"2570-08" - 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 Eight "You can't be `serious' about this!" Hope protested as Karen knelt there nude in the middle of the game trail awaiting the riders whose hoofbeats I now could hear along with the baying of the dogs. These type of dogs being trained to "track", not fight as my own Bull Terriers were. I doubted that there would be more than half a dozen men, most likely just "men at arms", not true members of the caste of Warriors. Serious "odds", but not beyond my own capability to handle assuming that Hope did her part here! Surprise playing a large element in the "success" of my "plans". "We have no `friends' in this time," I pointed out to her. I do not take "pleasure" in killing, but on the other hand I do not hesitate to do so once I have determined it is "necessary" to do so. If that makes me a "psychopath" then that's "what" I am!! As I have mentioned earlier I am not like even most of my caste in that I totally lack the normal inhibitions against taking hu- man life. This is why, I think, I am the sort of a person I am. Perhaps a bit too "hard", but on the other hand perhaps I am the sort that when war comes is called upon to fight for "the cause". To keep you safe in your homes, save your daughters from slavery. That tall black clad "Warlady" who stands on the quarterdeck of a ship of war, the same Queen of Trelandar who has faced the enemy. Borne the wounds, faced the death, the dangers of mortal combat! "You are truly a `Warlady'," Hope said, the tone of her voice leaving no doubts as to her true feelings in this matter. The accent on the title "Warlady" now only further "proof" here. "You wouldn't look `bad' with a collar about your throat," I "snapped" back, seeing the first of the riders between the trees. It being obvious to me that this daughter of Carol Simmons didn't have her own "killer instincts" that had made her so impressive! "If Karen warns them...," Hope breathed from beside me. "She will `do' as I've told her," I told Miss Simmons. The riders and their unicorns were little different from what I had expected, the men, six of them, being armed with bows and the commonplace short sword much like that of Hope's own era. Karen putting her head down as she knelt there in the middle of the game trail, her knees well spread to display her hairy pubes. The dogs running up to her, standing there and barking loudly. The men dismounting from their unicorns, grinning at each other! "NOW!" I hissed, leaping from the brush where I'd concealed myself, Hope lagging a bit behind, no doubt still in doubt of the "need" to kill here. I was disappointed in the girl, hoping that she'd be more like Carol, who wouldn't have "hesitated" here now! "Aii!" a man screamed in terror, my blade driving deep be- fore he could draw the blade he carried. My razor tip now slash- ing another's throat as he went for his own weapon! Hope engag- ing a third in a brief clash of swordplay while I went after a fourth among the prancing startled unicorns and the barking dogs! This man now meeting me sword to sword, the steel of our blades "ringing" together for just a brief instant before I found the "opening" I needed and sent his soul too to greet SHE who is all! "Mistresses!" Karen cried, the last two now vaulting to the saddles of their unicorns, fleeing us, Karen then running up be- side one, driving the blade deep into his leg before his unicorn carried him away from us! The two "fleeing" as if the EVIL ONE himself was hot in pursuit! Leaving us three now standing there! "I feel...," Hope breathed, a bit "breathless" from it all! Her sword still yet in her hand as I cleaned my own blade with a bit of cloth. The sword was stainless steel, centuries old, once a "gift" to me from a woman who wouldn't be born now for a couple centuries yet. A vision of her for a moment filling my thoughts. A woman tall and golden, the Empress of the Empire of California. Darlanis, that beautiful golden ruler of my own beloved "world"!! "You never get completely `used' to it," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. "Even old `Warladies' like me don't." Her hazel eyes looking up into mine as I added, "You `do' what you have to `do', and worry about the `morality' of it later on." With time I thought she would understand the meaning of my words. "The `reality' of it is different from the `fantasy'," she answered, standing there. I think she had learned much of life. "My mother used to tell me that," Hope added, seeing me nod back. "I think she also knew `more' of such things than I thought too." Carol having a "killer instinct" that Hope was lacking in here. Hope was a better swordswoman, but Carol was the better fighter! As I've said before, being a Warrioress is "more" than just being skilled with weapons. It is more a matter of "attitude", I feel. "What was your caste before you were enslaved?" I asked Ka- ren as she stood there, her "actions" in picking up a sword and trying to help us indicating that she was more than just a slut. Just some "plaything" for the men of this era to enjoy "abusing". The "feminists" of the past never realizing that the "RIGHTS OF WOMEN" depended upon to a great degree the "agreement" of MEN to honor those "rights" which women of the past so took for granted! Now of course such things are clearly "understood" by both sexes. This is "why" the woman of the 26th Century usually is "armed". Why the mothers of Trelandar train their daughters to "fight"... "I was the daughter of a Merchant in Sarn," she answered. "A Dularnian raider took the ship I was on, and I was then later sold to a slaver who in turn sold me in Thistle to Lord Darius." Many of these "Dularnian raiders" being more "pirates" than any- thing else, Dularn having a cultural history of such things de- spite the attempts here that Queen Maris has now made to deny it. On the other hand there were perhaps just as many if not "more" Californians who have looked upon the women of other nations in the same light, the enslavement of women going back a long ways! "Won't Lord Darius send more men after us?" Hope "ventured". "Will those men tell their master they were defeated by two women?" I smiled, knowing what story my own men would have told. There being no doubt in my mind that they would claim that they'd been attacked by a band of outlaws, and they alone had escaped!! "A definite `improvement' over walking," I told Hope as she "bounced" in the saddle of the trotting unicorn there beside me. The sunbeams now shining down through the leafy boughs overhead. It was a lovely day, peaceful and quiet, in a "world" far more "cleaner" than that of the 20th or 21st Centuries had been here. There is much to be said for having strict "population control". "If you say so...," Hope answered, it being "obviously" the very first time she'd ever been on the back of an animal here... Her right hand in a "death grip" holding the front of her saddle. The unicorn fortunately docile, content to follow behind Karen's. "If you stand in your stirrups a little it will be a more `comfortable' ride," I replied, Hope not knowing how to ride the trot, the saddles being much like the military saddle of the 19th Century, no doubt due to the fact that there is one "best" way of "doing" such things, as Mankind has found out over the ages here. "How far do you think we've come?" Hope asked, rubbing the leaves I'd picked on the interiors of her chafed thighs as Karen tended to the fire, the slave girl like most women of this era being quite at "home" out here in the forests, more so I suspect- ed than Hope might be, who was more a "civilized" type of woman. Hope's own attire so "provocative" by my own standards that I had no doubt she'd be mistaken for a prostitute anywhere in this era! These clothing styles of the 21st Century imply that Janet Rogers wished to keep people's minds (at least men's) off of "politics". On the other hand perhaps I am wrong, as Hope "claims" that I am. Hope saying that such attire served to celebrate a woman's body, which is quite possible as the woman of that era did have a rath- er "high" opinion of herself, as has been noted here by Scribes.* * Whether or not "this" had any bearing upon the enslavement of women after The War is something philosophers have "debated" now for centuries. In my own personal opinion probably very little. "Perhaps thirty five to forty miles," I smiled, Karen set- ting out the dried meat and "iron rations" we'd found in the sad- dlebags. The blonde now clad in the vest and kilt of one of our late pursuers, although her slave collar left no doubt as to what her true status was, as well as betraying her as being an escaped slave, something that I knew might get us into serious trouble... The sun was low in the west, sinking down behind the thick trees. We now had weapons, bows of sinew and horn on a yew base, weapons quite "different" from those of my own era, but yet "effective" in my hands, although the bows were too "hard" for Hope or Karen. Behind us a fallen structure of some sort, trees growing through it, the reinforced concrete walls yet standing despite the three centuries that had passed. I felt it best that we camp here, not out in the open, especially considering the sort of animal life we'd encountered the day before, there being little doubt in my mind here that the "sport hunters" of the 26th Century didn't yet exist in the numbers that they would here two centuries from now. "Another couple days' ride to Trella," Hope smiled back, the insides of her thighs almost rubbed raw from bouncing in the sad- dle. We could walk our mounts, but that would greatly slow us. "What mistress needs is `chaps'," Karen ventured to her. "Not a `dumb blonde'," Hope grinned back at me then... "I keep `thinking'...," Hope spoke, the Moon rising in the east. It was growing chill now, the stars bright points of light in the sky overhead as we listened to the sounds of the forest's "nightlife" around us. I nodded in reply, well aware of "what" sort of thoughts that were going through her mind just then. She had come from a much "different" sort of culture than I'd gotten used to here in the last five years. While Carol had doubtlessly trained her well in the use of arms, yet Hope was not a "Warrio- ress", not truly a fighting woman. In "this" she reminded me of Sharon, who was much like her in this. I was on the other hand a "misfit" in the 20th Century, a "barbarian" who never "belonged". A person who was also quite "politically `incorrect'" by the overly "liberal" standards of my late Twentieth Century America. I believed in the "old values", in "honor", in "free enterprise". "Their lives or our `freedom'," I said, seeing her nodding. It had not been an "easy" decision for even me to "make", but it had to be the way that it was. I have no doubt taken the lives of "innocents" in the battles I've fought, people who meant me no harm, but "that" is one of the "truths" that a Warrioress learns. "This society reminds me of my mother's books," she spoke. These being a series of three books about a "California" in the Twenty Second Century after a great disaster had taken place. I was a "featured villain" in the stories, Carol's "evil Queen"... "I'm not your mother's `Queen Lorraine'," I smiled back. "I guess I've got a lot to learn," she said to me then. "It's called `growing up'," I smiled, giving her a hug. THE QUEEN OF TIME 2570 A.D.! A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE By Jerome B. Bigge Chapter Eight "You can't be `serious' about this!" Hope protested as Karen knelt there nude in the middle of the game trail awaiting the riders whose hoofbeats I now could hear along with the baying of the dogs. These type of dogs being trained to "track", not fight as my own Bull Terriers were. I doubted that there would be more than half a dozen men, most likely just "men at arms", not true members of the caste of Warriors. Serious "odds", but not beyond my own capability to handle assuming that Hope did her part here! Surprise playing a large element in the "success" of my "plans". "We have no `friends' in this time," I pointed out to her. I do not take "pleasure" in killing, but on the other hand I do not hesitate to do so once I have determined it is "necessary" to do so. If that makes me a "psychopath" then that's "what" I am!! As I have mentioned earlier I am not like even most of my caste in that I totally lack the normal inhibitions against taking hu- man life. This is why, I think, I am the sort of a person I am. Perhaps a bit too "hard", but on the other hand perhaps I am the sort that when war comes is called upon to fight for "the cause". To keep you safe in your homes, save your daughters from slavery. That tall black clad "Warlady" who stands on the quarterdeck of a ship of war, the same Queen of Trelandar who has faced the enemy. Borne the wounds, faced the death, the dangers of mortal combat! "You are truly a `Warlady'," Hope said, the tone of her voice leaving no doubts as to her true feelings in this matter. The accent on the title "Warlady" now only further "proof" here. "You wouldn't look `bad' with a collar about your throat," I "snapped" back, seeing the first of the riders between the trees. It being obvious to me that this daughter of Carol Simmons didn't have her own "killer instincts" that had made her so impressive! "If Karen warns them...," Hope breathed from beside me. "She will `do' as I've told her," I told Miss Simmons. The riders and their unicorns were little different from what I had expected, the men, six of them, being armed with bows and the commonplace short sword much like that of Hope's own era. Karen putting her head down as she knelt there in the middle of the game trail, her knees well spread to display her hairy pubes. The dogs running up to her, standing there and barking loudly. The men dismounting from their unicorns, grinning at each other! "NOW!" I hissed, leaping from the brush where I'd concealed myself, Hope lagging a bit behind, no doubt still in doubt of the "need" to kill here. I was disappointed in the girl, hoping that she'd be more like Carol, who wouldn't have "hesitated" here now! "Aii!" a man screamed in terror, my blade driving deep be- fore he could draw the blade he carried. My razor tip now slash- ing another's throat as he went for his own weapon! Hope engag- ing a third in a brief clash of swordplay while I went after a fourth among the prancing startled unicorns and the barking dogs! This man now meeting me sword to sword, the steel of our blades "ringing" together for just a brief instant before I found the "opening" I needed and sent his soul too to greet SHE who is all! "Mistresses!" Karen cried, the last two now vaulting to the saddles of their unicorns, fleeing us, Karen then running up be- side one, driving the blade deep into his leg before his unicorn carried him away from us! The two "fleeing" as if the EVIL ONE himself was hot in pursuit! Leaving us three now standing there! "I feel...," Hope breathed, a bit "breathless" from it all! Her sword still yet in her hand as I cleaned my own blade with a bit of cloth. The sword was stainless steel, centuries old, once a "gift" to me from a woman who wouldn't be born now for a couple centuries yet. A vision of her for a moment filling my thoughts. A woman tall and golden, the Empress of the Empire of California. Darlanis, that beautiful golden ruler of my own beloved "world"!! "You never get completely `used' to it," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. "Even old `Warladies' like me don't." Her hazel eyes looking up into mine as I added, "You `do' what you have to `do', and worry about the `morality' of it later on." With time I thought she would understand the meaning of my words. "The `reality' of it is different from the `fantasy'," she answered, standing there. I think she had learned much of life. "My mother used to tell me that," Hope added, seeing me nod back. "I think she also knew `more' of such things than I thought too." Carol having a "killer instinct" that Hope was lacking in here. Hope was a better swordswoman, but Carol was the better fighter! As I've said before, being a Warrioress is "more" than just being skilled with weapons. It is more a matter of "attitude", I feel. "What was your caste before you were enslaved?" I asked Ka- ren as she stood there, her "actions" in picking up a sword and trying to help us indicating that she was more than just a slut. Just some "plaything" for the men of this era to enjoy "abusing". The "feminists" of the past never realizing that the "RIGHTS OF WOMEN" depended upon to a great degree the "agreement" of MEN to honor those "rights" which women of the past so took for granted! Now of course such things are clearly "understood" by both sexes. This is "why" the woman of the 26th Century usually is "armed". Why the mothers of Trelandar train their daughters to "fight"... "I was the daughter of a Merchant in Sarn," she answered. "A Dularnian raider took the ship I was on, and I was then later sold to a slaver who in turn sold me in Thistle to Lord Darius." Many of these "Dularnian raiders" being more "pirates" than any- thing else, Dularn having a cultural history of such things de- spite the attempts here that Queen Maris has now made to deny it. On the other hand there were perhaps just as many if not "more" Californians who have looked upon the women of other nations in the same light, the enslavement of women going back a long ways! "Won't Lord Darius send more men after us?" Hope "ventured". "Will those men tell their master they were defeated by two women?" I smiled, knowing what story my own men would have told. There being no doubt in my mind that they would claim that they'd been attacked by a band of outlaws, and they alone had escaped!! "A definite `improvement' over walking," I told Hope as she "bounced" in the saddle of the trotting unicorn there beside me. The sunbeams now shining down through the leafy boughs overhead. It was a lovely day, peaceful and quiet, in a "world" far more "cleaner" than that of the 20th or 21st Centuries had been here. There is much to be said for having strict "population control". "If you say so...," Hope answered, it being "obviously" the very first time she'd ever been on the back of an animal here... Her right hand in a "death grip" holding the front of her saddle. The unicorn fortunately docile, content to follow behind Karen's. "If you stand in your stirrups a little it will be a more `comfortable' ride," I replied, Hope not knowing how to ride the trot, the saddles being much like the military saddle of the 19th Century, no doubt due to the fact that there is one "best" way of "doing" such things, as Mankind has found out over the ages here. "How far do you think we've come?" Hope asked, rubbing the leaves I'd picked on the interiors of her chafed thighs as Karen tended to the fire, the slave girl like most women of this era being quite at "home" out here in the forests, more so I suspect- ed than Hope might be, who was more a "civilized" type of woman. Hope's own attire so "provocative" by my own standards that I had no doubt she'd be mistaken for a prostitute anywhere in this era! These clothing styles of the 21st Century imply that Janet Rogers wished to keep people's minds (at least men's) off of "politics". On the other hand perhaps I am wrong, as Hope "claims" that I am. Hope saying that such attire served to celebrate a woman's body, which is quite possible as the woman of that era did have a rath- er "high" opinion of herself, as has been noted here by Scribes.* * Whether or not "this" had any bearing upon the enslavement of women after The War is something philosophers have "debated" now for centuries. In my own personal opinion probably very little. "Perhaps thirty five to forty miles," I smiled, Karen set- ting out the dried meat and "iron rations" we'd found in the sad- dlebags. The blonde now clad in the vest and kilt of one of our late pursuers, although her slave collar left no doubt as to what her true status was, as well as betraying her as being an escaped slave, something that I knew might get us into serious trouble... The sun was low in the west, sinking down behind the thick trees. We now had weapons, bows of sinew and horn on a yew base, weapons quite "different" from those of my own era, but yet "effective" in my hands, although the bows were too "hard" for Hope or Karen. Behind us a fallen structure of some sort, trees growing through it, the reinforced concrete walls yet standing despite the three centuries that had passed. I felt it best that we camp here, not out in the open, especially considering the sort of animal life we'd encountered the day before, there being little doubt in my mind here that the "sport hunters" of the 26th Century didn't yet exist in the numbers that they would here two centuries from now. "Another couple days' ride to Trella," Hope smiled back, the insides of her thighs almost rubbed raw from bouncing in the sad- dle. We could walk our mounts, but that would greatly slow us. "What mistress needs is `chaps'," Karen ventured to her. "Not a `dumb blonde'," Hope grinned back at me then... "I keep `thinking'...," Hope spoke, the Moon rising in the east. It was growing chill now, the stars bright points of light in the sky overhead as we listened to the sounds of the forest's "nightlife" around us. I nodded in reply, well aware of "what" sort of thoughts that were going through her mind just then. She had come from a much "different" sort of culture than I'd gotten used to here in the last five years. While Carol had doubtlessly trained her well in the use of arms, yet Hope was not a "Warrio- ress", not truly a fighting woman. In "this" she reminded me of Sharon, who was much like her in this. I was on the other hand a "misfit" in the 20th Century, a "barbarian" who never "belonged". A person who was also quite "politically `incorrect'" by the overly "liberal" standards of my late Twentieth Century America. I believed in the "old values", in "honor", in "free enterprise". "Their lives or our `freedom'," I said, seeing her nodding. It had not been an "easy" decision for even me to "make", but it had to be the way that it was. I have no doubt taken the lives of "innocents" in the battles I've fought, people who meant me no harm, but "that" is one of the "truths" that a Warrioress learns. "This society reminds me of my mother's books," she spoke. These being a series of three books about a "California" in the Twenty Second Century after a great disaster had taken place. I was a "featured villain" in the stories, Carol's "evil Queen"... "I'm not your mother's `Queen Lorraine'," I smiled back. "I guess I've got a lot to learn," she said to me then. "It's called `growing up'," I smiled, giving her a hug. |
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