"2570-07" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jerome Bigge - Warlady 8 - The Queen Of Time)THE QUEEN OF TIME 2570 A.D.! A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE By Jerome B. Bigge Chapter Seven "It is the year 318 after the Great War, the month is June, and I believe it is the 20th of the month, kind mistress," she spoke in a terrified voice, her eyes as gray as steel looking up into mine as I nodded back, mentally translating that this was the year 2365, or two centuries before I'd come into this time... The last year of the "reign" of Queen Amethysta, I recalled then. The "founder" of Trelandar, the "George Washington" of my nation! She had "disappeared" under mysterious circumstances, and nothing more was known of her, although it was believed that she'd "met with foul play", and had perhaps been murdered by some assassins. "318?" Hope breathed, unfamiliar with how time was measured here after the great war here between Earth and Mars that had de- stroyed almost everything that Mankind had ever built, and leav- ing behind only barbaric savages fighting over the remains of it. "Time is measured here from The War of 2047," I explained, building up the fire a bit, the flickering flames lighting up the slave girl's face as she knelt there closed legged before me now. Her knees well together, as is fitting when kneeling before free women such as ourselves, the wench obviously fairly well trained, her attire as I have stated only a strip of cloth about her hips. Her nipples were pierced, and fitted with fine tiny golden rings. "You have a name?" I then addressed the slave girl. "And from who did you escape?" I challenged, well aware that she was a runaway slave girl, and one also quite likely to be sought after. A wench of her coloring and figuring going for somewhere between forty and fifty gold crowns in a good market, I estimated then... Women with blonde hair generally being worth "more" than darker haired women. The reasons for this go far back in time, and are I believe from information I've obtained from Mars, the result of Mankind's near "worship" of the golden haired Lorr Servitors that early Man had seen. This "cultural bias" towards the "blond" goes very far back in Man's own history, and reached its zenith with the Nazis and their own idiotic racial philosophy, who saw the "blond" Aryan "superman" as now being superior to all others. "I am `Karen', mistress," the girl said, looking up at me. "And `who' is your master?" I now challenged her in reply. "Lord Darius," she then whispered, looking down at my feet. "Interesting," I spoke, wondering if there was a "relation", the last male heir of the Daris line having died in 2565, it be- ing quite possible that there'd been a change here in both the spelling of the name and its "pronunciation" over the centuries. "And this is Trelandar?" I asked, wondering if Karen knew anything about Queen Amethysta, who was almost a legend. It be- ing said that Amethysta had risen from being a fighting slut in the arena exhibitions to finally becoming the Queen of Trelandar! "Most people now do call it `that', `mistress'," Karen said. "Why did you run away from your master?" Hope now asked her. "Mistress wished me to lick between her legs," Karen said. "`Typical' of a society like this!" Hope snapped angrily. "Such things have existed for thousands of years," I said. "Doesn't make them `right'," Hope pointed out to me then, getting in the last word here, making me "smile" a bit to myself. I expect too that there was a time that black slave girls in the pre-Civil War South had to do the same thing to their own white skinned mistresses. Such "abuse" of female slaves is common, and no doubt the major reason why most slave girls fear being sold to one of their own sex. Why they always beg to be sold to a man... I watched Karen now eating the last of the roots and berries we'd collected, the thought going through my mind that the wench was more a "liability" to us here than an "asset" if we were found in possession of the golden haired delight. Karen being a woman that any man might well lust after, a nicely figured woman of average height for this era, perhaps about five foot five, I guessed, judging Karen by Hope's own height of about five seven. I'd "pumped" Karen of all the information she possessed, enough to give me a pretty good idea as to how things stood in this era. Trelandar in this era being divided up into a number of feudal estates, each ruled over by some "Lord", who owed but the scant- est of loyalties to the national government there in Trella, the capital. Amethysta having done what she could to draw the nation together, but after her death (so I thought then) Trelandar would be again "divided", with the local "warlords" once again in con- trol of things. The thought going through my mind that what Ame- thysta really "needed" here now was a good "Warlady" to pull the country back "together", and yours truly was the "best" she knew. Of course that would "change" my own future, so I suspected that Amethysta would die sometime this year, and Trelandar would tear apart after her death, facing threats both from Sarn to the north (sounds like what Darlanis was doing about 2553) and the Dularni- ans at sea. The swift raiders making everyone's life perilous... "What can we `do' for her?" Hope whispered as she sat at my side, the flickering firelight making Karen's eyes "glow" as she looked over at us. She was a "liability" to us, harboring an es- caped slave girl being a crime in every society that I knew of... On the other hand I didn't want to hand her back to her mistress! I am of the Warrioresses, and my honor was at stake here now too. Such things are often hard to understand for those who are not of my caste. Who do not bear the caste mark there on their wrists. A society without "honor" is in my opinion doomed to destruction. There must be "standards", something more than selfish interest. This was, I believe, not clearly understood there in the past... "No way of getting that collar off her neck without tools," I answered, thinking of how we might manage to conceal Karen's "status" as a slave girl when we entered Thistle, that still be- ing in my opinion our best "move" here. I'd try to get in con- tact with the Priestesses of Lys, see what they could "do" here. "I should have brought my bow, arrows," Hope now commented. "Would have `helped'," I grinned, aware that I'd never had any idea that something like "this" could ever happen to us here! I'd always had the idea that the "technology" of the Priestesses of Lys was about as "infallible" as anything that could be built. The thought going through my mind that perhaps the arrival of the Lorr disc might have had something to do with it here. Another idea I had was that Patty Pugs might have "shorted" something out when she was caught in the edge of the "Gateway", which reduced the amount of energy, causing us to thus end up here in this era! "We could end up like `her'," Hope breathed, watching Karen. The slave girl now curling up next to the fire, the night being "chill" enough that one might wish for a nice warm blanket here! "I'm aware of that...," I breathed, wondering what we could do here in a society where sometimes "stranger" and "enemy" were almost the "same" in their meaning. In the 26th Century I'd been considered a "Dularnian" due to my 20th Century accent, and while I probably didn't have as "much" of an "accent" now, I still had the same "accent" as many Dularnians would have. And Hope's own "accent" was that of the 21st Century, even different than mine! "I just hope that Patty Pugs didn't suffer," Hope said now. "I'd expect she was instantly electrocuted," I answered. "`Cold' for June," Hope "commented", shivering a bit now. "There was a `nuclear winter' after The War," I explained. "You'll find that the climate is colder now than it was before." We'd searched the interior of the house earlier, found nothing of value to us, such things having been taken perhaps centuries ago. "She's cold," Hope noted, Karen curled up tight against the chill of the night, shivering, her naked body covered with goose pimples. The strip of cloth about her hips covering very little. "I hope you don't have `hang ups' about letting your body touch that of another woman's," I said, calling Karen over to us. "Little warmer now?" I asked, Hope's body warm against mine as she laid sandwiched between Karen and me just inside the house where we might at least get out of the night air, the smoke from the fire having leaked into the house, stinking it up a bit here. "Don't know how much sleep I'm going to get," she answered. ***************************************************************** "Our best `bet' now is to try to reach Trella," I suggested as the birds cheerfully greeted the morning sun, having given it much thought as I'd tried to get some sleep during the night. In a city like Trella I might be able to buy the items I'd need to make Hope into more a woman of this era. And also get the neces- sary tools to remove Karen's slave collar, which marked her as being the property girl of Lord Darius in no uncertain terms too. The "stiffness" and ache in my bones leaving no doubt that I was getting a bit "old" for these sorts of "adventures", the thought making me smile to myself as we gathered up our few possessions. "Won't we have to cross the ruins of Los Angeles?" Hope asked, well aware that no one but a fool would attempt to do so. It being said even in the 26th Century that it'd never been done! "We'll give them a wide berth," I answered, wondering how I was going to walk such a distance in the boots I was wearing now? The thought going through my mind that like Karen I'd have to go barefoot, as my boots were made for "style", not for walking in!! "Doesn't `look' any different than it did back in my time," Hope commented as we walked towards the south, keeping to the forest paths, Karen now naked, her strip of cloth having been left half a mile from the house, hopefully perhaps deceiving any who might be in pursuit of her to believe that she was taken by either animals or perhaps outlaws, who would no doubt keep her as their own slave until they grew tired of her and sold her to some unscrupulous slaver willing to "purchase" a "runaway" slave girl! "Most mutations tend to be `self destructive'," I answered. Animals also have an instinctive impulse to destroy that which is "mu" for some reason, as has been noted by Scribes for centuries. "I hear something," Karen spoke, halting to carefully listen as we both strained our ears to "hear" whatever she was hearing! "Sounds like the baying of dogs," Hope breathed, her hearing being a bit more "acute" than mine. The thought making a cold chill go down my spine at the thought of what we might face now!! "It is `me' they want, mistresses," Karen said to us then. "There are not likely to be `that many'," I mused then. "Lorraine! You can't be thinking...!" Hope protested. "They will track us once they get Karen," I replied. "Maybe they don't `know' about us!" Hope now pleaded. "We leave `tracks', don't we?" I "pointed out" to her! "You just can't `kill' innocent people!" Hope now cried! "I'm a `barbarian' who `can'," I "smiled", drawing my sword. "You can decide whether you'd rather `fight' or be a slave girl!" The baying of the dogs leaving no doubts they were on to us now!* * My reasoning here goes as this: Karen would be forced to re- veal that she was rescued by "strangers", by people who were "not of" Trelandar. Here in this "post-War" era the "stranger" is of- ten considered in the same terms as an "enemy". It is the usual policy to enslave enemy women, especially if they are attractive. "You could change your entire future!" Hope then protested! "That" was something I hadn't thought of. While it was unlikely here that I could make much of a "difference" in things, it was just possible that one of these people was the ancestor of one of my own friends in the 26th Century, and by killing them I would be changing my own future. On the other hand I didn't think it was possible to actually "change" things, as it seemed to me now that my taking of Hope from her own time had merely "verified" what Sanda had told me about Hope's "mysterious disappearance"... THE QUEEN OF TIME 2570 A.D.! A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE By Jerome B. Bigge Chapter Seven "It is the year 318 after the Great War, the month is June, and I believe it is the 20th of the month, kind mistress," she spoke in a terrified voice, her eyes as gray as steel looking up into mine as I nodded back, mentally translating that this was the year 2365, or two centuries before I'd come into this time... The last year of the "reign" of Queen Amethysta, I recalled then. The "founder" of Trelandar, the "George Washington" of my nation! She had "disappeared" under mysterious circumstances, and nothing more was known of her, although it was believed that she'd "met with foul play", and had perhaps been murdered by some assassins. "318?" Hope breathed, unfamiliar with how time was measured here after the great war here between Earth and Mars that had de- stroyed almost everything that Mankind had ever built, and leav- ing behind only barbaric savages fighting over the remains of it. "Time is measured here from The War of 2047," I explained, building up the fire a bit, the flickering flames lighting up the slave girl's face as she knelt there closed legged before me now. Her knees well together, as is fitting when kneeling before free women such as ourselves, the wench obviously fairly well trained, her attire as I have stated only a strip of cloth about her hips. Her nipples were pierced, and fitted with fine tiny golden rings. "You have a name?" I then addressed the slave girl. "And from who did you escape?" I challenged, well aware that she was a runaway slave girl, and one also quite likely to be sought after. A wench of her coloring and figuring going for somewhere between forty and fifty gold crowns in a good market, I estimated then... Women with blonde hair generally being worth "more" than darker haired women. The reasons for this go far back in time, and are I believe from information I've obtained from Mars, the result of Mankind's near "worship" of the golden haired Lorr Servitors that early Man had seen. This "cultural bias" towards the "blond" goes very far back in Man's own history, and reached its zenith with the Nazis and their own idiotic racial philosophy, who saw the "blond" Aryan "superman" as now being superior to all others. "I am `Karen', mistress," the girl said, looking up at me. "And `who' is your master?" I now challenged her in reply. "Lord Darius," she then whispered, looking down at my feet. "Interesting," I spoke, wondering if there was a "relation", the last male heir of the Daris line having died in 2565, it be- ing quite possible that there'd been a change here in both the spelling of the name and its "pronunciation" over the centuries. "And this is Trelandar?" I asked, wondering if Karen knew anything about Queen Amethysta, who was almost a legend. It be- ing said that Amethysta had risen from being a fighting slut in the arena exhibitions to finally becoming the Queen of Trelandar! "Most people now do call it `that', `mistress'," Karen said. "Why did you run away from your master?" Hope now asked her. "Mistress wished me to lick between her legs," Karen said. "`Typical' of a society like this!" Hope snapped angrily. "Such things have existed for thousands of years," I said. "Doesn't make them `right'," Hope pointed out to me then, getting in the last word here, making me "smile" a bit to myself. I expect too that there was a time that black slave girls in the pre-Civil War South had to do the same thing to their own white skinned mistresses. Such "abuse" of female slaves is common, and no doubt the major reason why most slave girls fear being sold to one of their own sex. Why they always beg to be sold to a man... I watched Karen now eating the last of the roots and berries we'd collected, the thought going through my mind that the wench was more a "liability" to us here than an "asset" if we were found in possession of the golden haired delight. Karen being a woman that any man might well lust after, a nicely figured woman of average height for this era, perhaps about five foot five, I guessed, judging Karen by Hope's own height of about five seven. I'd "pumped" Karen of all the information she possessed, enough to give me a pretty good idea as to how things stood in this era. Trelandar in this era being divided up into a number of feudal estates, each ruled over by some "Lord", who owed but the scant- est of loyalties to the national government there in Trella, the capital. Amethysta having done what she could to draw the nation together, but after her death (so I thought then) Trelandar would be again "divided", with the local "warlords" once again in con- trol of things. The thought going through my mind that what Ame- thysta really "needed" here now was a good "Warlady" to pull the country back "together", and yours truly was the "best" she knew. Of course that would "change" my own future, so I suspected that Amethysta would die sometime this year, and Trelandar would tear apart after her death, facing threats both from Sarn to the north (sounds like what Darlanis was doing about 2553) and the Dularni- ans at sea. The swift raiders making everyone's life perilous... "What can we `do' for her?" Hope whispered as she sat at my side, the flickering firelight making Karen's eyes "glow" as she looked over at us. She was a "liability" to us, harboring an es- caped slave girl being a crime in every society that I knew of... On the other hand I didn't want to hand her back to her mistress! I am of the Warrioresses, and my honor was at stake here now too. Such things are often hard to understand for those who are not of my caste. Who do not bear the caste mark there on their wrists. A society without "honor" is in my opinion doomed to destruction. There must be "standards", something more than selfish interest. This was, I believe, not clearly understood there in the past... "No way of getting that collar off her neck without tools," I answered, thinking of how we might manage to conceal Karen's "status" as a slave girl when we entered Thistle, that still be- ing in my opinion our best "move" here. I'd try to get in con- tact with the Priestesses of Lys, see what they could "do" here. "I should have brought my bow, arrows," Hope now commented. "Would have `helped'," I grinned, aware that I'd never had any idea that something like "this" could ever happen to us here! I'd always had the idea that the "technology" of the Priestesses of Lys was about as "infallible" as anything that could be built. The thought going through my mind that perhaps the arrival of the Lorr disc might have had something to do with it here. Another idea I had was that Patty Pugs might have "shorted" something out when she was caught in the edge of the "Gateway", which reduced the amount of energy, causing us to thus end up here in this era! "We could end up like `her'," Hope breathed, watching Karen. The slave girl now curling up next to the fire, the night being "chill" enough that one might wish for a nice warm blanket here! "I'm aware of that...," I breathed, wondering what we could do here in a society where sometimes "stranger" and "enemy" were almost the "same" in their meaning. In the 26th Century I'd been considered a "Dularnian" due to my 20th Century accent, and while I probably didn't have as "much" of an "accent" now, I still had the same "accent" as many Dularnians would have. And Hope's own "accent" was that of the 21st Century, even different than mine! "I just hope that Patty Pugs didn't suffer," Hope said now. "I'd expect she was instantly electrocuted," I answered. "`Cold' for June," Hope "commented", shivering a bit now. "There was a `nuclear winter' after The War," I explained. "You'll find that the climate is colder now than it was before." We'd searched the interior of the house earlier, found nothing of value to us, such things having been taken perhaps centuries ago. "She's cold," Hope noted, Karen curled up tight against the chill of the night, shivering, her naked body covered with goose pimples. The strip of cloth about her hips covering very little. "I hope you don't have `hang ups' about letting your body touch that of another woman's," I said, calling Karen over to us. "Little warmer now?" I asked, Hope's body warm against mine as she laid sandwiched between Karen and me just inside the house where we might at least get out of the night air, the smoke from the fire having leaked into the house, stinking it up a bit here. "Don't know how much sleep I'm going to get," she answered. ***************************************************************** "Our best `bet' now is to try to reach Trella," I suggested as the birds cheerfully greeted the morning sun, having given it much thought as I'd tried to get some sleep during the night. In a city like Trella I might be able to buy the items I'd need to make Hope into more a woman of this era. And also get the neces- sary tools to remove Karen's slave collar, which marked her as being the property girl of Lord Darius in no uncertain terms too. The "stiffness" and ache in my bones leaving no doubt that I was getting a bit "old" for these sorts of "adventures", the thought making me smile to myself as we gathered up our few possessions. "Won't we have to cross the ruins of Los Angeles?" Hope asked, well aware that no one but a fool would attempt to do so. It being said even in the 26th Century that it'd never been done! "We'll give them a wide berth," I answered, wondering how I was going to walk such a distance in the boots I was wearing now? The thought going through my mind that like Karen I'd have to go barefoot, as my boots were made for "style", not for walking in!! "Doesn't `look' any different than it did back in my time," Hope commented as we walked towards the south, keeping to the forest paths, Karen now naked, her strip of cloth having been left half a mile from the house, hopefully perhaps deceiving any who might be in pursuit of her to believe that she was taken by either animals or perhaps outlaws, who would no doubt keep her as their own slave until they grew tired of her and sold her to some unscrupulous slaver willing to "purchase" a "runaway" slave girl! "Most mutations tend to be `self destructive'," I answered. Animals also have an instinctive impulse to destroy that which is "mu" for some reason, as has been noted by Scribes for centuries. "I hear something," Karen spoke, halting to carefully listen as we both strained our ears to "hear" whatever she was hearing! "Sounds like the baying of dogs," Hope breathed, her hearing being a bit more "acute" than mine. The thought making a cold chill go down my spine at the thought of what we might face now!! "It is `me' they want, mistresses," Karen said to us then. "There are not likely to be `that many'," I mused then. "Lorraine! You can't be thinking...!" Hope protested. "They will track us once they get Karen," I replied. "Maybe they don't `know' about us!" Hope now pleaded. "We leave `tracks', don't we?" I "pointed out" to her! "You just can't `kill' innocent people!" Hope now cried! "I'm a `barbarian' who `can'," I "smiled", drawing my sword. "You can decide whether you'd rather `fight' or be a slave girl!" The baying of the dogs leaving no doubts they were on to us now!* * My reasoning here goes as this: Karen would be forced to re- veal that she was rescued by "strangers", by people who were "not of" Trelandar. Here in this "post-War" era the "stranger" is of- ten considered in the same terms as an "enemy". It is the usual policy to enslave enemy women, especially if they are attractive. "You could change your entire future!" Hope then protested! "That" was something I hadn't thought of. While it was unlikely here that I could make much of a "difference" in things, it was just possible that one of these people was the ancestor of one of my own friends in the 26th Century, and by killing them I would be changing my own future. On the other hand I didn't think it was possible to actually "change" things, as it seemed to me now that my taking of Hope from her own time had merely "verified" what Sanda had told me about Hope's "mysterious disappearance"... |
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