"FREE-13" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jerome Bigge - Warlady 9 - The Freedom Fighters Of Trelandar)Freedom Fighters of Trelandar A Tale of Adventure in the Second Dark Age Book Nine of the Warlady Series By Jerome B. Bigge Chapter Thirteen "Such `dashing' adventures you have!" Queen Paula smiled to me, my sister's dark eyes glowing into mine over the golden rim of her goblet. Her slave girl kneeling there beside her, ready to be of service. Kathy was the girl's name, a pretty wench, not really a "beauty", but no doubt satisfactory to Paula. The steel collar locked about her throat a contrast to the darkness of her hair. Paula was not a woman who abused her slaves, but she did have a lot of them, and they did "everything" but wipe her ass... I knew too as Queen she didn't think anything of it here either, Paula being a woman who felt that she was destined to be a Queen. My parents had always thought "more" of her than me, Paula being the oldest, and the most beautiful, a Warrioress, and now Queen. I'd always come in "second", getting the hand me downs from her. Everyone would "oh and ah" over Paula, saying how "wonderful" she was, whereas I was just the daughter introduced as an after note. A kind of "Oh, I forgot, here's Sanda, our little `bookworm'..." The "implication" being that I was something of an embarrassment. "Your sister is an `amazing woman', a `Warrioress' despite herself," Carl Talen said to Paula, having found himself suitable attire for an affair like this. The evening gown I wore, one of Paula's, not fitting me too well. Paula was five nine to my five seven, and slimmer than I am here. The silvery silk was so tight it was like a second skin on me. I supposed Carl enjoyed it, as it didn't leave any "doubts" either about me now! "Outlining" my breasts, belly, and jutting behind as it did whenever I stood. "She should bear the caste mark," Paula said, looking at me. "At one time there was civilian command of the military," I smiled to her, drawing upon my awesome knowledge of such things. It being held by the dominant martial castes that such was a mis- take, that nations should be governed by those who fight for them and not by those who stay home and make money while others die... This being based upon a "comment" that Janet Rogers used to make, her writings and own philosophy being of course well known here. Janet having "founded" the Warrior and Warrioress castes in 2012. Limiting the right to "vote" to those who had served the country. "A `mistake' we have not repeated," Carl smiled in reply, my sister nodding, her dark eyes glowing into mine as she understood the implications of this. I knew of no nation in this time that was governed by someone NOT of the Warriors or the Warrioresses. Paula was a Warrioress, Darlanis was a Warrioress, Tara "was" of the Warrioresses even if she "violated" the caste codes at times, Dala of Talon was a Warrioress, as was Tulis of Dularn, it being noteworthy that every country here in North America was governed by a woman, a woman who wore the "black" of the Warrioress caste. Dularn and Talon being "Queendoms", where only a woman may rule. "History has taught us the folly of such ideas," Paula said. It hadn't been something I should have said, but I was annoyed at the "attitude" so many of the martial castes had that no one else really "counted", that the rest of us existed just for them here! Paula having even said something to that effect after a battle as she walked among the fallen holding her gown drawn up a bit here. That those who had fallen had been "splendid"; her whole attitude one of a "superior being" more worthy than those who had fallen. "And Sanda, if you were truly now of the Scribes you would not be `what' you are," Paula continued, sipping at her wine, her slave girl at her side. It being my sister's opinion that I should see the Priestesses of Lys and work out this "attitude" I had towards being a Warrioress. Accept the caste mark, and take my "proper" place in society. She had said so many times before, ever since I'd graduated from the Academy in 2540 and then refused to accept the mark of the "sword". In private she was known to say that I was "nuts", not "right"; "comments" that had cut me to the quick. "All that `history' has shown us is that any group who lords it over everyone else eventually comes to `believe' that they are the rightful masters of Mankind and that all the rest of us exist only to serve them," I answered her back. "Just as a time exist- ed when it was believed that a white skin and blond hair made you a superior being to everyone else," I continued, aware that there were a lot of people who still believed that; the "ideal woman" still being tall, blonde, and white skinned, as many Dularnians were, as nearly all Lorr Servitors were for that matter, I knew. "Never argue with a Scribe," Paula smiled to Carl, her eyes, as dark as mine, glittering into my own, the precious jewels of her crown sparkling in the lamp light as she moved her head, the gold of the crown itself a contrast to the darkness of her hair. Like her counterpart Darlanis of Sarn she was a striking beauty, a woman who met the ideal of beauty that most men have of Queens. "I think Sanda clearly sees things we do not," Carl replied. "That the nature of warfare as we have known it has changed now." "Darlanis is not `conquering' Trelandar, she is taking po- litical control of it," I added, aware of what had been happening here. Of how Darlanis was even now setting up her own government in the portions of Trelandar that she now occupied. Breaking our country up into gigantic "estates" covering hundreds of square miles, setting up Imperial Lords and Ladies to govern the people. The thought going through my mind that I needed to penetrate in on further, go further north, and start striking at these people! Become a "terrorist" in reality instead of just one in name now!! "We need to outflank her, move our forces through the lower pass- es of the Sierras, and attack her rear, perhaps even attack Sarn if it is possible. Force her to fight us on our own terms now." "We are fighting a `defensive war', and `losing it'," Carl said, giving me a smile. "And Sanda seems to be the only one who offers us any hope of a victory over Darlanis," he said to Paula. The hard glitter in Paula's eyes indicating she didn't like this. Being upstaged by her "kid sister" like this, this sister of hers who refused to become a Warrioress, who had "shamed" our family! "We will eventually wear Darlanis down, defeat her," Paula answered, her voice icy cold. She had "humored" me by giving me permission to do what I wished, pitiful resources to carry out my mission, and my surprising success here no doubt embarrassed her! "I see no reason to change our military tactics now," I heard her say, aware that by her stubborness she'd doomed our own country!! (later) "You're as `good' as I'd hoped you'd be," Carl said to me as we laid together, the footfalls of guards patrolling the camp at times coming to my ears as I laid there beside him. A fingertip at the moment gently teasing my yet erected nipples, he having in his use of me given me much pleasure, more than Taime ever did... I had badly needed to be held, used after our dinner with Paula. Carl having been shown by Paula's own words "why" we were losing! That it was her own pride, her dislike of me, that caused it all! "We'll find a Priestess tomorrow, and you can chain me," I said, half rolling over to face him. My neck chain would mark me as married, as a wife, his wife, as Mrs. Carl Talen, although it was the practice now for the woman to use her own first name now. With this war going on, I saw no reason to wait. We worked well together, we respected each other, and I knew that he loved me. "Mrs. Sanda Talen," he grinned, reaching down, touching me. "You've had me twice already, and we need to sleep," I said, teasing him, using my own hand to caress, my body yet still wet. (the next day) "You may now fix the chain about Sanda's throat," the white gowned Priestess spoke, holding up her ankh there before her now here in this little village temple that everyone had gathered at. "And let not either man or woman put asunder what Lys has brought together..." she concluded, giving us both a warm smile. We had ridden into the nearby village, where Carl had purchased for me a lovely silver neck chain that would well serve to "mark" me here. My husband then doing so, while my sister stood with her Warrioresses. Pushing the locking rivet into place, and locking it with a tool. Marking me well as his wife, and legally as his "property" here, a bit of tradition speaking of a time now past when men actually did "own" their women much as they do a slave.* * This was during the first century or so after The War. (Sanda) "Ride south, `enjoy' yourselves," Paula said, giving Carl a smile as she put a small leather bag into his hand. The "clink" of the coins inside it leaving no doubts as to her gift here now. My fingertips reaching up of their own volition to touch the sil- ver links that circled my throat, marking me well as being "his". ***************************************************************** "This is `hard' for me," I spoke to Jon Richards as he re- viewed what I'd marked, the changes that I wished to have made... My old eyes moist with tears as I looked into his. Carl had been dead for fifty six years now, having died in the rescue of Darla- nis from the pirates in 2565, leaving me a widow, driving from my heart the joy I'd felt at the knowledge that Trelandar was FREE!! Reading all this I'd written so long ago bringing back memories I had buried deep in a recess of my mind I'd forgotten all about... "You were a `Warlady', just as `she' was," Jon answered, now standing up and going to the window. Looking out at "her" grave. The last resting place of the Queen of Trelandar, a Warlady whose name now was a legend on two worlds. Lorraine Richards, who had been born Lorraine Duclare in France in 1949, who had died in the year 2621, who had founded civilizations, everything we now knew. "I was just a woman good at guerrilla warfare," I said, now getting up, going to him, being "there" for him now in his loss. "I never was the fighter that she was," I added, seeing him nod. Slipping off the reading glasses that I used now for close work. "We have twenty seven years," he answered, looking at me. "I can never be to you what `she' was," I warned Jon then. "You're still a good looking woman," Jon said, regarding me. "I'm over a hundred, and I have gray in my hair," I replied. "You could be a `comfort' to an old man..." Jon said to me. He didn't look that "old", I mused privately to myself just now. Jon being a couple years "older" than me, an hundred and three... "We'll be `together' when the `end' comes," I said softly to him, moving into his arms, my lips seeking his as we then kissed. Freedom Fighters of Trelandar A Tale of Adventure in the Second Dark Age Book Nine of the Warlady Series By Jerome B. Bigge Chapter Thirteen "Such `dashing' adventures you have!" Queen Paula smiled to me, my sister's dark eyes glowing into mine over the golden rim of her goblet. Her slave girl kneeling there beside her, ready to be of service. Kathy was the girl's name, a pretty wench, not really a "beauty", but no doubt satisfactory to Paula. The steel collar locked about her throat a contrast to the darkness of her hair. Paula was not a woman who abused her slaves, but she did have a lot of them, and they did "everything" but wipe her ass... I knew too as Queen she didn't think anything of it here either, Paula being a woman who felt that she was destined to be a Queen. My parents had always thought "more" of her than me, Paula being the oldest, and the most beautiful, a Warrioress, and now Queen. I'd always come in "second", getting the hand me downs from her. Everyone would "oh and ah" over Paula, saying how "wonderful" she was, whereas I was just the daughter introduced as an after note. A kind of "Oh, I forgot, here's Sanda, our little `bookworm'..." The "implication" being that I was something of an embarrassment. "Your sister is an `amazing woman', a `Warrioress' despite herself," Carl Talen said to Paula, having found himself suitable attire for an affair like this. The evening gown I wore, one of Paula's, not fitting me too well. Paula was five nine to my five seven, and slimmer than I am here. The silvery silk was so tight it was like a second skin on me. I supposed Carl enjoyed it, as it didn't leave any "doubts" either about me now! "Outlining" my breasts, belly, and jutting behind as it did whenever I stood. "She should bear the caste mark," Paula said, looking at me. "At one time there was civilian command of the military," I smiled to her, drawing upon my awesome knowledge of such things. It being held by the dominant martial castes that such was a mis- take, that nations should be governed by those who fight for them and not by those who stay home and make money while others die... This being based upon a "comment" that Janet Rogers used to make, her writings and own philosophy being of course well known here. Janet having "founded" the Warrior and Warrioress castes in 2012. Limiting the right to "vote" to those who had served the country. "A `mistake' we have not repeated," Carl smiled in reply, my sister nodding, her dark eyes glowing into mine as she understood the implications of this. I knew of no nation in this time that was governed by someone NOT of the Warriors or the Warrioresses. Paula was a Warrioress, Darlanis was a Warrioress, Tara "was" of the Warrioresses even if she "violated" the caste codes at times, Dala of Talon was a Warrioress, as was Tulis of Dularn, it being noteworthy that every country here in North America was governed by a woman, a woman who wore the "black" of the Warrioress caste. Dularn and Talon being "Queendoms", where only a woman may rule. "History has taught us the folly of such ideas," Paula said. It hadn't been something I should have said, but I was annoyed at the "attitude" so many of the martial castes had that no one else really "counted", that the rest of us existed just for them here! Paula having even said something to that effect after a battle as she walked among the fallen holding her gown drawn up a bit here. That those who had fallen had been "splendid"; her whole attitude one of a "superior being" more worthy than those who had fallen. "And Sanda, if you were truly now of the Scribes you would not be `what' you are," Paula continued, sipping at her wine, her slave girl at her side. It being my sister's opinion that I should see the Priestesses of Lys and work out this "attitude" I had towards being a Warrioress. Accept the caste mark, and take my "proper" place in society. She had said so many times before, ever since I'd graduated from the Academy in 2540 and then refused to accept the mark of the "sword". In private she was known to say that I was "nuts", not "right"; "comments" that had cut me to the quick. "All that `history' has shown us is that any group who lords it over everyone else eventually comes to `believe' that they are the rightful masters of Mankind and that all the rest of us exist only to serve them," I answered her back. "Just as a time exist- ed when it was believed that a white skin and blond hair made you a superior being to everyone else," I continued, aware that there were a lot of people who still believed that; the "ideal woman" still being tall, blonde, and white skinned, as many Dularnians were, as nearly all Lorr Servitors were for that matter, I knew. "Never argue with a Scribe," Paula smiled to Carl, her eyes, as dark as mine, glittering into my own, the precious jewels of her crown sparkling in the lamp light as she moved her head, the gold of the crown itself a contrast to the darkness of her hair. Like her counterpart Darlanis of Sarn she was a striking beauty, a woman who met the ideal of beauty that most men have of Queens. "I think Sanda clearly sees things we do not," Carl replied. "That the nature of warfare as we have known it has changed now." "Darlanis is not `conquering' Trelandar, she is taking po- litical control of it," I added, aware of what had been happening here. Of how Darlanis was even now setting up her own government in the portions of Trelandar that she now occupied. Breaking our country up into gigantic "estates" covering hundreds of square miles, setting up Imperial Lords and Ladies to govern the people. The thought going through my mind that I needed to penetrate in on further, go further north, and start striking at these people! Become a "terrorist" in reality instead of just one in name now!! "We need to outflank her, move our forces through the lower pass- es of the Sierras, and attack her rear, perhaps even attack Sarn if it is possible. Force her to fight us on our own terms now." "We are fighting a `defensive war', and `losing it'," Carl said, giving me a smile. "And Sanda seems to be the only one who offers us any hope of a victory over Darlanis," he said to Paula. The hard glitter in Paula's eyes indicating she didn't like this. Being upstaged by her "kid sister" like this, this sister of hers who refused to become a Warrioress, who had "shamed" our family! "We will eventually wear Darlanis down, defeat her," Paula answered, her voice icy cold. She had "humored" me by giving me permission to do what I wished, pitiful resources to carry out my mission, and my surprising success here no doubt embarrassed her! "I see no reason to change our military tactics now," I heard her say, aware that by her stubborness she'd doomed our own country!! (later) "You're as `good' as I'd hoped you'd be," Carl said to me as we laid together, the footfalls of guards patrolling the camp at times coming to my ears as I laid there beside him. A fingertip at the moment gently teasing my yet erected nipples, he having in his use of me given me much pleasure, more than Taime ever did... I had badly needed to be held, used after our dinner with Paula. Carl having been shown by Paula's own words "why" we were losing! That it was her own pride, her dislike of me, that caused it all! "We'll find a Priestess tomorrow, and you can chain me," I said, half rolling over to face him. My neck chain would mark me as married, as a wife, his wife, as Mrs. Carl Talen, although it was the practice now for the woman to use her own first name now. With this war going on, I saw no reason to wait. We worked well together, we respected each other, and I knew that he loved me. "Mrs. Sanda Talen," he grinned, reaching down, touching me. "You've had me twice already, and we need to sleep," I said, teasing him, using my own hand to caress, my body yet still wet. (the next day) "You may now fix the chain about Sanda's throat," the white gowned Priestess spoke, holding up her ankh there before her now here in this little village temple that everyone had gathered at. "And let not either man or woman put asunder what Lys has brought together..." she concluded, giving us both a warm smile. We had ridden into the nearby village, where Carl had purchased for me a lovely silver neck chain that would well serve to "mark" me here. My husband then doing so, while my sister stood with her Warrioresses. Pushing the locking rivet into place, and locking it with a tool. Marking me well as his wife, and legally as his "property" here, a bit of tradition speaking of a time now past when men actually did "own" their women much as they do a slave.* * This was during the first century or so after The War. (Sanda) "Ride south, `enjoy' yourselves," Paula said, giving Carl a smile as she put a small leather bag into his hand. The "clink" of the coins inside it leaving no doubts as to her gift here now. My fingertips reaching up of their own volition to touch the sil- ver links that circled my throat, marking me well as being "his". ***************************************************************** "This is `hard' for me," I spoke to Jon Richards as he re- viewed what I'd marked, the changes that I wished to have made... My old eyes moist with tears as I looked into his. Carl had been dead for fifty six years now, having died in the rescue of Darla- nis from the pirates in 2565, leaving me a widow, driving from my heart the joy I'd felt at the knowledge that Trelandar was FREE!! Reading all this I'd written so long ago bringing back memories I had buried deep in a recess of my mind I'd forgotten all about... "You were a `Warlady', just as `she' was," Jon answered, now standing up and going to the window. Looking out at "her" grave. The last resting place of the Queen of Trelandar, a Warlady whose name now was a legend on two worlds. Lorraine Richards, who had been born Lorraine Duclare in France in 1949, who had died in the year 2621, who had founded civilizations, everything we now knew. "I was just a woman good at guerrilla warfare," I said, now getting up, going to him, being "there" for him now in his loss. "I never was the fighter that she was," I added, seeing him nod. Slipping off the reading glasses that I used now for close work. "We have twenty seven years," he answered, looking at me. "I can never be to you what `she' was," I warned Jon then. "You're still a good looking woman," Jon said, regarding me. "I'm over a hundred, and I have gray in my hair," I replied. "You could be a `comfort' to an old man..." Jon said to me. He didn't look that "old", I mused privately to myself just now. Jon being a couple years "older" than me, an hundred and three... "We'll be `together' when the `end' comes," I said softly to him, moving into his arms, my lips seeking his as we then kissed. |
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