. He turned to another patron as the woman downed the drink.

“Taye, I’ve looked all over for you. He wants to see you.” The words whispered by the slim young man were gauged so as not to carry further in the crowded bar than her ears.

“I’d have you tell him to go to hell, but I’d rather not share my current life with him.” The woman retorted wryly as she raised her drink to the fellow before her.

The messenger nervously shifted from one foot to the other, while his eyes darted around the room. “Taye, you know if I don’t bring you back it won’t go well for me.”

“I truly am sorry for you my friend,” Taye shook her head in regret, “but I will not be returning with you. Perhaps you’d care to join me in a drink before you go. I haven’t found it dulls the pain quite as advertised but you might find it more helpful.” She saluted him with her glass.

His eyes once again scanned the room for listeners. “He said if you wouldn’t come with me that he will wait for you at the usual place tonight. He’ll be there until midnight.” She’d either go or not, he couldn’t do more than he had. He shook his head at her folly as he slipped out as quietly as he’d come.

She was glad the flutter in her gut wasn’t reflected by a trembling in her hands. She wanted him to report back to his Master that all was well. The slim hand reached again for the glass, but was stopped just short of it’s destination as her wrist was gently captured in another’s grip.

“You’ve had enough Taye.” She recognized that slightly husky female voice as her sister’s.

“I’m still conscious, Shaeme so I obviously haven’t.” Taye looked up at her sibling, the wide eyes looking back at her held a glimmer of compassion that was her undoing. She bit her lip hard to hold back the tears.

“Please,” Taye whispered. “take me out of here before I totally humiliate myself.”

To look at them, no one would take them for sisters, one with silky silver hair, framed a heart shaped face. She was a beauty by any measure; sooty eyelashes surrounded almond shaped eyes. She had full rosy lips, high cheek bones and delicate nose. Shaeme was tall and obviously strong though she was not at all masculine looking. More than one male had noted with pleasure her generous curves.

The second sister was equally tall and well muscled but where the silver haired Shaeme wore armor that displayed her figure, Taye’s was hidden by her robes. Her hair was a glossy dark brown, sometimes mistaken for black in contrast to her pale skin. Her nose was sprinkled with a dusting of freckles and her wide green eyes were rounder and larger than her sister’s. Where Shaeme’s face was classically beautiful, Taye’s was nothing more than ordinary.

The sliver haired sister steadied the dark haired one as they moved from the tavern into the night air; Taye’s arm wrapped around Shaeme’s shoulders, with Shaeme’s arm around Taye’s waist.

“What’s wrong with me Shae?” Taye’s whispered voice held a bewildered that twisted Shaeme’s heart. “I’m good enough when the bastard is lusting, but not good enough to be seen with him in public, so he sends his lackey to beckon me like a cheap whore. Just like our mother.”

The soft words were like shards of glass being driven into her flesh and Shaeme felt every ounce of her sister’s pain. Helpless, she could do nothing but listen to Taye’s bemused sorrow.

By the time they reached the doorway of the rented room, Taye had finally found her desired oblivion and Shaeme was thankful for the recent conditioning her fight training had given her as she carried her unconscious sister the last few feet to the bed.

Quickly and efficiently she readied her for bed, loosening her clothing and tucking her under the covers. As she smoothed the dark hair back from her sibling’s face, she regretted her earlier promise to Taye. She was bound by her word to stay out of this. Taye, knowing the power her lover had and just exactly what he could do to her sister should he choose, had begged and threatened until Shaeme had reluctantly given her vow.

Shaeme was a woman who lived by her word and because of that she could only entertain herself with visions of what she’d like to do to the local Lord, the man was the source of her sister’s pain.

Regretfully Shaeme rose and moved from the small room, she had to return to the student barracks. Closing the door quietly behind her she wished her sister at least a few hours of rest.

Shaeme had already left and so didn’t hear Taye moan softly in her sleep, apparently even the blanket of unconsciousness was not enough to do more than dull the ache in her heart.

He was sleeping now. She knew because as she’d woken and started to rise for her trip to the city to meet Shaeme, he’d slipped into bed beside her and gently pulled her back. Business was pressing and she needed to leave, but she would never turn down a chance to feel him close to her. His body nestled spoon fashion against hers, his arm around her waist, their fingers entwined, she lay there savoring his nearness.

It was moments like these where words failed her she wished she could take out her feelings and show them to him like a picture so he would understand the depth of her love for him. Her mind was always racing and her body seldom still, but when he was close to her like this all the noise went away and she felt at peace. It was like the kiss of the warm spring sun after a long cold winter. Like the taste of buttered bread after a long fast. He made her complete.

As she lay there listening to his even breathing, she wished she could suspend this moment in time and be here with him forever. Regretfully she sighed and slipped out of bed. Quietly, so as to not wake him, she picked up her gear and silently dressed.

As she bent to pick up her sword belt, she caught sight of her reflection in the polished glass mirror. Her tanned face was still mostly unlined and her grey-green eyes sparkled with a youth that belied the streaks of silver in her dark hair. Her fingers threaded the silver and black strands into a thick braid and she turned to gaze at the sleeping form.

He was years older than she, but his elven heritage meant he did not know the whisper of lost youth she was feeling. He looked half her age, more like her son than a lover. Would he stay with her as she withered and grew frail?

He had said that he wanted to stay with her forever, in those quiet times when lovers shared their innermost thoughts. Was forever different for a human than an elf?

If you asked her enemies, they would tell you she feared nothing, but here in the dawn light she felt the kiss of fear that she would lose him to an ancient, undefeatable foe, one that marched at a different pace for her than for him. Time was her enemy.

But nothing was certain. As a warrior, she might not out last the day’s sunlight. Even now she knew her enemies were closing in.
Gazing at his sleeping form she thought of how we all try to hold onto the things we love in life. She could hold on to him no more than she could hold a snowflake. She didn’t have the power to stop time and she couldn’t change her birth race from human to elf. He was the best thing that had ever come into her life. Her choice was simple, to let the time they had together be riddled with her doubts and poisoned by her fears or she could resolve to live each day one at a time and drink in the happiness she felt while he was near.

One last, soft kiss to her sleeping lover and she was on her way. As she stepped into the cold morning air, a cloud passed over to obscure the sun and a light sprinkle of snow began to fall. She reached out her hand, and watched as a snowflake gently settled into the center or her out-stretched palm.

The pain was a valuable lesson. She’d have to be faster to avoid the blow.

Shaeme use the back of her hand to quickly daub the slow trickle of blood from her sore nose. Her opponent almost concealed a satisfied smirk at the gesture, and Shaeme’s eyes narrowed slightly with determination. She settled back into her fighting stance, hands balled into relaxed fists, feet shoulder width apart, weight distributed evenly, eyes watching for any indication of movement.

Still, with all her vigilance, the fist snaked out, a dull meaty thud indicated fleshy contact with her midsection and Shaeme doubled from the pain and loss of breath. She stumbled but stayed on her feet.

She was paying for her earlier arrogance now.

Kaeti wasn’t purposelessly vengeful, this was an important lesson. The same lesson Shaeme had inadvertently dealt her earlier. Never be too confident. Through the haze of pain Shaeme noted Kaeti was a good teacher. She would not forget this.

It had started innocently enough, Shaeme had been one of the new students lined up in the school’s training room, eager to absorb the ways of unarmed combat. Shyly she glanced around at the others. Her gaze settled on a typical example of the group. A tall male, well-groomed with obviously expensive clothes, she wondered how many of her companions had ever done a day’s worth of hard labor. Glancing down at her own work worn hands, surreptitiously she curled her them into small fists, hoping to hide the irregular nails and calloused fingers.

A prickling feeling at the base of her spine caused her to raise her gaze and her slate grey eyes locked with the pale blue ones of the tall male. His lips curled in a slight sneer and Shaeme defiantly stared back.

The echo of footsteps shifted her attention away from the arrogant male as two new individuals entered the training hall. The first wore flowing garments of midnight black rimmed with blood red, the symbol of ‘Sie’, the highest rank of combat teacher. She knew the slight appearance of this man was a dangerous deception. He was shorter than she was by almost half a head, and his flowing garments concealed his muscular frame. She had seen him practicing alone in the garden without his obscuring garments, his sinuous movements mesmerizing. The sweat glistened off his rippling muscles as his sword repelled his phantom opponent. She smiled slightly now remembering her thoughts. She had appreciated the fine line of his body as much as his fine work with the sword.

The second individual was clothed in red garments rimmed with black which Shaeme recognized as the symbol of ‘Sier’ the second highest combat teacher ranking. This woman would probably be their instructor. She was about the same height as Shaeme, which put her equal with the average male. The supposition of instructor was confirmed as the woman stepped forward to remove her outer garments revealing generous curves. Her long white hair was coiled neatly out of the way atop her head. She didn’t smile, but her face was kept from a look of total gravity by a sparkle in her dark eyes.

The Sie introduced himself as Kaeto, the owner of the school and his female companion as Kaeti, his best teacher, who be the instructor for the day’s lesson. Introductions complete, he bowed slightly and with hands clasped behind his back he stepped to back of the room.

“Each of you will step forward at my signal and once you have yourself in a ready stance and the signal is given, you will attempt to strike me.” Kaeti’s soft voice carried surprisingly well and Shaeme was sure all had heard her clearly.

“You,” she pointed to the only other female student besides Shaeme, “When we are ready give the signal to attack.” The woman nodded and moved forward into the corner of the fighting area.

Kaeti gestured to the first of the dozen people in the room. The lanky male moved into the cleared space and readied himself.

“Now!”, the female student yelled.

The male lurched forward and with an almost lazy slap to his extending arm, Kaeti deflected his blow to slide harmlessly past her head. The stunned look on the student’s face was priceless. The scene was repeated time and again as the student moved back and another one took his place.

Shaeme swallowed nervously as Kaeti gestured it was her turn. Moving into position, Shaeme raised her clenched fists in readiness. A sharp call from the starter and Shaeme shifted her weight slightly forward as she extended her right arm in an attempted blow. As expected Kaeti, easily deflected the blow but then something happened for Shaeme. Without conscious thought, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as almost of its own volition her left arm extended with a blow to Kaeti’s midsection. The satisfying grunt and the solid feel of flesh signaled it had connected.

This time the comical look of surprise was on the instructor. Kaeti quickly recovered her composure at the amused snort from the back of the room. Shaeme whirled to follow the sound and saw Kaeto slip into the shadows as he walked away.

The room was dead silent and Kaeti said nothing as she gestured Shaeme back into line.

Later, Kaeti had indicated she would show them some sparring techniques and had volunteered Shaeme as her partner. The current bloodied nose and shortness of breath had been the result. Not willing to humiliate herself to ask for respite, Shaeme pulled herself erect and dropped into position suppressing a groan of pain. But with a sharp flick of her wrist her instructor signaled the lesson was over and Shaeme gratefully moved out of the sparring ring.

“Tomorrow we start the real training.” Kaeti announced. “Class dismissed!”

As she slowly walked out of the training hall towards the student barracks Shaeme caught a flash of blood red cloth with the corner of her eye. She whirled but only shadows greeted her gaze. A twinge of pain brought her back to reality. She was sore now, but it would be worse tomorrow. Ruefully she hoped she hadn’t condemned herself by her own actions to Kaeti’s permanent practice dummy. If she had, it would be a very difficult year.