Tales of Erogenia: Book 3 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2:  Thorns

By the end of the day, Varden's feet felt as if he was walking on coals. His body stank of sweat and more than anything else he wanted a good swim. But they had not seen the faintest trace of water other than a few muddy holes filled with animal tracks and too badly fouled to be safe to drink.

They survived on a small waterskin that Zenaria had made out of the stomach of the animal she had killed. By the end of the day it was almost empty and Zenaria tucked it into her belt. Most annoyingly Zenaria seemed in much better shape than Varden was and he glowered at her as they finally stopped to rest.

"Cheer up Sir Knight; we'll find water when we get closer to the mountain. See how it shines."

"What has shining to do with water?" Varden asked.

"Snow, you Kivalian moose. The top of the mountain is covered with snow."

"How can a mountain have snow in all this heat?" Varden growled. "It would melt."

Even you must know that the gods decreed that the air cools as the land rises."

"We were not taught such things in the order," Varden sneered. "Only priests and scholars dabble in such knowledge."

Zenaria looked at him incredulously. "That knowledge might just save your life, Sir Knight. Where there is snow, there is water."

Zenaria did not comment further. Sometimes Varden's ignorance astounded her. Had they not been thrust together by chance and if he had not saved her life twice she doubted she would have had anything to do with him. She did admit that the knight was brave, kind, and noble to a fault, but his ignorance and self-righteousness sometimes grated on her and this was one of those sometimes.

She reminded herself that he was also very good in a fight, and just as good in a bed, even if most of the times they had made love they had never been anywhere near a bed. "Time to camp," she said. "Over there." She pointed to a thick grove of the ubiquitous thorn bush. It looked to be near impenetrable, and therefore, perfect for their purposes.

"I'll see what I can find for supper," Zenaria said, stringing her bow. "You set up camp."

"Certainly, princess," Varden replied. He took out his knife, and carefully approaching the thorns began to hack out a campsite.

Zenaria smiled and looked about for suitable prey. Since she and Varden were not planning on staying long she had decided against killing one of the larger animals, although she was sure that it would not go to waste. But it went against her upbringing. Warriors of the Snow Leopard never killed anything they did not intend to eat except in self defence. She looked for one of the spike-horned deer she had killed the previous day and soon found one.

However, this deer turned out to be not quite as cooperative as the one she had brought down on the previous day. It caught sight of her and bounded away with thirty foot leaps. Undaunted Zenaria followed, moving in a circular path to approach from downwind. The deer proved to be particularly cautious, moving steadily away and frustrating her plans to get close enough for a clear shot. But Zenaria was not about to give up that easily. She needed the meat the deer would provide for Varden and herself and she was not about to switch to easier prey like one of the cow-like animals that made little effort to escape.

She circled still wider eventually getting into a position from which she could approach the skittish deer from behind a screen of thorns bushes. Slowly she edged closer until the deer was barely fifty yards away. Just as she was about to draw her bow, however, a large chicken-like bird darted out from in front of her. It was the deer's salvation and the chicken's doom. As the deer bounded away once more Zenaria switched her aim to the chicken and caught it dead centre. A heartbeat later a second bird flew up and Zenaria drew and fired almost reflexively.

She knelt by the two birds and completed her ritual of thanking the gods and spirits and then got suddenly to her feet, alerted by the sound of something heavy crashing through the bush. She was just in time to see something vaguely familiar charging toward her. It was a giant animal that at first glance seemed covered with armour. Its nose sported two horns, one behind the other; the one in front almost the length of her forearm and the second horn about half that.

She knew the animal; sort of. She had been attacked in her homeland by the great woolly rhinoceros and readily recognized its smaller kin, if a beast that probably weighed forty times what she did could be considered small. It pushed its way through the thorn bushes as if they did not exist and charged toward her.

Zenaria was trapped against the thorns, but given the choice between being trampled and some painful scratches, she chose the latter. Leaping to one side she crashed into the thorns, ignoring the pain as the rhino roared past just a hand's breadth away from her.

The huge animal turned with amazing speed, swinging back toward her while Zenaria fought to free herself from the thorns that now entangled her clothing. As she did so, she caught sight of the reason for the rhino's attack as an infant version of the monster trundled into view. Quite by chance, the baby rhino headed straight toward her attracting the huge parent once more. She had no choice. Ignoring the agonizing pain she pushed deeper into the thorns and through to the other side, leaving considerable amounts of her flesh and clothing on the sharp barbs.

But she was still not safe. The mother rhino followed, brushing aside the needle sharp thorns and heading straight for her. Desperately Zenaria tried to use her agility to dart aside, but the thorns caught her, leaving her directly in the path of the rhino. At the last heartbeat she tore free, but not enough to prevent the horn from hooking her low. It caught the fleshy part of her thigh; and then she was flying through the air tumbling like a rag doll. The landing was as painful as the flight, a thorn bush breaking her fall and leaving her hopelessly caught, her body pierced in more than a score of places.

She was too much of a warrior to faint, but the pain was excruciating. Bleeding from a hundred wounds, with dozens of thorns piercing her flesh, she lay on top of the bush, her weight slowly pushing her deeper into the flesh-shredding thorns. For a few heartbeats Zenaria hardly dared move; then as she realized what was happening she tried to struggle free. A savage wave of pain surged through her. For an instant her vision blurred and blackness swept across her eyes; but she fought back from unconsciousness, knowing that in this savage land passing out would certainly mean her death.

She moved as slowly and carefully as she could, but even the tiniest movement brought pain so exquisite that it pushed her to the edge of consciousness. But she couldn't pass out. She could hear movement near her and overhead the huge long-necked birds were circling. She was now prey and if she didn't escape the scavengers would tear her bleeding body apart.

With a tremendous effort of will Zenaria tore herself free, dropping to the ground free of the thorns. She found herself face to face with a score of the dog-like scavengers she had seen earlier. Up close they were formidable creatures with huge heads, thick necks and powerful forequarters. Massive jaws dripped with saliva and they made cries that were disturbingly human as they slowly edged toward her.

Zenaria had long since dropped her bow, and she drew her sword and knife, swaying slightly as she tried to fight off the impact of her ordeal. She was close to collapse; something that would result in her being almost instantly torn to pieces. She had no doubt the huge jaws of the beasts she faced would make very short work of her.

It was her good fortune that they did not come at her all at once. Instead the boldest came at her first, striking low as if to hamstring her. Instead it met the point of her sword, its own impetus skewering it. Zenaria immediately wrenched her point free. She had hardly exerted herself in the attack, but she felt weak. She was bleeding profusely from the gash the rhino horn had made in her thigh and the hundred or so wounds inflicted on her by the thorn bushes constantly wept blood. By rights she should have attempted to staunch the flow of blood, but faced by the pack of predatory dogs she had no choice but to defend herself.

A second dog came at her and a third. Zenaria cut them both down, gaining a respite as the other dogs cannibalized their dead fellows. But she had no time to tend to any of her wounds. Close to collapse she leaned on her sword and waited for the next attack.

Warned by the fate of their fellows, however, the dogs chose not to attack her head on. Instead they tried to find a way to circle behind her. But Zenaria had her back to the thorn bushes that had so badly savaged her. Now they kept her from being attacked from all sides. That did not stop the dogs from trying, however, several of them attempting to get beneath the bushes and come at her from the side.

It boiled down to a stalemate. The dogs circled for an opening and Zenaria waiting for them to attack. However, unless her wounds were tended Zenaria knew that that standoff could have only one outcome; one that the dogs seemed to understand. Eventually she would be too weak to defend herself. Already her legs were shaking from the effort to stay on her feet. She had lost too much blood; it was only a matter of time, and not very much time at that.

And then suddenly dogs were flying in all directions as a whirlwind of slashing steel hurtled into them. Zenaria took a step forward and fell to her knees as her legs gave way, but Varden didn't need her help. Intent on their prey the knight had come upon the dogs and cut down several of them before they even realized he was there. The others made a brief attempt to resist and then fled before the knight's slashing blade, leaving ten of their number dead in front of Zenaria.

Varden moved to her as Zenaria struggled to rise, ashamed of her weakness. "Stay down, princess." Varden's words were a command, not a request, and unaccustomed as Zenaria was to taking orders, she readily complied. Rarely had she felt such weakness and it was clear even to her that she had been badly injured.

"We have to stop the bleeding," Varden continued. "And that leg wound comes first." As he spoke he removed Zenaria's belt knowing that was where she kept her medicine kit. He opened the pouch and took out a needle and a length of catgut.

Zenaria lay still and let him work. She was really too weak to do much else, but she knew she was in good hands. In spite of Varden's martial inclinations the Knights of the Silver Order were trained to heal as well as kill and Varden was blessed with a power that went far beyond the abilities of the ordinary healer.

She didn't even wince as the knight used their scarce water to wash out the gaping wound the rhino's horn had made in her thigh. Warriors of the Snow leopard carried stoicism to an extreme and she lay completely still as the edges of her wound were pinched together and the needle bit into her flesh.

Varden's skill with the needle matched his skill with the sword, but Zenaria's senses dimmed. She felt herself slipping into sleep and fought to stay awake. Varden noticed as well. "Stay awake, princess. You can sleep after I've healed you - not before."

Zenaria forced her eyes open. It helped that everything Varden was doing was incredibly painful, but she said nothing as he moved to treating her other wounds. These were numerous and quite a few required stitching, but nothing to match the mumber of stitches on the wound in her thigh. Many of the sharp thorns, some of them up to four inches long, had broken off and had to be pulled out before Varden could begin his healing.

Calmly and methodically Varden went about treating Zenaria, removing her clothing as he did so. There wasn't much to remove as most of it had been torn to shreds, but he carefully hung it up on one of the thorn bushes until he had stripped Zenaria down to her skin. Only when he was certain he had removed every thorn did the knight lay his hands on her and close his eyes.

Varden had healed her before, but it was a sensation Zenaria never got used to. She felt her body warm beneath his hands as the knight invoked his saints and called forth his power. The heat increased until sweat poured from every pore in her skin and sweat streamed down her bloodied body; and still the heat mounted until she felt as if she was engulfed in flames and then it was gone, leaving her weak as a kitten. Gently Varden placed his hand upon her forehead. "Now sleep, princess."

Zenaria's eyes were already closed, and she needed no urging. Sleep came so quickly that she didn't even have time to reply before the world faded.

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She awoke weak, but refreshed and ravenously hungry. The sun was in its midmorning position and she guessed that she had probably slept. A delicious smell came to her nostrils and she sat up salivating. A few feet away Varden was tending a fire. He looked up and smiled as he saw that she was awake. "How fares my princess?"

"Well," Zenaria answered. "But very hungry."

Actually she was better than well. Varden's gift had the unfortunate effect of healing everything, leaving her body as unblemished as a newborn. It even restored her virginity a side-effect she found somewhat irritating. However, even more galling was the fact that it also eliminated all trace of her battle scars. How would anyone in the Clan of the Snow Leopard know of her accomplishments if she bore not a single trace of her adventures?

"What are you cooking?" she asked, noting that what Varden was tending over the fire looked vaguely familiar.

"I found these birds just a few yards from here and got to them before the scavengers did. They had your arrows in them, so I thought it only right to claim them."

As if guessing her next question Varden spoke again. "There was and is a plentiful supply of dog. It is a bit stringy, but quite edible. I thought it best to save these for when thou awoke from thy sleep."

Zenaria had eaten dog before and found it quite good when boiled, but she decided to spare Varden that information in favour of accepting the roast foul. It was very good and not surprisingly tasted quite a bit like chicken. She ate all that she was given and still wanted more, but had to be content with just one. She knew it was part of the healing process. Varden's healing drew partly on the spiritual and partly on the resources of her own body. It left her with an appetite that a single chicken could not satisfy. "Perhaps," she said, "I might try some of that dog. After all they tried to eat me."

"Drink first," he said handing her the water skin. She noticed that it was full and looked at Varden inquiringly.

"I followed the animals," he said. "Surprisingly I found a spring that was not fouled. We can fill up there before continuing."

Zenaria reached for her tattered clothes. "I will have to hunt first. These will no longer do."

"Tomorrow," Varden replied. "Today thou rest. Tomorrow thy may assume thy accustomed role."

Zenaria lay back. Tomorrow would do. After all they still had no idea where they were or where they were going.

Continued in Chapter 3

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