Tara Ch 05

Morning had come, and breakfast was already over. Tara still lay against the log with Epona in her arms. The slave had slept little, and neither, in consequence, had Tara. The warrior peered down at the curly head that lay pillowed on her breast. Epona's cheeks were flushed, and her face was twisted in pain. Tara brushed a hand over the slave's forehead; it felt warm. "You in pain, kid?"

The green eyes opened and looked up. They were dull and glazed. "Yes, ma'am," Epona whispered.

Tara tested the temperature of the slave's cheeks; they, too, were hot to the touch. "Where does it hurt?" she asked quietly.

"My arm, mostly." Epona blinked back tears. It was obvious that she was trying desperately to be brave.

The warrior sighed. "Okay. Probably time to look you over again. Hold still." She carefully laid her burden down on the ground. Epona stifled a groan. Gently, Tara peeled back the cloak she had wrapped the girl in and examined her back.

It was worse. At least eight of the open cuts now showed signs of infection, and three were weeping and full of pus. Tara winced inwardly.

No wonder the kid's running a fever.

"I'll have to wash this again," she said calmly. "It's going to hurt." Epona shut her eyes tightly as her owner made a few quick preparations. Then Tara flushed the wounds thoroughly with water. The slave whimpered as the warrior dusted the cuts liberally with healing herbs. "Done," Tara said, brushing a soothing hand over Epona's cheek. "Let's see the arm."

The wrist had swollen a great deal during the night, and the bandage was now far too tight. "Huh. No wonder this hurts," Tara muttered. "Hold still. I'll fix you up." Epona gave a huge sigh of relief as the bandage came off. Tara repositioned the splints and carefully wrapped up the broken arm again. Then she doused the bandage with cool water, and Epona moaned softly. "There. That's better, isn't it?" Tara set down the water skin. "C'mere." She pulled the slave back up into her arms. The smaller girl huddled against her in silence.

It felt good to hold Epona's slim body. Tara couldn't help but remember what Drea had said earlier.

Wonder if it's true. Do I have a "soft spot" for her?

The redhead's brow creased.

Wouldn't have held Clytie or Meriel like this. I'd have just let them suffer...that's the point of punishment, isn't it?

She looked down at the girl in her arms. Epona's eyes were closed, but Tara could still see the tracks of tears on her pale cheeks. She didn't like even the idea of leaving the girl to endure this alone.

Damn it. What's wrong with me? I'd better make sure she doesn't think I'm some kind of damn marshmallow.

Tara cleared her throat. "Does it still hurt?" Epona gave a tremulous nod. "Good," the warrior said sternly. "You'll think twice before you challenge me again, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," the smaller girl whispered. Tara could feel the tension thrumming through Epona's boyish form.

Some of the severity faced from Tara's face at this. She brushed her knuckles across the slave's cheek. "Just do as you're told. Obey, and you won't earn more beatings." Epona said nothing.

Boots crunched against the stony ground, and Tara looked up to find Drea standing over them. "Hey," the dark-skinned woman said. "We're about to parcel out the gold and stuff. Come get your cut, Terror."

Calmly, Tara laid her slave down on the ground and covered her carefully with the cloak. Not until this little operation was complete did she stand up and meet Drea's gaze. "There're only ten of us now, Drea," she said. The smaller warrior raised a brow, and Tara's lips pursed coolly. "I want an eighth."

There was a pause. Drea didn't seem surprised, but she regarded Tara with a calculating expression. "I could point out that you were hired for a tenth, fair and square," she remarked, "but I won't." There was another pause. "Tell you what; I'll give you a ninth, plus first choice of the loot."

"Eighth," Tara said firmly, folding her powerful arms across her chest. Then, as Drea frowned, "You're the one who wants me here. I don't care if I stay or not. You stiff me, and I'm gone."

Drea sighed wearily and gave her a disgusted look. "Fine, fine. An eighth it is. Go make your choices, then, so we can dole the rest of it out." The redhead nodded with a triumphant smirk.

They'd captured quite a decent pile of armor and weapons, and the four horses that had been drawing the cartful of gold. Tara didn't even glance at the horses; she knew none of them could match her own mount. She was conscious of the eyes watching her as she began to sift through the pile of weapons.

That's right, boys. First choice is mine. Eat your hearts out.

Tara's lips curved upward slightly.

First things first -- Tara wanted a javelin. She chose one that was sturdy and well-maintained. It had been a long time since she'd carried one; its weight felt good in her hand. Tara set it down and examined the swords. They were standard-issue military blades. None of them were any better than hers, so she shrugged and laid them aside.

Then one of the captured shields caught her attention. It was better than the others -- well-made, heavy with brass, and engraved with intricate scenes of the Argonian gods at war. Tara could pick out Ares with his mighty sword, and Athena wielding a javelin, and Artemis drawing her bow. There was Zeus, brandishing a lightning bolt; she could even see Hades itself pictured at the bottom of the shield, complete with Charon and Cerberus, and the mighty twin rivers, Lethe and Styx. Tara didn't hesitate. "I'll take these," she said, slinging the shield onto her back and hefting her javelin. Her eyes met Drea's. "If anyone wants me, you know where to find me." The dark-skinned warrior nodded, and Tara headed back to where she had left Epona.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The camp had been packed up, and the mercenaries were mounting their horses. It had only taken about an hour after doling out the loot to finish the job. Tara fastened the buckle on one last saddlebag and gave her horse an affectionate slap on the rump. He looked at her with a slight roll of his liquid eyes; Tara grinned and scratched his neck. "Ready to go, boy?" she said. "Bet you're glad to see some action after sitting around for a few days, huh?" She straightened his mane. "I'll get the runt, and we'll head out." She turned away.

Epona was lying face-down on a patch of soft grass with her cloak spread over her like a blanket. Tara went down on one knee and pressed her palm against her brow; the slave's skin felt hot. Tara frowned. "Hey," she said quietly. "Ready to go,

beag luch?"

Moss-green eyes opened a crack. They glistened with a hectic brilliance in the flushed little face. "Yes'm," Epona whispered.

Tara slid her arms carefully beneath the girl's body. Epona whimpered; Tara felt small fingers clutch at her sleeve. "Easy," the warrior murmured, adopting the soothing tone she would have used with a nervous horse. "Easy, now." She settled Epona's weight across her chest and shoulder, holding her with her left arm. Tara then put her foot in the stirrup and, with an athletic vault, swung into the saddle. She took a moment to settle Epona across her lap. The curly head was dead weight against her chest.

Drea rode up alongside her. "Hey. How's Pony doing?" she asked. Her tone was nonchalant, but Tara detected concern in the woman's dark eyes.

"She's got a fever," the redhead said shortly, "but she'll be fine." She glanced past Drea to the campsite; everything seemed to be ready. "Looks like time to head out."

"Yep." The dark-skinned woman looked around. Then, with a wave of her arm, she dug her heels into her horse's sides. The group of raiders began to ride.

The two women rode together in silence for a while. Finally, Drea cleared her throat. "Remember what I said to you about group morale?" Tara looked at her coolly. The smaller woman's eyes remained on the road ahead. "I think it'd be a good idea for you to come and drink with the boys a few times. You don't have to do it every night, or anything. Just enough so they can start seeing that you're human."

Tara smirked. "Oh? What do they think I am now?"

Drea didn't smile. "They think you're a real bitch of a killing machine," she said frankly. Tara's grin widened, and Drea rubbed her eyes. "Yeah, I know -- you're going to say that's true, right?" The redhead chuckled at this. "Look, no one's going to argue that you're not an incredible warrior, least of all me," Drea said. "You've earned their obedience and respect. That's good. Now I want you to earn their allegiance."

"Why?" Tara's gaze was calm. "You've already got that. You're their leader, not me."

The dark-skinned woman shook her head. "I brought you in, Terror. I told the boys that you're a fighter, and they've seen it. But if you make them hate you, they won't follow you, and that makes it kind of hot for me, all right? It's my ass on the line." Tara just looked at her, and Drea sighed. "Tara, please. At least try. Do it for me."

The redhead scowled and looked away. She really didn't care whether the others liked her or not, and she had no intention of making this group a permanent part of her life.

But, well...Epona does seem to be getting along with people here, and I am kind of enjoying riding with Drea again. Guess I could have a few mugs of ale with the men if it'll get Drea off my case.

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll give it a shot."

Drea grinned and reached over to give Tara's leg a slap. "Good. Thanks." Then, with a click of her tongue, the dark-skinned woman spurred her horse on ahead. Tara watched her go with doubtful eyes.

The girl in her arms stirred and groaned, drawing her attention. Tara looked down to study Epona's face. The slave's eyes were closed, and she looked thoroughly miserable. There was a fine sheen of moisture on her skin. Tara took a corner of her own cloak and gently wiped the slave's brow. Epona peered groggily up at her. "All right, Epona?" the warrior asked quietly.

The green eyes closed again. "Hurts," Epona whispered. Her voice was very faint. "Sick."

Tara tested the temperature of the flushed little face again, and felt a pang of worry. "Hang on," she said brusquely, reaching down to fumble in a saddlebag. Tara had taken care to pack her healer's kit within easy reach; now she began to measure herbs into a cup. After a few minutes' work, she filled the cup with water and swirled it around a little. "Swallow this," she said, holding it to Epona's lips. "Tastes like crap, but it'll help you sleep." Epona gulped feebly. She shuddered at the bitterness of the medicine, but uttered no complaint. Tara put the cup away and turned her attention back to the road. In a minute or two, she glanced down at her burden; Epona was sound asleep.

The day wore on. The slave slept for most of it. When they stopped for their midday meal, Tara only managed to coax a little water into the girl. By the time evening came, Epona was beginning to murmur deliriously. The warrior laid her hand on Epona's cheek; it was burning hot to the touch. Tara's brow creased. She heard Drea give the order to stop and make camp. For a few moments, Tara sat still, considering her options. Then she spurred her mount over to Drea's side.

The dark-skinned woman turned to her. Drea's eyes narrowed and dropped to Epona as soon as she saw the look on Tara's face. "She's worse," Tara confirmed quietly. "I'm going on ahead. If I ride hard, I can make the inn at Argos before noon. She needs a real bed."

Drea rubbed her chin. "Well, all right. We can meet up at the inn the day after tomorrow, I guess. Whenever we make it." She met Tara's gaze. "Is she going to be all right?"

"She'll be fine." Tara turned away. "I'll see you later." She kicked her heels, and her warhorse snorted and broke into a trot.

The sunlight faded and died, leaving only the silver light of the stars and the quarter moon. The air grew chilled. Tara took off her own cloak and carefully wrapped it around the slave girl's limp body. Epona's head turned, and Tara saw her eyes glinting in the darkness. "Ma?" Epona whispered. "Ma, I'm cold."

Boy, she's really out of it.

"You'll be okay," Tara said calmly. "I'll get you a warm bed soon." The body in her arms stilled again, and Epona's eyes closed. Tara tucked the cloak up to the girl's chin. Then, on impulse, she bent to kiss the damp forehead. "Hang in there, little mouse," she murmured.

Here in the silence, it was impossible not to think about things. Tara found herself remembering how Epona had cried while she was being whipped -- picturing the naked terror in the girl's face as she had begged Tara not to kill her. At the time, as angry as Tara was, she had taken almost a vicious pleasure in these things. Now, though, the warrior found herself feeling a little uneasy.

Fact is, I just lost my damn temper,

Tara thought.

Epona deserved to be punished, but what I did was too much. I just lost it and beat on her, like some damn bloody two-year-old having a tantrum.

It was the battle fever, Tara growled to herself, frowning deeply.

She crossed me while I was still all over woad and blood and glory. Damn it, she's lucky I didn't take my sword and run her through.

The warrior clasped Epona's curly head against her chest and gave a long sigh.

I'd better never punish her again when I'm angry like that. Epona's only a little thing. I could kill her without even meaning to.

The slave girl began to shiver. She burrowed against Tara's warmth, her teeth chattering audibly. "C-cold," she pleaded hoarsely. "So cold..."

"Okay." Tara didn't even bother to test the girl's temperature; she fumbled for the cup and water skin. "Hang on, Epona. I'll dose you again." She'd prepared the herbs in advance, and she was glad she had. It would have been difficult to mix them properly in the dark. Tara filled the cup with water and held it to Epona's mouth. "Here. Swallow that." The slave gulped weakly. A few minutes later, her shivering abated, and she slept like one dead. Grimly, Tara spurred her mount, and the two of them were carried swiftly through the silvered shadows.