Inspiration: Thanks to Rob Tapert, Missy Good, George Lucas and the Coca-Cola corporation for the wisdom, insight and caffeine. You made it possible, guys.
Special thanks to: Chandra, Brenna and Callisto, for the positive feedback...I really appreciate the support, y'all. Hugs all around ("Group hug!")
The warmth of the midday sun hit her back, and she squinted across the field, seeking a nice shady place to spar. Finding one mere yards away, she signaled to Mabenti and crossed the necessary distance towards a medium-height birch tree. The women stood a few paces from each other, eyeing each other warily, then drew their swords almost on cue. Serbindi flicked a glance in his direction. “Keep out of the way,” she warned.
He smiled, seemingly amused by her concern. “I would not dream of doing otherwise.”
She returned the smile with a feral one of her own. “Good.” And attacked.
It was sudden, but not unexpected. Mabenti met the blow easily, and matched it with a few double-parries. Attempting to use her smaller stature and low center of gravity to her advantage, she aimed a few slices to her opponent’s knees. Serbindi deflected the weapon almost casually, jumping to kick the sword out of Mabenti’s grasp. The petite Amazon simply rolled into a tumble, and landed with one knee hitting the ground, metal clashed against metal, a determined gleam in her eyes. She drew back for a disabling blow.
And was surprised to find herself flat on her back, a sword pointed at her chin, barely grazing her throat. Hazel eyes sparkled into brown ones.
“I win.” Serbindi grinned, and sheathed her sword in one fluid motion.
Mabenti gaped at her friend’s retreating back. “What the hell just happened? You beat me!”
Serbindi smirked. “Looks like you just answered your own question there, Mab.” She glanced over and met grey eyes. He was unsuccessfully smothering a smile, and she tossed him a cheeky one of her own before turning back to her would-be antagonist.
“What on earth did you DO?” Mabenti pressed on. “I’ve never been defeated by that move. Never.”
“Well, there’s always a first time for everything,” she quipped, pretending to ignore the muffled snicker at her back.
“Don’t you be cute. This is serious,” Mabenti snapped, clearly agitated.
Serbindi sighed. “Look, I’ll show you.” And proceeded to repeat, in slow motion, the exact series of moves she had performed that had disabled Mabenti only moments before. “See, it’s the overhand strike...”
He watched, fascinated by the strength of her movements, at the same time carring them off with an ease and grace peculiar to herself. She was animated in her explaination, and he cocked his head, studying her with interest. Her motions were quick, but not jerky; fluid, with a deceptive lightness to them that masked the power behind her blows.
“...and then you just sweep under, like this.” Thump. Mabenti was on her back again, this time seeming more forgiving of her attacker. She jumped to her feet, quite unperturbed, and nodded. “It’s really easy, once you know it,” Serbindi continued.
“Ok...” Mabenti was still nodding. “I get it. Thanks,” she replied, flashing an easy grin, with no hard feelings behind it.
“You bet,” Serbindi responded equally amiably, and turned to him. “Enjoy the show?” she asked.
And was greeted with a smile that spread warmth up her spine, crossing over her shoulders. “Yes. Very much,” he returned simply, and walked back to the shelter. She stood for a few seconds, staring blankly at him, then sat down on the still-warm rock, occupied only moments before. She was feeling a bit light-headed... Probably from all that sparring, she reasoned with herself. After all, you haven’t had the chance to do that in awhile, and you’re still injured... Yeah. That explains it. She was also a bit weak and shakey, and her stomach felt as though it had been ejected from a catapult. Better get something to eat, she thought.
“Mab?” she said, “I’m going to...um, get some food. You want something?” she asked, half-aware of what she was saying.
“Uh, sure,” replied Mabenti, puzzled. She watched her friend slowly walk away, appearing rather distracted. Hmm. Ok, this is weird. I wonder if...nah, she rejected the notion outright, without even completing her thought. Ser’s too smart to do anything like that. Silly to even consider it. She bit back a short laugh, and snorted. Picking up the hastily-thrown sword, she winced slightly at the pressure in her shoulder, and walked back to the shelter, taking care to conceal her discomfort.
He was already lying flat on his back on the cot when she came through the door, bearing a bunch of grapes in one hand, and a toting a fair-sized, field-dressed game hen in the other. “Hey,” she greeted him, and received a small, crooked smile, and nod in return, after which he closed his eyes, appearing asleep. She then turned her attention to the game hen, lighting the stove and setting the bird inside. After attending to their future dinner, she walked over to where he was lying on the cot, and stared down, hair falling over her face. He opened his eyes and gazed up at her in question. “Yes?”
She smirked. “Nothing.”
His eyes gleamed. "Nothing, tra la la?" he replied, a teasing lilt to his voice.
Her brows furrowed. "Huh?"
"Never mind," he assured her, and rose onto his elbows, his back audibly cracking from the effort. She heard the sound, and quirked an eyebrow. He chuckled. “I’m not as young as I used to be,” he explained vaguely.
“Ah,” she replied, wondering what his true age was.
There was a moment’s silence, then he asked, “Where has Mabenti gone to?”
She paused, and grinned. “Probably off collecting firewood.” He looked at her questioningly. “The sparring? I bet her two weeks’ gathering firewood if I beat her. Which I did,” she finished somewhat smugly, unable to keep the satisfaction from her voice.
“I see,” he noted wryly, and they lapsed into silence once more. It was a comfortable silence, unusual for her. She sat down near the edge of the bed, leaving herself so little room he doubted she could keep her balance successfully. But she did, and brushed a small, pointed dry leaf from her hair, combing through the deep auburn strands with her fingers, and exhaled noisily, then rose to pace around the room. He watched her with interest out of the corner of his eye as she released nervous energy into the air in general, walking a hole in the floorboards, until she once more perched on the edge of the bed.
She sighed again and said, “I’m sorry that that you don’t have any male confidents to relate to; I understand that men generally wish for the society of other men.”
He gave her a puzzled look and asked, “What gave you that idea?”
“Just from general talk from my sisters. It’s well-known that men have little respect for the opinions and wishes of women, and consider their lives of lesser meaning then their own,” she replied in a slightly acidic voice.
He merely gave that gentle smile of his, and clasped her hand in his own. “I don’t feel lacking for any company...and I’ve never understood that viewpoint.”
She felt her breathing catch, but inclined her head, cocked an eyebrow, and simply stated, “Indeed.”
“Yes,” he said. “Why anyone would consider women to be of lesser value is beyond me. I find your society extremely enjoyable, and Mabenti’s as well, so I do not feel in any way deprived for lacking the company of my own sex.” He turned to catch her in the eye, and reached out to capture her jawline with a single finger, tilting her face upwards. “Women are more sociable, tactful, and if I may say, pleasant to view, than men.”
There was a low buzzing in her head, as the blood pounded in her ears, and she barely managed to maintain her slightly aloof posture. “Aha,” she stated blandly. Pleasant to view? He can’t even say “pretty” in a straightforward manner. Not that I’m complaining, she amended hastily. Somehow his speech pattern is quite...invigorating. A smile twisted her lips. Yeah, that’s one way to put it. Invigorating, stimulating...
Sexy. The conscious use of the word, even in her mind, startled her, and she shook her head, wrenching her hands from his all-too-pleasant grasp.
“I better go...” She grasped for an excuse, any excuse, in her momentary panic. “...cook something,” she finished lamely, earning a faint smile from him.
“You do nothing but cook,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, but...we need...food,” she replied haltingly, desperate to remove herself from his disturbingly easy presence.
“Not that badly,” he countered, and she could see he was one not easily dissuaded. In spite of herself, she admired that trait.
He was close, very close...her natural instincts screamed at this invasion of her personal space, and she turned her head away, mentally willing him to back off, stay away, before her body reacted over her mind.
A single finger tracing her neck was all it took, and without thinking, she reacted to the touch. Everything went distant, and there was nothing but a sudden surge of adrenaline, and a warm, smooth surface connecting with her fist. Then sound and color rushed back to her senses, and she was gazing at her blood-stained hand. She glanced up at his face.
“Oh my gods.” He was clearly in pain, blood flowing from beneath where his hand covered his nose. She cringed, then reached towards the injury. He quickly flinched away.
“Um, it’s all right, I can take care of myself.” Jumping to her feet, she soon located the white strips of cloth employed as bandages, and meekly offered them. He palmed them, and addressed to his injury. There was a prolonged silence, broken by her. “I am so sorry.”
He waved her off. “Don’t concern yourself, I will be fine,” he assured her, albeit in a slightly more nasal, muffled voice than usual.
“The hell you will! I broke your nose!" she shouted, in panic rather than anger. “You were trying to...you were just being...and I...” she made a weak punching movement. “...right in the... Oh my gods. I am SO sorry. This is completely my fault.” She sat on the floor, oblivious to the dust from the floorboards, burying her head in her hands.
He knelt down next to her, patting her shoulder with his free hand. “It’s nothing to be concerned over. I will recover, you know,” he added with a smile.
She stared up at him, incredulous. “What the hell? I’M the one who just gave YOU a possibly permanent injury, and you’re comforting ME?” she exclaimed. “What are you, freaking Aesclepius?” He looked momentarily confused at that, but she continued, not noticing his expression. “Don’t you find it somewhat ironic? I mean, you’re the one standing there holding a blood-soaked bandage to your face, and yet you’re going, ‘There, there’ at ME?” She threw up her hands, shaking her head.
He paused, and regarded her. “Actually, I was more surprised at your reflexes. I’ve never been...” he trailed off, while she looked at him, a curious expression on her face. He seemed to be focused inward for a few seconds, then his eyes met hers and he appeared more alert. “Anyway, I understand the reason behind your actions.”
“Which is?” she pressed.
“Fear,” he replied promptly, though still in the same gentle voice.
There was a long silence, as she gave him a hard, searching stare, as if to uncover the truth within his eyes. Finding nothing, she finally gave up. “Ah hell.” She jumped up from the floor, and made quick strides towards the door. “I’m going out.” And shut the door behind her, without so much as a backwards glance.
Once outside, she walked in a rapid clip, not really thinking of her destination. The only concept going through her mind was an urgent instinct to be away--away from the cabin, from the memories, from him. An uncomfortable weight settled on her chest, and refused to leave. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath, and exhaled. I need to think...need to think...ok, this is not good, she thought grimly. I can’t change any of this--any of it, and I might as well get used to everything. ‘Everything’ was kept in the abstract.
She slowed her pace, her head clearing, then stopped altogether. What is ‘everything’, Ser? she asked herself. Certainly the loss of the tribe alone would be stress enough...not to mention your own injury, Mabenti’s wound, and... At this point her mind shut down. It was too much, too quickly. Taking a deep breath, she willed her mind blank. She sat, then stood abruptly, and sat again. What’s the use? she finally mused. It’s not like I can avoid him, and it would be pointless to do so. Besides, the thought occured to her in a flash, he’s done nothing wrong, and I sure can’t punish Mab for whatever I’m presuming about anybody. I might as well just return like nothing happened.
Except something did happen. Before, and after he.... She couldn’t allow herself the thought. Touched me. There, that wasn’t that hard, Ser. At least laugh at your social ineptitude, she thought with a trace of grim humor. So you broke his nose. Chalk it up to a new height in social ignorance. You already apologized, and he accepted. She could at least see the truth of that. Let sleeping hydras lie. Feeling slightly better about the situation, she rose and walked back to the shelter.
She found him and Mabenti both in the shelter; him sitting in a chair holding a wad of bloody cloth in his fist, and her sitting on the bed with her head propped onto a pillow, legs stretched in front of her, giving Serbindi a blatantly quizzical expression when the latter walked into the room. “I heard what you did. Nice.”
Serbindi suddenly felt very, very tired. “Don’t start with me, Mab. We discussed what I did, and it’s over.”
Mabenti threw her hands up in a protective gesture. “Hey, I’m not saying anything. I probably would’a done the same thing.” She glanced at him. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he dryly assured.
“Good.” Serbindi hesitated. “So, it’s all fine now?”
Mabenti eyed her. “Uhhh...I never had any issues with not being hit by you. And you?”
He answered the question obviously addressed to him with a shrug. “I already informed her that I did not take it personally.”
The petite woman nodded. “Good. It’s all resolved. Group hug. Where’s dinner?”
The abrupt change in topic made Serbindi snort. “Probably scampering out in the wilderness somewhere. Wanna help me find it?”
“Sure.” She scrambled off the bed, snatching her sword from off the floor.
Serbindi watched her. “Y’know, you gotta learn to take better care of your weapons, or else they...”
“...Or else they won’t take care of you. Thank you, Ms. Weapons Master,” Mabenti replied. “I’ll polish it when we get back.”
“Think you’d have learned that by now, being the freaking lieutenant and all,” muttered Serbindi.
“Sorry to not be as perfect as you,” Mabenti shot back.
“We can’t all be, but we can try our best,” was the parting response as Serbindi sailed out the door.
The next hour or so was spent outside futily luring various small furry animals into their clutches, until they realized they’d have to resort to fish for a second night. Traipsing back triumphantly with their bounty, it was decided upon to take advantage of the seasonable warmth and dine out-of-doors. Mabenti quickly set upon building a fire on which Serbindi subsequently cooked their fresh meal of perch, and reminded the smaller woman several times about her promise to tend to her weapon.
“All right, I’ll polish the damn thing, quit picking at me,” she replied.
“Thank you,” Serbindi said from over her shoulder, and passed the plates.
The trio sat in comfortable silence for a while after the meal, the taller woman poking occasionally at the fire while Mabenti sharpened her sword. He sat gazing into space, evidently thinking about something, but neither woman wanting to question him.
“Anyone up for a sing-along?” Serbindi suddenly inquired.
“Uhhh...you sure you want to do that?” Mabenti asked, a peculiar look crossing her face, akin to suspicion and dread.
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with that suggestion?” he replied mildly. “I’m sure she has perfectly fine voice. I don’t object to the idea.”
Serbindi beamed at him, then shot Mabenti a withering glare. “Thank you. It’s good to know that some people have confidence in my abilities.” She took a deep breath, and began to sing.
And her audience immediately wished the reverse. Mabenti winced at the off-key, atonal melody. Serbindi’s voice was both breathy and harsh, with a decidedly shrill quality. In addition, it was quite obvious that the singer was completely tone deaf. Mabenti cringed when she hit a particularly high note, and could barely recognized the old familiar tune as Serbindi relentlessly hacked her way through the song. She glanced at their companion, and noted his expression with amusement. He sat, slack-jawed and disbelieving, at the spectacle before them.
Much to their relief, Serbindi finished the last note with a piercing, shaky vibrato, and smiled expectantly, waiting for their approving reaction. “Well?”
Two pairs of eyes darted to the floor. “It was...err...thoroughly memorized,” he offered helplessly, studying the ground carefully.
“Oh.” Her face fell. “Mab?”
“It stank. On ice.” Mabenti crisply replied, giving her square eye contact. “Ser, I’ve told you gods know how many times, you can’t carry a tune, and you never believe me.”
“You’ve told her that?” he asked in wonder.
“Oh yeah. She thinks she has a golden throat or something, like Marisu,” Mabenti informed him. “She would insist on performing for the tribe during ceremonies, and no matter how much we all bitched and moaned, she’s remained convinced that she’s a terrific singer. She won’t admit failure in anything, is her problem,” she finished with a reserved shrug.
“That could be considered an admirable quality,” he replied diplomatically. Serbindi snapped her gaze to his face, eyes widening slightly.
“Not when it comes to her singing,” Mabenti retorted decidedly. “In fighting, I’d trust her with my life, but if it came to out-singing the enemy, I’d rather have a pet canary.”
“I see.” A long pause. “Who was Marisu?”
“The tribe prodigy. She did pretty much everything around the village...singing, cooking, healing, fighting--she invented a few new sword moves--and was even reputed to be able to tame wild animals, though I never saw her do it. Couldn’t mistake her in the village--had violet eyes and nearly white-blonde hair. She died rescuing the village from a few dozen raiders one day, after sponsoring the addition of an orphan into the tribe and curing the Queen’s chronic halitosis. Everyone said they loved her, but she wasn’t missed much when she was killed, I’ll tell you that.” Mabenti sighed. “Although she could make a mean baklava.”
He looked completely baffled by this information. “One person could do all that?”
“Yeah, almost like a folk story, ain’t it?”
A shaking head was her only response, while Serbindi looked on in chagrin. “Really, was I that bad?” She persued the subject, looking to him for a response.
He made a non-committal sound, obviously straining for some sort of compliment, then lapsed into silence.
“I see.”
He turned to Mabenti. “For being a fearless and skilled amazon weapons master, she’s quite sensitive about her talents,” he observed with a straight face.
“Isn’t she though?” Mabenti mused.
“By the way,” he mentioned, “I was wondering why exactly you brought back fish after catching fowl earlier. Not that I object, it is simply a bit puzzling.”
Serbindi stared at him for a few seconds, then slapped her forehead. “Oh shit! The hen! I completely forgot I bagged it!” Then, timidly, “I don’t suppose anyone has room left for--”
“No,” asserted Mabenti. “No offense, Ser, but if I eat any more, you’ll be looking at it again.”
“Colorful,” the taller woman muttered. “Well, I don’t want to waste it...you know how hard it is to find hen this time of the year.”
“Here’s what you do,” Mabenti advised her. “Find some reeds, wrap them around the hen very tightly so nothing can leak through, and place it in cold water, like that creek. It should keep for at least a day.”
Serbindi looked at her in consternation. “What, you thought I got to be lieutenant by waiting until my elders all died?” Mabenti joked. “I know what I’m doing.”