Tenacious, Exile of the Legion Pt. 02

Battling savages

This is a science fiction novel. It has followed Quinten Tyshan from his early years as a war orphan, his service in the Roman Legion, and his life in exile on the primitive planet of Ballor 3,000 years in the future. There have been bloodthirsty battles and dramatic moments as this dedicated soldier seeks to uphold the Edicts of Minerva. It is not a heavily erotic story, though there are erotic elements and romance in the later chapters. This is part 2 of 6.

Here, we find Tenacious, calling himself Tenay, exiled on a barbarian planet discovering it's inhabited by colonies of other space crash survivors. After rescuing a young woman in the forest from vicious ape-like savages, he returned with her to a village, unhappy to learn the gods are not being respected.

* * * * * *

Chapter 4, part 2

I woke up late the next morning in the guest quarters, having slept in a feather bed for the first time in memory. Nora lay next to me. We had not mingled. I had not even undressed. My sword rested nearby. There was a great deal of noise outside.

"I'm hungry," Nora said.

"What is that commotion in the courtyard?" I asked. She looked out the window.

"It's a community gathering. They debate, yell at each other, and then they take a vote."

"Stone Point is a democracy?" I said with disapproval.

"I suppose you could call it that. If peasants could decide how anything should properly be done."

"You are quite the snob, aren't you?" I said.

"Do you disagree?"

"No. But I'm not an elitist. I just like things organized."

The meeting went on all day, and for many, it was unpleasant. The women finally gave vent to their frustrations, haranguing the men for their arrogance. The oldest of them, sixty-year-old Farkara, repeatedly quoted ancient traditions. The women looked in my direction often, being assured of their right to speak. I watched from a rocking chair on a porch while sipping cinnamon tea. Nora remained at my side, declining to participate.

"It is decided," Burry said, coming over to me. "The old ways are restored. Stone Point pledges to obey the gods."

I did not question his word, which he appreciated. I rose to shake hands.

"I predict this village will find many blessings," I said with a large audience listening.

"You are devoted to Minerva?" Burry asked.

"I am, though I would not dismiss the other gods," I answered.

Just before sunset, I climbed up a sturdy ladder into the watch tower overlooking the main gate. The farmers and ranchers were coming back inside the fort with their stock. Meats were roasted. A celebration was planned, the entire population of 400 men, women, and children feeling new energy. Nora crawled up the ladder to join me.

"You are lost in thought," she said, producing a bottle of apple wine.

"It's been a long time since I planned anything but the next day."

"What are you planning now?"

"It's what others are planning. I'll need an answer for them. As I need an answer from you."

"You could have taken me in the guest cottage," she replied. "I would not have said no."

"I don't want you. And you don't want me. You are in love with Jomar."

"I? In love with that barbarian? No. Never," she pouted.

"Work it out your own way. If you want to leave Stone Point, pack a bag. I'll be going in the morning."

"So soon?"

"Yes, and once we cross the river, there will be no turning back. Say your farewells."

Nora remained quiet for a long time, and abruptly departed. She would not be leaving Stone Point in the morning. I doubted I'd be leaving either.

I spent a quiet evening alone in the guest quarters. It had a private bath, with plumbing, and a mirror. I was 24 years old now, my sandy brown hair grown long. The blue-gray eyes were watchful, showing the wariness of a warrior. Living alone on the frontier for a year had left me in splendid condition, ready for anything. I reflected on my career in the Legion, and the sacrifices of my brothers-gone-before. Though in exile forever for killing my commanding officer, it would not stop me from fulfilling my duty to Minerva, for I had taken an oath.

After breakfast, I was found near the horse corral. They only had a few, all trained for pulling wagons or a plow. They were hardy creatures, high in the shoulder, with long necks, thick snouts, and swishing tails. Colors ranged from light brown to black, the fetlocks mostly red.

"Where did you find them?" I asked when Burry and Jomar approached.

"There are thousands of horses on the plains to the north," Timber said. "But we have limited space in the fort to protect them, so we only acquire a few at a time."

"I would like a horse. My family raised horses," I remembered.

"We would speak with you. A horse may be part of it," Burry offered.

"You would like me to train a militia and sweep the savages from your lands," I said.

"How did you know?" Jomar asked in surprise.

"It's nothing I haven't thought of myself."

"You are willing?" Burry pressed.

"With conditions," I replied.

"Do you wish to be king?" Jomar asked.

"I desire no such power," I answered. As Jomar suspected I would. "I alone will determine the training and command structure. There will be no favorites. No preferences for family. All will be based on ability."

"We understand," Burry replied. Though being an elder of long experience, I'm sure he was already developing strategies of his own.

"I'll want to borrow a horse, return to my burrow at Deep Creek, and retrieve my supplies," I said. "It will only take a few days."

"You should have help. I'll go with you," Jomar said.

"That would be welcome, though I don't need a babysitter."

"The horse might, if savages attack," Jomar warned. "It's best to have a sentry."

"You have a wife to placate," I teased.

"I love her with my life, which you appear to have learned," Jomar said.

"I'm still a bachelor. I know nothing of such things," I answered with a smile.

"I will go with Tenay," 18-year-old Frendar announced. The tall skinny lad looked nervous.

"You?" Burry doubted. "After Tenay humiliated you before the entire village?"

"I have had a long night studying the scrolls," Frendar explained. "I've been a child. A foolish, arrogant child. Now I must be a man. Tenay, I beg you to take me into your service. You need a servant."

"I do not need a servant, youngster. I need an aide-de-camp," I replied. "Are you applying for the job?"

"What is an aide-de-camp?" he asked.

"It's a junior officer who takes on every task his commander has no time for," I explained. "It's hard work, frustrating, and thankless."

"I am applying for the privilege," Frendar answered.

It was not just Frendar and I who returned to Deep Creek. Jomar, Nora, Timber, his wife Essy, and five others joined us, anxious to see the mysterious forests south of the Great Mother River. We brought three horses to carry supplies and walked at a steady pace, cautious but unafraid.

"This is good land, but it would take years to civilize," Essy said, a slim young blonde with a graceful gait.

"Some land is best left alone," I responded, having seen enough cities for one lifetime.

"We should find a pond to camp near. I want to bathe," Nora said in a sultry voice just loud enough for Jomar to hear.

"You will put Diana to shame," I confirmed.

Jomar heard that, too.

Nora and I spent a lot of time together on the journey. She had been a 19-year-old trade assistant when their pilot, foolishly skirting the Airion Star Road, had been surprised by the Kiki Wormhole. Taken prisoner after her ship crashed, difficult years as a farmhand followed. Now she was twenty-three, Jomar's wife for the last year. I enjoyed speaking with an educated woman who knew more about many things than I did. I did not watch her bathe.

It felt strange to return to my burrow knowing I'd no longer live there. The villagers were impressed that I dwelled in relative prosperity. I gathered weapons, my fur bedroll, clothes, and tools. My Medal of Valor was tucked in its presentation case, good for impressing women. The furniture was left behind. After securing the door, we visited Château d'If, scavenging electronics.

"It's not a large craft, is it?" Jomar observed.

"Large enough for courier service," I explained. "What happened to your ship?"

"Our people lived in the shell for a time, but it was too far from the river," Jomar replied. "Much was dismantled. Before I was born, what remained caught fire and burned."

"My diplomatic transport crashed in a lake," Nora recalled. "Only two of us got out before it sank."

"May we salvage more of your ship?" Timber requested. "Much of this technology is better than ours. The generator has a century battery."

"You'll need a wagon, and there are no roads," I warned.

"We'll find a way. We always do," Timber replied.

The return trail was pleasant. The villagers were warming up to me, and I was growing fond of them. They tended to be cheerful, enjoyed drinking and dancing, and didn't take foolish chances. Frendar was true to his word, helping with every aspect of the journey. We did not encounter savages, though we did pass the rotting corpses of the ones slain ten days before, now picked apart by vultures.

"You slew all of these? By yourself?" Cyntia asked, the only unmated woman on our trek. She was barely nineteen, tall and leggy, with long golden hair and a red headband.

"They were taunting Nora, which allowed me to take them by surprise," I explained.

"I see now why the elders wish your service," Cyntia said. "We have not had such good fortune against these creatures. You should demand many rewards."

I noticed the subtle glint in her expression, the offered reward being obvious.

By the time we returned to the Great Mother River, Jomar stopped being jealous, much to Nora's annoyance. He finally saw through her game. Perhaps they would settle down, for the bond between them was clear to all.

Though it was late in the day, Jomar refused to camp on the south side of the river. From what I learned, all of the valley settlements lay on the north bank. No one wanted to say why. I supposed the river acted as a barrier against the savages, and perhaps other enemies. And then I was astonished.

"A steamship?" I blurted, seeing the large vessel chugging upstream.

Made of wood and painted white, two tall smokestacks belched trailing streams of gray smoke. A giant paddlewheel mounted on the stern pushed it along. I supposed the ship capable of carrying a hundred passengers with livestock and cargo.

"You've not seen such?" Frendar asked.

"Tenay has seen them," Nora answered. "He has visited many civilized worlds."

"Have you?" Frendar said.

"It's true. Though most river ships use hydrogen engines," I said. "I've only seen steamships in heritage centers."

"Four of them service the communities," Jomar explained. "We share use of this one with Sandy Beach and Fort Royal. We call it the Far West because it goes all the way down to the rapids."

He walked to the beach waving a yellow bandanna. The steamer moved to our side of the river, dropping a heavy plank.

"At least we won't get wet," Nora said, running up the ramp first.

* * * * * *

The summer did not seem as hot near the river as Deep Creek, and was often foggy in the mornings. I was granted a private lodge near the watchtower and wasted no time installing myself. My dress uniform hung in the closet, along with my battle armor, heavy boots, and trail equipment. I had brought a chest with my personal papers, my reader, and several solar batteries. Many were impressed by my weapons, the finest the 5th Legion could supply. I treasured the fine presentation sword my old patron Vitellius Dracicus had given me after holding the breach at Kertan. The day the cohort had named me Tenacious.

I wasn't going to transform an agrarian society in one season, nor did I want to. Centurion Vallus had taught me the wisdom of patience. Life as a scout taught me to learn the lay of the land. With the edicts of Minerva now respected, there was a noticeable change in mood. The women appeared more relaxed. Most of the men didn't care about the changes, and the few who did grudgingly accepted them.

On the sixth day of my residence, just as the livestock was being rounded up for the night, a scream arose from a shepherd. Three savages had burst from the undergrowth near her sheep, grabbing a lamb. Marsus yelled for help, though the men were too far away. As the savages already knew. After seizing the lamb, another savage made a move toward her 3-year-old daughter. Marsus bravely struck at the beast with her staff despite the danger.

The creature never reached either of them. I emerged from the blind I'd woven in the underbrush, sword ready, and took the savage's arm off before removing its head. The other savage came forward to defend its fallen mate, claws outstretched with fangs bared. I ducked its first swipe, sidestepped a second, and then ran my sword through its chest with an underhand thrust. As a species adapted to agile movements, the lower ribs tended to be thin.

The surviving savage retreated into the brush, but wouldn't get far carrying the bleating lamb, and they were too greedy to abandon their prey. As I had observed. The chase took several minutes, dodging trees, jumping boulders, and scrambling through weeds. In a clearing up ahead, I saw three more savages waiting. They liked to work in packs. As I was alone, they foolishly took no alarm.

Marsus gathered the lamb from me on my return, finding several deep scratches but otherwise unharmed. I had scrapes on my knees, my pants torn. Dozens of villagers had gathered carrying axes, shovels, and a few spears.

"How do you fare, Tenay?" Jomar asked, surprised to see me alive.

"Better than they," I replied, tossing a string of four savage heads to his feet.

"By the gods," Burry exclaimed, jumping back.

The women jumped back, too. Though I saw in their expressions that I'd have company that night if I wanted it.

"Mount them on poles around the perimeter of the animal pens," I advised. "I'll track more down over the next few days. By the end of summer, you'll have much less trouble from these predators."

* * * * * *

A riverboat docked at Stone Point with eminent passengers onboard. It was early fall, and the summer had been prosperous. With the savages retreating from the surrounding forests, plans were laid to expand the ranches and farms. Word was spreading along the river.

"I am Uric Stalling, Governor of Middle Town. We ask for your help," a distinguished leader requested, speaking for the entire delegation. He wore a dark wool suit with white leggings and black leather shoes. The half dozen emissaries with him were equally formal. I generally put them in their late-40s and 50s.

I greeted them in the courtyard wearing my best khaki uniform, reminiscent of the 5th Legion. Behind me, twenty young men and women in leather armor, armed with shields and spears, stood at attention. Stone Point's militia made a strong impression, even if they needed more training.

"Burry has approached me with your concerns," I said. "I'm sorry that duties here have prevented me from visiting your colonies."

"As the winter approaches, the savages recede," Stalling said. "Our boats will continue to ply the river when there isn't too much ice. We invite you to a council."

"I hear favorable things about your towns, though some do not honor the gods as they should. Will this be a problem?" I asked.

"Many of our peoples came from Imperial worlds before being stranded on this godforsaken planet," Stalling answered. "Others come from independent worlds. Not all follow your gods, or are even familiar with them."

"I would not ask any to change their religion for my help," I said, having thought much on the subject. "But there are principles that must be obeyed. If your people promise to listen, I would be pleased to attend your council."

They were relieved at this. It wasn't that each town couldn't raise a militia. Several had. Developing an effective fighting force was a different matter.

I had another, more private reason for wishing to visit the other colonies. I'd not had female company in my furs for several years, not since occupying Botis Minor with the 11th Legion. In a small community such as Stone Point, taking a woman to bed created much gossip and expectations, and I wasn't looking for a wife.

* * * * * *

Going downstream on the steamship Comet was an interesting experience. It carried hides, barley, wheat, and wool. Of the settlements along the river, Stone Point was among the more eastern villages. Farther east was another even smaller village, Bone Beach, and then a confluence of the Great Mother and Little Mother rivers. Beyond were tall mountain ranges, lands inhabited by remote outposts, miners, hunters, and strangely, mysterious tribes of women. No one wished to speak of them.

To the west, the towns were larger. Several made tools, manufactured clothing, and assembled electrical components. They were competitive but largely peaceful. With desert raiders in the south, barbarian horseman to the north, and savages throughout the spring and summer, internal conflicts were a luxury they could not afford.

The towns did manage to stay in contact with each other. Without orbital satellites, radio communications were limited to the range of their antenna towers, but messages could be relayed. The steamships and keelboats carried mail and newsletters. Intermarriage was not unknown, providing bonds of kinship.

I guessed Middle Town's population at three thousand. Farms, ranches, small factories, a meeting hall, and several taverns. There was only one temple, dedicated to Tiberinus, the protector of rivers. I wanted to visit the taverns first. A fascinating sight caught my attention.

"Yours?" I asked, seeing a fair-sized cargo transport parked at the end of town. The vintage ship had landed intact on four heavy struts, and though very old, seemed in good condition. A sloping ramp led into a glistening silver hull. I guessed they were using the cargo bay for a warehouse. Burned out engine housings showed it would never fly again.

"The savior of my people," Uric Stalling boasted. "Starwatcher brought our ancestors through a storm to this place of sanctuary. The Founders had tools, generators, shelters, and everything they needed to start a new life."

"They were fortunate," I remarked, for I'd heard that few of the other marooned ships were so blessed.

A committee of elders approached. There were forty in all. Well-dressed in formal robes. A large assembly gathered to watch, including many children.

"This is Tenay, slayer of savages, a soldier of the Imperial Legion," Jomar introduced.

"I am retired from the Legion," I corrected, standing erect with my sword and leather armor. My shirt sleeves were rolled up, letting all see the taloned eagle tattoo. The Medal of Valor hung around my neck on a silver ribbon.

"You have given Stone Point a trained militia," Stalling said.

"The beginning of a trained militia," I replied.

"We hear the savages no longer threaten Stone Point," Indiana said, a graceful gray-haired woman wearing a heavy gold chain.

"They are driven back, for now," I conceded. "It will take time to drive them from the river valley completely."

"You believe this can be done?" Indiana said with surprise.

"That depends on your people, doesn't it?" I responded.

"We welcome you, visitor. Leaders have gathered from a dozen towns," Kalator said. He was chief of Sandy Beach, a trading post far to the west.

The council proved a tiresome affair. The senior leaders sat around a table while aides scurried behind the scenes. Though I had studied at the feet of great leaders, I'd not taken much interest in governance. It's one thing to form a defensive line against determined foes. Negotiating with crafty politicians was beyond my experience.

"Tenay, you speak little," Stalling remarked.

"I am a soldier, my lord. You speak of borders, spheres of influence, and trade," I replied. "My patron, Vitellius Dracicus, was well-versed in such matters. I am well-versed in killing enemies."

That gave them pause. The ships that had crashed upon Ballor over the decades held traders, colonists, and a few smugglers. None had carried professional military.

"Have you visited many of our settlements?" Dr. Jaspolea Salazar asked, a charming woman only a year or two older than me. She had long silky black hair, deep blue eyes, and a gracious smile. I wondered if she was married.

"Only the two eastern ones, my lady," I answered.

"They are small. What did you think of their defenses?" Kalator inquired.

"Inadequate," I answered.

Several laughed. It was an understatement.

"When the smaller settlements find trouble, they call for help, but we often arrive too late," Jaspolea said. "My medical wagon can be loaded on a ship, but it still takes hours or days to make the voyage."

"More horses and better trails can provide a rapid response force," I said. "Depots would assist supply distribution. Have you any motorized vehicles?"

"We have a truck, but the solar battery is weak," Indiana said. "Oakdale has two trucks, but their batteries have trouble, too. The only hydrogen recharger is at Big Bend, and they use the fuel for their generators. They have little surplus."

"Have you considered using oil?" I asked.

"Oil?" Kalator said.

"Oil can be refined into fuel. It doesn't burn clean, but it's easier to produce than hydrogen," I explained. "There is a tar pit near my old base at Deep Creek where oil seeps to the surface."

"We will explore this," Kalator agreed. "But even with trucks, there are few roads. Only trails that are often rough."

"That is a question for another day," I decided. "Now that we understand the logistics, what is it you want of me?"

"We wish the savages destroyed," Indiana said.

"And once the savages are gone, the risk of marauders will increase," Stalling added. "We need to be prepared."

"Do your people know the difference between a town guard and a militia? Do they know the difference between a militia and a professional army?" I pressed.

"Each of our worlds had armies, though we've only read of them," Jaspolea said.

"We realize books are different than practical knowledge. In this we ask your help," Stalling urged.

"And you will be rewarded," Jaspolea said, leaning forward. I wondered exactly what sort of reward was being suggested, my hopes running high. Nothing in her demeanor was discouraging.

"Forming an army is a difficult endeavor," I said. "It requires discipline, obedience, and perseverance. Early excitement will turn into tedious drills. Complaining. Even desertion, which may never be tolerated. The penalties for violating military law are severe. Sometimes death. Discover if your people have the fortitude for such a task and then ask me again."

"And in exchange, the savages will be destroyed?" Kalator asked.

"The savages will be driven from your lands," I replied. "On this, you have my oath."

I stood up, bowed in my most respectful manner, and went looking for a tavern.

* * * * * *

The Ballorian Rangers were divided into three divisions of a hundred men and women each. The Western Division was stationed at Oakdale near The Rapids, the Central Division at Middle Town, and the Eastern Division at Stone Point. Depots would be built, roads cut through the forest, and horses captured from the north.

"Production for the next year will focus on swords, spears, shields, arrows, and saddles," I instructed. "The officers will spend six weeks in training with me as ordinary recruits, then I will spend eight weeks drilling each division with the officers. Once a month, the entire cohort will engage in field exercises. I will teach you how to track and defeat the savages."

"This will put great strain on our resources," Kalator warned.

"The next four years will be difficult," I agreed. "Once the savages are gone, you'll be able to raise more livestock. Plant more acres. Cut more timber. Expand new settlements. These are rich lands for those willing to do the work."

"We are willing," Jomar said.

"I know you are," I replied.

* * * * * *

Chapter Five

The Desert Fight

None of the river people understood how difficult the training would be, and it didn't make me popular. The winter was spent in drill despite the rain and occasional snow. Units were formed in squads of twelve, and in the spring, sufficient horses gathered to have the army mounted. Feeding, grooming, and training hundreds of horses weighed heavily on the settlements, not to mention building corrals, barns, and stables, but that couldn't be helped. Without transport, we weren't going to cover the ground we needed.

There was a logistical problem I'd not encountered with the Legion. Our planners always had maps. Satellite reconnaissance. Established roads between forts and cities. On Ballor, all I had were sketches and stories. The Great Mother River was the only highway. Lands far to the north and south were largely uncharted. The wide river began in the mountains to the east. Nine hundred kilometers to the west, it emptied into a grand canyon filled with unnavigable rapids. Peaks surrounding the canyon were so steep that few tried to cross them. There were rumors of an ocean beyond the rapids, though no one I met had ever seen it.

In the final week before spring, a war council was called at Middle Town, Uric Stalling acting as chairman. The meeting hall held two hundred town leaders, militia officers, teamsters, doctors, veterinarians, and scores of auxiliaries. Excellent food was served. A band played music. Acting as my aide-de-camp, Frendar printed schedules in galactic standard.

"This is what we've learned," I said, standing at a podium before a huge map. "We never find infant savages among their groups. Like many species, they breed on their home ground and then migrate along established routes. This appears to happen in cycles, but we don't know what those cycles are. Their breeding grounds appear to be in the Blue Mountains."

"Their numbers must be very large, aren't they?" Jaspolea asked. It was a pre-planned question.

"Yes, doctor," I answered. "But we will not campaign there. We will begin in the west, near Rapids Lake. The plan is to identify the burrows where they hibernate and mark their trails. We will move east methodically, leaving none of the savages in our rear until reaching the junction of the Great Mother and Little Mother rivers, where we will build a fort to block future migrations."

"That is hundreds of miles!" the leader of Sandy Beach protested. An unplanned question, though not unexpected.

"I believe the savages stay within forty miles of the river, along the brooks and creeks," I explained, waving my pointer at the map. "They won't be found in the southern desert or northern plains. The entire army will be in the field through the spring and summer. In four years, the valley will be cleared of these enemies."

"And this will work?" Jomar asked.

"I was a soldier of the Empire. I studied in Rome under masters of the military arts," I replied. "There is no magic to it. No great mysteries. Only persistence and the diligence of dedicated soldiers. Do we have that? Are you prepared to do what's necessary?"

"We are," Stalling said, speaking for all. "Everyone here has lost family and friends to these creatures. We will pay any price to be free of them."

Jomar stood up, making sure he had everyone's attention.

"I've seen Tenay battle the savages," he announced. "He is the leader we've needed these many years. Stone Point stands with him."

The entire room rose in agreement. Centurion Vallus had said many times that desperate times call for desperate measures, and I was their desperate measure.

"Comrades and fathers, let me say I'm proud you've given me this assignment," I responded. "I will ask no more from you than necessary. But what I do ask, I will expect. There will be no compromises."

That night, Jaspolea and I enjoyed furs in her quarters. Many women in the towns sought my attention, and occasionally I obliged them, but it was Jaspolea who held my affection. Attractive, intelligent, witty, and a good soul. Among many things, we shared an interest in medicinal plants. She was always good company, and I tended to be good company in her presence.

"It's good to see you again, Quinten," she said, stripping off her dress and climbing into bed. She had a wonderful body, firm breasts, and womanly hips. She had been married once, for a few months, but the groom could not accept her dedication to her career. That was never a problem with me.

"I've missed you," I replied, taking her in my arms.

"Are you getting tired of the tavern girls?" she asked with a smirk.

"They are young, and pretty, and enthusiastic," I responded. "But I'm not a kid anymore. Sometimes a man wants more than release."

We wasted no time, for both of us were busy professionals with needs to satisfy. That didn't stop us from being creative.

"After this war is over, what are your plans?" she asked later as we sat before the fire sipping wine.

"Plans for what?" I said.

"Once the valley is cleared of savages, what will you do?"

"I don't understand," I replied.

"What are your hopes? Your dreams?"

"My what?"

Jaspolea laughed and snuggled closer. "My dream is to build a hospital," she said. "One large enough for the entire valley. I will help children. Cure diseases. Injuries that are fatal now will be properly treated. There will be a school to train new doctors and nurses. What is your dream?"

"No one has ever asked me that before," I answered.

"What would you say if they did?"

"I don't know. My life was serving the Legion. It always had been."

"Once the savages are gone, the militias will disband. The valley will only need a few rangers to maintain order. You won't be happy commanding a police force."

"No, I won't."

"You may wish to expand your horizons," Jaspolea suggested. "Despite your country boy façade, you have a fine education. You read people well. Though ruthless in the field, you are kind to children. A protector of women. More are fond of you than you know."

"Are you proposing?" I asked.

"My dreams don't include a husband, but you should find a wife. A young woman. Unjaded. Seeking a life of adventure. It's what you need."

* * * * * *

Two years after the formation of the army, I visited Sandy Beach, a thriving village downriver from the middle settlements. Our campaigns were proving successful, though maintaining cooperation wasn't easy. Once an area was cleared, the locals tended to lose interest in their obligations. Reminders were necessary. I wanted my own riverboat dedicated to military use but there weren't enough resources. Which was just as well. I spent most of my time on a horse when not waiting out the cold winters.

North of the river, beyond the forests, was a vast prairie filled with horses, deer, antelope, and bison. I had even seen prides of lions. Several primitive clans lived in the foothills, more bandit than neighbors. Their grain freighter had struck a mountain on landing fifty years before and broken up, leaving little in the way of technology for the survivors.

To the southwest were wastelands inhabited by a nomadic tribe. Like the northern frontier, they also lacked technology, and what culture they had was not kindly spoken of. None seemed to know much of their origins.

Geography beyond the river communities had little to do with army operations. The first year, we cleared the forests from the Rapids to Sandy Beach, burning out savage nesting grounds. We suffered twelve dead in this campaign, including a squad of six who were ambushed and wiped out. The savages were not sophisticated, but they were crafty. Underestimating them could prove fatal. Forty soldiers received injuries in this campaign, with six unable to return to duty. As many as a hundred savages were slain.

In the second year, more experienced and better supplied, the lands from Sandy Beach to Middle Town were secured. When pods of savages were discovered, we would advance on foot in closed shield formations. The army suffered no dead and only ten wounded. Several hundred savages fell to our swords. The third season would secure the towns as far as Stone Point, and one more would finish the army's work. Or so I hoped. Towns left behind the lines were not always prompt at meeting their quotas.

I was not a politician, being somewhat blunt and disinclined to prevarication, but there were politics to consider. During the winter months, I made a point of visiting the river villages to ensure their continued support. It had even been suggested by Uric Stalling that a permanent federation be formed. A proposal I endorsed.

One story got around that gave stubborn townspeople pause. There was a smaller community that had greatly benefited from the army's efforts, but now declined tribute. When negotiations came to nothing, I set fire to their community center. It spread to several other buildings, which was not my problem. But I did not burn down the entire town. That was an exaggeration.

Sandy Beach was a village largely surrounded by wetlands, and strangely, faced a desert on the other side of the river. I put the population at fifteen hundred. There was a small dock where they maintained a ferry, for salt deposits lay just a half day's journey to the south. This was good for their trade, but also dangerous, for the salt trail was subject to raiders. It wasn't any of the army's affair, so I gave it little thought until an incident occurred that could not be ignored.

"Help us. For the sake of the gods, help us," a beleaguered tradesman said, wandering into the village on a cold afternoon.

"Kenner, what has happened?" Chief Posta asked, a wise old man good at avoiding trouble.

Scores of villagers gathered around. Kenner and three of his comrades staggered into town pulling a string of six mules. They were given places at Posta's fire and served tea.

"My caravan was attacked. We were granted safe passage, and yet attacked anyway," the distraught man said. "My brother is dead, and we barely escaped. My daughter Sara is kidnapped. Melani and Antara are kidnapped."

"On the river trail?" Chief Posta asked.

"No, on the Salt Trail," Kenner replied.

"Across the river? Why did you take women with you on the Salt Trail? Are you stupid?" Posta criticized.

"The Majara granted us safe passage," Kenner repeated.

"The desert scum don't respect their promises, and no young woman is ever safe," Posta reprimanded. "What do you expect of us?"

"Help me get the girls back," Kenner urged.

"Impossible," Posta replied. "They are gone. Merchandise for their slave markets. Reconcile yourself."

"No, I cannot accept that. We still have our goods," Kenner said. "Fine wines. Ribbon. Gold chains. I can trade for them."

"Perhaps, but the price will be high," Posta speculated. "And they won't return all the girls. They never do. One, maybe. If they don't cut your throats."

"I must do something. How can I return home without Sara?" Kenner pleaded.

"Disgrace is better than death," Posta advised. His fellow villagers appeared to feel the same.

"Who is this stranger?" Kenner asked.

"This is Tenay," Posta introduced.

"Commander Tenay? Can the army be brought here? To save my girls?" Kenner said.

"The army is camped near the middle villages," Posta replied. "It would take weeks to bring them here."

"Sir, may you not do something?" Kenner begged.

"You are a deacon of Delesia, are you not?" I inquired.

"Yes, I sit on the high council," Kenner replied.

"Delesia owes the army fifty saddles, one hundred sets of tack, and two hundred pairs of riding boots. You've owed them since last spring," I lectured. "Why should the army help you now?"

"The saddles will be delivered, and anything else you need. By the gods, I swear it," Kenner promised.

"Three young women have been taken? Against their will?" I asked.

"Brutally taken, as they begged for mercy," Kenner assured.

"And you hope to negotiate their release?" I questioned.

"Yes," Kenner answered.

"I will go with you," I agreed.

"And bring your army?" Kenner hoped.

"No. As Chief Posta says, the army is preparing for spring operations. They cannot be distracted. I will meet with these desert men and speak on your behalf."

"What can you do? By yourself?" Kenner questioned.

"I won't know that until we have a conversation," I replied.

Kenner's caravan needed refitting. I took the evening to prepare, for my gear was stowed away on the riverboat. When on water, I did not travel light, happy to show off my weapons and armor. Germanicus, my favorite riding horse, had his own stall on the forward deck. We ferried across the wide river to the southern bank the next morning.

"How many of these raiders are there?" I inquired.

"Ten or eleven, that we saw," Kenner's partner said, a slender middle-aged man named Parneseum. We were mounted on good horses with six pack mules trailing behind us. I left Germanicus behind. He was not a warhorse.

The landscape was no different than a dozen worlds where I had fought. Dry, scrubby, occasional trees, and a lot of sand. By late afternoon, we reached an oasis, pitching Kenner's pavilion on top of a hill. Below us were half a dozen canvas tents set among palm trees surrounding a modest lake. The bandits had seen our arrival, ten men and two women. I did not see the three captives. Likely hidden in one of the shelters.

"That is Bofis, their leader," Parneseum said, pointing to a large, stocky fellow. They wore long black robes for the cold weather. I had my brown army uniform with a wool coat. Camouflage khakis were in my saddlebags.

"They come," Kenner said, standing at the flap of his tent. He was unarmed. I had a sword on my belt, and a knife behind my back.

It was better than three hundred yards from the Majara camp to our tent, giving me time to study the opposition. They strutted with confidence. Two carried swords, the third held a spear. The others stayed behind.

"What have you brought us, cowards?" their leader said, stopping a few feet away. It was gruff galactic standard with a harsh accent.

"We want our girls back," Kenner said.

"You wouldn't fight for them before. Will you fight for them now?" Bofis asked.

"My brother died fighting you," Kenner replied.

"One against us all, while you ran," Bofis said with a smirk.

"We are not warriors," Kenner protested.

"Then you have no place in the desert. Give us your goods and we will let you live."

"We will trade," Kenner said.

"We have no need to trade," Bofis countered.

"Does it hurt to talk?" I asked, butting in.

"Who are you?" Bofis inquired.

"We may discuss that. Enter the tent and sit. Kenner has brought wine, or tea if you prefer," I invited.

Bofis was surprised by such an offer, and accepted. Two entered. The spear carrier stood guard. We sat on pillows in a circle, the desert men sizing me up. Though I doubt they had much of a clue. I looked fairly athletic, with broad shoulders, but did not appear aggressive.

"We would not lose the salt trade entirely," Bofis confessed. "Give us your goods, and we'll return one girl. But only one. Ask for more, and you get none. Once we brand them, they are lost to you forever."

"The oldest is my daughter, Sara. If I could have her--" Kenner started.

"That will not be acceptable," I interrupted. "All three. And no goods will be exchanged. You will pay compensation for their kidnapping, and reparations for Kenner's brother."

"I ask again, who are you?" Bofis asked.

"My name is Tenay, once a member of the Imperial Legion, now serving the river militias."

"Those who drive the savages from the valley?" the second said, a scurvy knave called Obin.

"That is the army's mission," I answered.

"Once the apes are destroyed, you will see more of Majara across the river," Bofis bragged.

"Much more," Obin added.

"I doubt you will be a problem," I responded.

They stood up, hands on the hilts of their swords. I stood up, a hand on the hilt of my sword.

"You speak boldly," Bofis complained.

"Trafficking in women violates the laws of Minerva. You have until sunset to return the girls or face the consequences."

"We respect no such laws," Bofis said.

"Yes, I know," I responded.

"What if we refuse?" Obin asked.

"Do you speak for your camp?" I inquired.

"We speak for all the Majara," Bofis said. He pulled up his sleeve, showing a dagger tattoo on his forearm. Obin did the same.

"Thank you for making that clear, gentlemen. I did not wish to act rashly," I replied. "You have until sunset."

"We can kill you now. In this tent," Obin threatened.

"You are welcome to try," I answered. They exchanged glances and withdrew without further comment.

"Are you insane? Speaking to them like that?" Kenner angrily rebuked.

"They will slay us all," Parneseum lamented, arms clutched around his knees.

"Wear these," I said, taking off my heavy coat and trail hat. "Make the Majara think I am still here in camp."

"Me?" Kenner said.

"You are about my size. From a distance, they won't know the difference."

"Where will you be?" Parneseum asked.

"Someplace else," I replied. "Just before sunset, make a bonfire. Keep it going until midnight. Use the mules to create a corral around your camp, and stay alert."

"Stranger, we cannot--" Parneseum started.

"I've given you an order. You will obey or face serious consequences," I coldly demanded.

I changed into my camouflage fatigues and went down the backside of the hill, crawling a thousand yards in a rocky ditch to come up behind the oasis. The bandits had twenty-five horses on a picket line and a dozen mules for carrying supplies. As the Majara were looking up toward Kenner's encampment, I placed myself under a stand of palm trees, watching.

The desert camp was in good spirits, with a large bonfire and a keg of ale. Two older women served food as the men sat in a circle. A youngster, probably no more than seventeen, stood guard. The captives were gathered in a red tent. I couldn't see them, but I could hear them crying.

The sun disappeared below the horizon. The men rose from their fire and wandered to the foot of the hill, waiting to see what Kenner would do. Waiting to see what I would do. After half an hour, with no activity, they returned to their drinking, except one named Mallis, who dragged a young girl from the tent and tied her to a pole in the center of camp. She had been stripped naked to taunt her father.

She appeared to be about seventeen, her face bruised, the long brunette hair dirty. She had put up a fight. By Kenner's description, I supposed it was Sara. To the extent her father could see her from the hill, Mallis was baiting him. I doubted the women had been violated. Such an act would decrease their market value.

At midnight, the fire on the hill slowly died out. The youngster was left on sentry duty. With a three-quarter moon, he could see anyone coming down the long slope toward the oasis. The women found their sleeping furs. The men turned in, leaving Sara tied to the pole. If they were going to attack Kenner's camp, it would be at dawn. I crept up behind the boy standing guard and cut his throat.

The obvious choice was to free the girls and flee, though I couldn't be sure how far we'd get. One of the raiders emerged from his tent going to relieve the young sentry. It was Mallis. He found me instead. A stout club knocked him cold.

"Who are you?" Sara said as I crept close.

"Be quiet," I urged.

I cut her loose from the pole, tied Mallis in her place, and entered the tent where the other captives were. They were guarded by one of the old women, who I quickly killed before she could raise the alarm. Then I took the girls south, past the horses, to a gully beyond the lake. If they were searched for, the raiders would think they'd gone up the hill to their fathers.

I returned to the camp, lurking in the dark, and strung my bow. Mallis regained consciousness, finding himself bound.

"Help!" he called out. "Help! Help me!"

"What is this? What has happened?" Obin said, emerging into the firelight. Two others were soon at his side. They knelt to cut Mallis loose. I put an arrow through Obin's thigh, strong enough to cut the artery. Then I shot both of his confederates as they backed away in confusion. There were screams, curses, and dire threats.

The remaining raiders rushed from their tents, two with swords, the other three with bows. I shot the biggest man in the chest, and then shifted as arrows flew back in my direction. I was among the shadows. They gradually retreated, unable to free Mallis. Obin was shouting, gripping his thigh, barely able to crawl. He was the distraction I needed to get behind them.

"It's an army! They have an army!" a raider yelled.

"No, not an army. There are only a few of them," Bofis shouted. "Spread out. Track them down. Save the stranger for me."

Finding a trained guerilla fighter in the dark is no easy task, and it wasn't this time. I wounded one raider in the shoulder when I couldn't get a clear shot. He leaned forward, struggling to remove the arrow, and was hit again. The surviving Majara woman emerged from a tent.

"The girls are gone! The girls are gone!" she screamed, running through the camp with a knife. "I'll catch them! I'll catch them!"

She went north, toward the hill. I saw one of the raiders break off to join her. When another looked up to see where they were going, I put an arrow through his forehead. Only Bofis, Mallis, and the injured Obin remained, and Obin was bleeding out.

"Curse you! Curse you!" Obin groaned.

I finally recognized their accent. It was Korroban, a barren planet on the lower spiral. The inhabitants were typically enlisted for fieldwork on more prosperous worlds, when not coerced into servitude. I had fought with them at the Battle of Marley, and against them at Zursir. Good fighters, but being mercenaries, not fully dedicated. I guessed a labor transport had been caught in the Kiki Wormhole and dragged to this world.

"Tenay, come out and fight," Bofis challenged. "Have you no honor?"

"Slavers know no honor," I said, emerging into the firelight.

"Strength is the only honor a man needs," Bofis said, waving his sword.

I set my bow aside and went to meet him blade to blade. When Obin tried to rise with a dagger, I slashed him through the neck. Then I stabbed Mallis, still tied to the pole.

Bofis shouted his outrage and we closed, exchanging strikes high and low. He was an adequate swordsman, but less than professional. As I had surmised. With the lives of three girls at stake, I would not have accepted the challenge if Bofis were my equal. It didn't take long for him to reach the same conclusion.

"I yield," he said, lowering the weapon.

"You had your chance in Kenner's tent," I responded.

"You will not kill an unarmed man who has surrendered," he said, dropping his sword.

I don't know where he got that from. I ran my blade through his heart.

When the woman and lone bandit returned from their forlorn attempt to recapture the girls, they expected to find Bofis. I killed the man quick enough, but spared the woman. She would be my messenger to the Majara. Once the savages had been dealt with, they would be next if they didn't mend their ways.

"This is amazing," Kenner said the next morning as the sun rose.

"Stupendous," Parneseum agreed.

I now had possession of the Majara horses, mules, weapons, and supplies. A duke's ransom in spoils. For some reason, Kenner and Parneseum thought the plunder would be shared. They were wrong about that.

"My prizes will be taken back to Sandy Beach and traded for what I need," I explained. "The horses will be loaded on the riverboat. They are needed by the army. After next year's campaign, maybe I'll use them to start a ranch."

"What of us?" Kenner asked.

"I will give each of the girls a good horse," I decided. "They deserve compensation. Kenner, you may have the tents in reparation for your brother."

"Is that all my brother was worth? A few tents?" Kenner protested.

"I did not see you avenge him. I did see you willing to trade Melani and Antara to get Sara back."

That earned Kenner angry frowns.

* * * * * * *

Chapter Six

CHAMPION

Every soldier knows life can change without notice. A lost battle. A new commander. A dangerous assignment. I had experienced many transitions, but having no family, rarely needed to dwell on them. The time came for that to change.

After the last of the savages were driven from the northern forests, forts were established along the eastern trails. As the savages could not swim, there was no fear of surviving pods lingering south of the river where Château d'If had crashed five years before. The forests narrowed where the Great Mother and Little Mother rivers came together, providing good security. Celebrations were held. The bulk of the army disbanded, leaving a roaming force of mounted Rangers to maintain order.

"What are you going to do now, Tenay?" Nora asked.

I was back at Stone Point, it being my favorite of the settlements. Nora and Jomar had formed a strong bond. I was godfather to their first daughter.

"I haven't decided," I answered, sitting next to the fire sipping wine. "The Federation Council offered command of the Rangers, but I think reserve status suits me better."

"You are wealthy," Jomar added. "Horses. Cattle. Farms. A factory. Your own riverboat."

"Yes, but they are spread from one end of the valley to the other. I need to bring them together. Perhaps a ranch. Or start a new town," I replied.

"A new town?" Nora said.

"On the north bank of the Great Mother, just below The Fork, the Rangers now have a permanent outpost. Stables. An armory. A harbor. In my experience, wherever there is a fort, a town will appear. They'll need food, a brewery, taverns, a hospital, and when families spring up, they'll need schools. Shrines for the gods. It will be a good place to have a ranch."

"You've mentioned ranching many times," Jomar said.

"When I was a child, my family owned a ranch," I explained. "It was very large, with hundreds of horses, and ranch hands. We raised cattle, sheep, chickens, and goats. We had farms to grow our own oats and grain."

"You don't want to go back home?" Nora asked.

"My family was murdered by marauders a long time ago," I replied.

"Someday you will have a family of your own," Jomar said, wrapping an arm around Nora. "We are expecting again. In the spring."

"Congratulations. That's wonderful," I said, a little envious. For of the women I'd shared furs with over the years, none had stirred my heart. Though Jaspolea came close.

"If it's a boy, we will name him Tenay Jomar," Jomar suggested.

"That is flattering, my friend, but Tenay is not my real name. It's a nickname," I said.

"Not your real name?" Nora asked.

"My given name is Quinten, but that was from another world," I replied.

"Quinten is a good name," Jomar said, offering a toast.

* * * * * *

The river lands needed horses for farming and pulling freight. Tens of thousands roamed free on the northern plains. The Kalabar dominated these plains, a semi-nomadic clan with a poor reputation. Robbery, intimidation, and even extortion were common. With the river towns expanding, the Rangers were on notice to rein these barbarians in when it proved necessary.

It was an odd time for me. The war was over. The towns were settling into a period of prosperity. I'd acquired wealth but had no idea what to do with it. Despite Jaspolea's urging to find a new mission in life, I was still a wanderer. The Legion had been my world, and then the army. Now I was just a lost soldier waiting for his next assignment.

Casper, a new town, had sprung up on the border. Now that the army had disbanded, I decided to investigate, traveling through forests and over rolling hills. Five days north of the Fork, in the middle of a great prairie, I found twelve wagons on a well-beaten trail. Some of the wagons held merchants, others were colonists. Women and children walked alongside. I raced to catch up, riding a sturdy brown stallion named Rolotrop.

"Hello, stranger," a hardy teamster said.

"That is no stranger. That is Tenay," the wagon master corrected, riding a horse alongside him. Many faces turned to look. I saluted.

"Tenay? I am sorry, Commander, I did not recognize you with the beard," the teamster apologized.

"I'm just a reservist now. No reason to shave every day," I responded. "Is the trail safe?"

"The southern trails are safe with the river towns cooperating with each other," the teamster said. "We are grateful for your service."

"I only do as the gods command," I replied.

"The high plains still pose danger," the wagon master said. "What brings you so far from civilization?"

"Looking for horses."

"Be careful. Kalabar are about. They would rather steal than trade," the wagon master warned.

I rode with them for several hours. The land was largely flat, rich in grass for cattle, cut by streams and rivers. I saw roaming herds of elk, deer, and bison. Toward the end of the day, a town appeared several hundred yards beyond a stone bridge. Stockade walls would provide protection, though we were still some distance away.

A score of mounted plainsmen appeared on a ridge to our left, a scurvy looking bunch.

"Kalabar," the wagon master said, drawing a spear. "Hurry, everyone! Hurry for the bridge!"

The wagon train picked up the pace, the women and children running. The hostile horsemen galloped down the slope, seeking to catch them in the open. We reached the bridge first where I dismounted, stringing my bow. The town was still a thousand yards away.

"Keep the wagons moving," I ordered, slapping Rolotrop's rump to get him off the bridge.

"We'll send the guard back to help," the wagon master promised.

The settlers were only minutes ahead of the pursuit. I'd need to hold the bridge as long as possible, raising the bow with a nocked arrow to give warning. The horseman stopped.

"Surrender, stranger, or face our spears," a thick brute grunted. The language was Aktanian, from one of the Netherworlds. I knew the words, though my accent was poor.

"Go back, chieftain. You don't need to die today," I answered.

"There are twenty of us," Ceraff replied. There were horse tattoos on his bare arms. Leather straps over his bare chest held two knives. A silver medallion hanging from his neck marked him as the leader.

"Twenty of you, but only one bridge," I responded.

Half of them dismounted, drawing broad swords. I set the bow down, drawing my sword and long knife. Good for close quarters.

"Who will go first? Basser? Olan?" Ceraff asked.

"Wait, I know him. It's Tenay," Olan said, tall and brawny with a dirty brown beard and sluggish gray eyes.

"The leader of the river thieves?" Basser replied.

"They call him a worthy warrior. His hair will look good hanging from my lodge pole," Olan declared, shoving others out of his way.

"It is my right," Basser insisted, pushing Olan back.

"It is our right," two more demanded. Brothers by the look of them, long yellow hair with wide faces. "His Rangers killed Domask."

"Domask needs revenge. Let Weller and Snod have the privilege," Ceraff decided. Basser reluctantly stepped aside. The rest of the band drew back to watch. Several took flasks from their pockets.

The brothers came at me with swords swinging. The stone bridge was only wide enough for a wagon, protecting my flanks, but protecting their flanks as well. The exchange of blades was heated as I jabbed with the sword while deflecting with my long knife. The brothers preferred broad strokes. We all picked up minor bruises. I glanced back at the wagons, seeing them make good time. Before long, I'd need to retreat. As fine as the Kalabar horses might be, none could match Rolotrop in a sprint across the prairie.

The bigger one, Snod, made a mistake. I stabbed him through the shoulder. I would have let it go at that, but he suddenly pressed hard and I was forced to kill him. His brother shouted an oath and plunged forward. I killed him, too.

"This Tenay is a worthy foe," Olan said, once again seeking combat.

He and Basser had a disagreement. For a moment, I thought they would fight each other. Basser won, charging forward, but several more were close behind him. I parried their blows, my counterstrikes limited due to the need for a constant defense. Someone thrust a spear through the crowd, almost catching me in the throat. And then my leg exploded in pain. Amidst the confusion, a bowman on the embankment had shot me with an arrow, the steel point passing through my lower right leg. A heavy club knocked me senseless.

* * * * * *

I woke up tied to a wooden fence. There was a village. Scores of leather clad natives were going about their business. Old men curing hides. Women cooking. Children carrying firewood. They lived in wicker huts reinforced with bone and mud. I saw giant tusks, realizing mammoths must live on the icy steps beyond the grassy plains.

The area below my swollen knee didn't look good. The shaft had been broken off, leaving part of the arrowhead lodged in the wound. The blood was drying. I doubted my ability to stand anytime in the next few days, though it would eventually heal thanks to the treatments I'd received in Rome during my youth. My captors were unlikely to give me so much time.

"Awake at last," the hefty chieftain in a lion headdress said, kneeling close. "I am Ceraff, leader of the Kalabar. Basser has first right to kill you, though he may trade that right for a good horse or a good woman. Welter wishes to kill you, too. It was his brothers you slew on the bridge."

"What's taking so long to make the decision?" I asked, my throat dry. He gave me water from a gourd.

"You must be alive for the challenge," Ceraff said.

"Challenge?"

"Basser or Welter will fight you in the arena and take credit for killing you. The victor will wear your hair on his tunic, and carry your head on a pole when riding into battle."

"It will be weeks before I can stand well enough to fight," I pointed out.

"The challenge does not speak of that, only that you are capable of holding a weapon."

"What if I decline this honor?" I inquired.

"You may accept and die honorably, or you may be thrown into a bonfire and die screaming."

"Would parts of my body still be trophies if thrown into a fire?"

"No."

"This is much to think on," I said.

"Girl! Girl, come here!" Ceraff shouted.

A youngster about nine years old rushed up carrying a leather bag. She was tall for her age, and thin, with long blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and fair skin. Her clothes were a disgrace, barely more than rags.

"This is Cyndonia," Ceraff said. "Your riders slew her father, and you slew her uncles. She will prepare you for the challenge."

"Should I welcome such attention?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter what you want," Ceraff replied, strutting off. The girl knelt next to me, looked at the wound, and opened the bag.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Removing the arrow," she replied. "Do you need wring weed?"

"Are you a child doctor?"

"I treat horses. And goats."

"Have whiskey?"

"I can get whiskey," she offered, her words clearly spoken.

She fetched a stiff fermented rye, far superior than I would have expected. Better than wring weed, which would leave me groggy. Then she cut the arrowhead from my leg, working swiftly while gritting her teeth.

"That's good work," I complimented as she wrapped the wound in white linen soaked in alcohol.

"You need a strong leg to kill Welter," she responded.

"You want me to kill him?"

She glanced around the village, squinting. "I wish you would kill all of them. Since my father died, they have treated me as a slave. I hate them."

"They say I killed your uncles."

"They were the worst of all. They were jealous of my father. They took his horses, and weapons, and my hut. Now I sleep under a tarp, with nothing."

"I don't know if I can kill Welter. Not by crawling on the ground. And I will not be anyone's trophy. I'm sorry. I don't wish to disappoint you."

"They will throw you in the fire."

"I've been thrown in fires before."

"My uncle may not have so much satisfaction," Cyndonia objected.

I drank more whiskey. After the sun set, I dozed off. When I woke the next morning, the girl lay curled under a blanket at my feet.

I was given seven days to recover my strength, for the village wanted a show. Cyndonia was at my side every moment, finding the best food, keeping me in drink, teaching me how to speak her language better, and cleaning the wound using purified oils. She was very bright for a barbarian.

"They say you live in a great city," Cyndonia inquired on a quiet afternoon.

"There are no cities on Ballor," I replied. "A dozen or so towns number several thousand."

"They have canoes driven by machines?"

"Of a sort. They are called steamships."

"I would like to see such a thing."

"Hopefully you will, someday."

"Do you have a wife? And children?" she asked.

"No. I've not had the time."

"Every man in the village has a mate. Some more than one."

"What of your mother?" I inquired.

"She died. Father was looking for another wife when he was killed."

"I'm sorry for your misfortune."

"You should have a wife," Cyndonia said.

"You are not the first person to suggest that," I replied.

The day came for the arena. I was carried into an enclosure with several hundred spectators watching from crude bleachers. Crutches were needed to keep me on my feet. Welter arrived carrying a broadsword. He had traded a fine horse for the privilege, and a woman. Someone said it was his own wife. None were bragging about that. Ceraff entered the arena as master of ceremonies, putting a sword in my hand. It was all quite festive.

"I decline," I said, dropping the sword in the dirt.

"You will be burned," Ceraff declared.

"Minerva's warriors are not trophies," I insisted.

"Think carefully on this," the chieftain warned.

"The gods know what is best," I answered.

"No gods will help you here," Ceraff insisted. "If you refuse--"

"I claim the honor," Cyndonia suddenly announced, rushing to my side. "Ceraff made me the stranger's caretaker. I claim the right to stand as his champion."

She picked up the sword, which was much too heavy. The crowd laughed.

"Stop this," I protested.

"It is her right," Ceraff denied, ordering the guards to take me away.

"Cyndonia, don't do this," I begged.

"I don't believe your Rangers slew my father," Cyndonia said. "I think Welter did it so he could steal my father's horses."

Welter heard her accusation. The entire stadium did.

"You have been warned not to say such things. Warned many times," Ceraff rebuked.

"My father will be avenged," Cyndonia insisted.

"The horses were mine by right," Welter said, giving his sword a swipe. "Domask was a lazy drunk. Snuffing out the last of his brood is long overdue."

"I will slice you first, horse thief," Cyndonia answered.

"This is wrong," I protested.

"Let Epona decide," Ceraff concluded, much to my surprise. I did not realize they honored any of the gods.

"No. No, wait," I insisted.

"Do you change your mind?" Ceraff asked.

"Give me thirty minutes. Give me leather, thread, and thirty minutes," I requested. "And I want my own sword, not that rusty antique."

"Welter?" Ceraff inquired.

"If he thinks to defeat me with a pigsticker, the people will be amused," Welter agreed.

I used the crutches to limp back to my sleeping fur in the village, Cyndonia at my heels. I dropped to the ground. An old woman named Atilla brought a needle and thread. She had been kind to me, making soup on cold mornings.

"Whiskey?" I asked. Atilla laughed and went to fetch a flask.

"Help me remove the bandages," I requested.

Cyndonia used a small knife to cut the bindings free. The injury was purple but not infected. Leather strips were found.

"Okay," I said. "Help me sew leather around the knee. It needs to be tight."

We worked together, quickly but smartly, with my leg fully extended. The crude brace wouldn't last very long, but it only needed to keep me on my feet for a few minutes.

"The vision in Welter's right eye is poor," Cyndonia advised. "His confidence exceeds his skills."

"Many bullies are like that," I said.

"Are you doing this for me?" she asked.

"For both of us," I replied.

"He will want you to suffer."

"Have no fear, my champion. I've fought in the arena before."

With Cyndonia's help, I got on my feet, still using the crutches. Then I kissed her on the forehead.

"You are very brave," I said.

"I think you're brave, too."

"Yes, but I'm a professional. It's my job."

I tested the leg. It felt good. Well, as good as I could expect. I was fairly sure of killing Welter, but maybe being killed in the process, leaving Cyndonia as destitute as I'd found her. That couldn't happen.

We returned to the arena followed by children who didn't have seats for the spectacle. Drums were beating. Colorful banners waved in a light breeze. I wondered if there would be a feast later, finding myself hungry.

"Tenay returns," Ceraff announced, placing the sword in my hand. "And now, by the tradition of our people, I declare the match--"

"Wait!" I shouted. "Listen now to my traditions. Let all bear witness that I, Quinten Servius Tyshan, once a member of the 5th Imperial Legion, did not start this fight. Therefore, I call upon Apollo to give me strength, Minerva to give me wisdom, and Mars to give me victory."

I turned toward Welter. "Now, horse thief, let us see who the Goddess Epona prefers," I said.

The big man charged. I let the crutches drop aside and met him steel to steel. I was unsteady at first, as all could see, still finding my balance. He swung left and right, seeking an opening. I defended with short movements, not ready to extend my reach. I used the bad leg to pivot, allowing the brace to absorb my weight.

The fight went on. Welter did not tire as quickly as I hoped. I was beginning to feel the strain and made several offensive thrusts while shifting to his right where the bad eye forced him to turn his head. I couldn't find an opening. Welter kept his strokes tight, thrusting, and then backing off, looking for a way to exploit the superior length of his sword. Shorter and lighter, my sword was better for deflecting than attacking. Our audience cheered. Had I been sitting with them, I may have cheered to.

Finally, a wider than expected swing allowed me to duck under Welter's arm and bump him with my shoulder. He stumbled, holding the sword up to fend me off, and fell on his butt. By his expression, I saw he was growing frustrated, probably thinking a crippled man should be easier to defeat. And then I saw him make a mistake. Welter waved the sword as he got up on one knee, seeking to distract me, while scooping up a handful of sand.

"You fight like an old man," Welter said.

"For a legionnaire, I am an old man," I answered.

"You will have no grave."

"I'll not be needing one today."

Welter hesitated, keeping me in suspense, and then rushed forward with his sword up. As anticipated, he threw the sand in my face, seeking to blind me. I squinted as if the trick had worked, raising an arm over my eyes and lowering my guard. He lunged. I twisted aside at the last second and drove my blade into his ribs. He bucked, trying to pull back. I used both hands to shove the sword deeper, and then gave it a hard twist.

We seemed frozen for a moment, locked in mortal combat. Then blood spurted from his mouth. I yanked the blade free and stepped back. He staggered forward, reaching for my throat. The crowd fell silent. Welter collapsed into the dirt and stopped breathing.

"Praise the will of Minerva!" I declared, waving my bloody sword. "Who is next? Basser! Basser! Where are you? I hunger for your heart. What of you, Ceraff?"

Ceraff walked into the arena, looked down at the bleeding corpse, and nearly grinned.

"Tradition grants you but one victim a day, warrior," Ceraff replied.

* * * * * *

"What is this trade you speak of?" Ceraff asked.

"With the savages gone, the river towns are producing more food, wool, tools, and wagons than ever before," I replied. "They expect great riches from their industries. But they need horses for plowing. Pulling wagons. Dragging timber from the hills."

"I have seen them with a tractor," Old Sol said.

"There are a few motorized haulers, but not many. It will take years to develop that industry, and more metal than they can currently mine," I explained.

"Our hills are filled with minerals," Ceraff offered. "Iron. Graphite. Aluminum. Copper."

"It could be very profitable, but mining requires investors," I suggested. "We can form a consortium and sell shares."

"We?" Ceraff said.

"I know wealthy patrons who follow my advice on business ventures," I replied with a sly grin. We quickly understood each other.

Our gathering sat on pillows in a circle, the thatched roof meeting hall warm on a cold day, as forty men and women munched buffalo steaks. My bad leg was stretched out, the leather binding removed. Tivia leaf, only found in the eastern mountains, was said to have rapid healing properties. Accurate or not, I was feeling no pain.

"The Kalabar have plagued Casper many times, as they have plagued us," Ceraff said. "This trade you speak of is impossible."

"They will trade with you, if you will trade with them," I disagreed.

"How can that be?" Old Sol asked.

"The river towns have formed a federation. A federation I have influence with. If you prove good neighbors but Casper refuses your trade, the federation will refuse to trade with them."

"You have more power than your sword," Ceraff realized.

"I do not seek power. Power finds me," I replied.

"We will call a council," Ceraff offered. "None of my people are opposed to wealth."

I looked up to see Cyndonia enter. She was wearing a fine brown wool outfit with cotton ruffles and black leather boots. Her long hair was freshly washed, her cheeks flushing with the sudden attention. With a groan, I stood up, needing a cane for balance.

"Ladies and gentlemen, here she comes. My champion," I said, applauding. A few applauded with me. Most did not. Cyndonia's persistent accusations against her uncles, and demands for her father's horses, had rubbed many the wrong way. And she didn't much care what they thought.

"You should not be on your feet, Tenay," Cyndonia rebuked.

"I will sit when you sit with me," I replied.

It took another groan to get down, the leg needing many weeks to heal. But I had seen Rolotrop in the corral. I would not be walking home.

"You are beautiful in that outfit," I complimented, sharing the roasted steak from my plate.

"You look better when not covered in bloody rags," Cyndonia replied.

"To our tailors," I said, offering a toast. My wine was strong. Her wine was watered.

"You seem fond of the girl," Ceraff observed.

"She inspired me to kill an enemy and find new friends," I said. "Is there more a warrior should want?"

"The lass has eight horses now. A worthy dowery," Old Sol remarked.

"Dowery?" I asked.

"Would she not make a good bride?" Old Sol said.

"A bride for who?" I replied.

"For you," Ceraff said with a crafty gleam in his eye. "It would be a marriage alliance with my people."

"She's nine years old!" I exclaimed.

"She may take another year or two to blossom," Ceraff admitted.

I looked at Cyndonia. She was staring down. Quiet. Nervous.

"Is there another you would mate with? Certainly, you have more than one wife?" Old Sol inquired.

"I am not married," I confessed.

"Then there is no impediment. Speak now. Will you marry the girl or not?" Ceraff asked.

"No, I will not marry a child," I answered.

Cyndonia jumped up, looking for a way to flee the hall. I saw tears on her cheeks. I grabbed her hand, pulling her back down.

"You could not want this," I whispered.

"I hate it here. I want to be with you," she replied. I used my sleeve to wipe her tears.

In many ways, she reminded me of myself at her age. Smart and willing, though facing a bleak future. But I had the Legion. Cyndonia had no one.

"Have no fear," I whispered.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up once again, this time with Old Sol's help. A grand fire burned in the hearth, lighting the large chamber while casting deep shadows. All were watching. Curious. I looked down at Cyndonia, her heart breaking, and felt a strange emotion. One I had only seen in others.

"I will not marry this girl," I announced. "But I will adopt her. My champion, look at me. Will you consent to be my daughter?"

Cyndonia looked up, not quite comprehending, and then burst into a smile.

"Yes, Tenay, I will be your daughter," she agreed, leaping to my side. "Can my name be Champion now? Your Champion?"

"You are Champion, but I am no longer Tenay. I am your father."

We hugged, and I had no doubt I'd made the right decision. I never would.

"Well, Ceraff, what do you say? Have we a family alliance?" I asked.

"Will you take the girl with you when you leave?" he inquired.

"She will leave with me," I confirmed. Ceraff jumped to his feet.

"Then we are brothers," he said, embracing me. "Wine! More wine! Tonight, we celebrate!"

A week later, a caravan rode from the low hills across the vast rolling prairie toward Casper. Men, women, and teenagers were on an official trade mission, the youngsters an act of good faith. There was a surprise when we crested the final hill.

"By the gods, what is this?" Old Sol said. Below us were forty tents. Two hundred cavalry. Ten freight wagons. Four hundred horses. Two pieces of light artillery.

"Those are my Rangers," I replied. "It would seem they've heard of my trouble."

"We should tell them there is no trouble," Ceraff quickly urged.

"You did not warn us of so much danger," Old Sol chastised.

"To be honest, my friend, I did not suspect this," I said.

"All of these warriors are here for you, father?" Champion asked.

"It would appear so," I replied. She puffed up her chest, looking at those around her with satisfaction. A group of Rangers mounted to ride in our direction, spears ready. I rode out ahead to prevent problems.

"We are pleased to find you well, Commander," Frendar said. "There is a story you'd been foully captured and tortured."

Frender was 24 now, tall and strong, a captain of the Ballorian Rangers. A long way from the freckled-face kid I'd met at Stone Point five years before.

"You've brought many friends," I observed.

"More will come, if needed," Frendar replied.

"Tell the command to stand down," I instructed. "There was trouble, but all is well now. We come to discuss a trade agreement."

"Is this an agreement you want?" Frendar asked.

"I wrote it."

"Then all will agree," Frendar assured me with a dark grin.

"Thank you, my good and loyal friend," I said, reaching to shake his hand. "Allow me to introduce my daughter, Champion."

"Your daughter?" Frendar said.

"She will be riding with me from now on," I confirmed.

Frender looked Champion over, the youngster striking in her russet riding leathers and floppy campaign hat. Her big, bright blue eyes gazed with confidence.

"Welcome, my lady," Frendar said, tipping his cap. "There is no place in the river lands where you will not be honored."

"My father's friends are my friends," Champion replied.

* * * * * *

With a daughter to care for, I could not remain a vagabond. We spent most of the next two years at Middle Town, where Dr. Jaspolea was building her hospital. I made sure Champion got the beginnings of a good education, was taught to speak galactic standard, and given civilized manners. Jaspolea was wonderful in all of this, becoming a beloved mentor. But there was no talk of marriage. Jaspolea and I were looking for different things.

"This is good land, father," Champion said.

"Fine soil, plenty of grass, and timber. You are right, daughter. I think we've found our new home," I agreed.

We stood on a plateau above The Fork. The Great Mother River ran on the north side, the Little Mother on the south. Our ranch house would be built twenty yards back from a fifty-foot granite cliff. There was a western view that seemed to go on forever. With a telescope, I could even see smoke from Stone Point seventy kilometers downriver.

"We should call it Fort Tenay," Champion suggested.

"Let's call it Twin Forks," I replied.

Below us, only an hour away, Fort Defiance had been constructed on the north bank of the Great Mother. Protection should the savages return. After building a ferry, we began recruiting workers. Within six months, we had a comfortable lodge, a bunkhouse, barns, stables, and corrals. Plowed fields grew wheat, oats, barley, and corn. A hundred kilometers of rolling grassland fed the stock. So many guests insisted on visiting that it became necessary to build an inn. And a tavern. We established a general store, and a clinic. Our shrine was dedicated to Minerva, though other gods were honored. In time, we would need a school.

Not all was peace and quiet. With prosperity there was greed, and occasional lawlessness. Malcontents formed gangs to cause trouble. There were thefts, and occasional murders. At the urging of the Federation Council, I became a magistrate, issuing indictments and presiding over trials. It had never occurred to me that my education in Rome might qualify me for a legal career.

Champion stayed with me through all of it. She proved a good student and an expert horsewoman. There was not a man or woman in the towns who did not know her, and as she reached fifteen, not a boy who didn't want her despite the frowns of her watchful father. I trained her in the use of weapons.

Several years before, just after we founded Twin Forks, there was an incident in Sandy Beach that affected our new family. A radio tower kept us connected with the river towns, allowing Champion and Jaspolea to communicate often. One day we heard that, despite agreements with the Majara, they had raided across the river four times. The last raid resulted in half a dozen deaths and several kidnapped girls. The Federation had had enough and mustered the army. Champion and I rode with them, myself as a scout, my twelve-year-old daughter as a junior officer.

For some reason, the Majara felt safe from invasion, believing the river people lacked knowledge of the desert. I had fought in deserts on a dozen worlds, giving advice on water, shade, what time to march, and when to hold up. None of it was difficult, and the war was short. Fifty kidnapped women were freed, and fifteen Majara leaders were hanged.

"I am glad this campaign is over, father," Champion said, weary of months on the trail. "I want my own bed. And my bath. The winter will be cold."

"Me, too. The towns should do well without my help for a while," I agreed. "We'll be snug at Twin Forks."

"There are others who need our help," Champion hinted.

We were on the southside of the river across from Sandy Beach, waiting for the ferry. Only blackened timbers remained of a burned-out trading post. Four graves marked the final resting place of a dead family.

"I was unhappy on the plains, but there was not so much death," Champion said. "What happened here, it has left orphans. It's very sad."

"That is the price of war. I was an orphan. As you are."

"My clan took care of me. Not very well, but they did. Who took care of you?"

"The army. And not very well, I'm afraid."

"We can do better."

"Better? Better than what?"

Champion disappeared into a tool shed, emerging a minute later with two shy young girls. I guessed them to be twin sisters about ten years old. By the dark brown hair and deep brown eyes, likely survivors of the destroyed trading post.

"Father, this is Jenni, and this is Deena," Champion introduced. "Their parents are dead, their property gone. They have none to care for them."

The two girls looked at me hopefully. I looked at Champion. It took me a moment to grasp what she was saying.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked.

"Yes, father, I am sure," Champion replied.

The ferry pulled into the dock. Travelers began to board.

"Come daughters," I said, reaching out my hands. "We're going home."

* * * * * *

Tenacious has become a father, a rancher, respected in battle and in counsel, but his greatest challenge is yet to come. With the threat of a savage migration looming, he must venture into the lands of the forest women. Fierce and independent, they aren't fond of male intruders.