Phantom of the Heart (10 page)

“My love?” Sterling stepped closer and sighed softly at what she saw. Orla sat on floor, head bowed, cradling a sword in her arms. “Beloved, I need to be close to you,” Sterling said.

A tear-streaked face lifted to meet her eyes and a sob escaped Sterling's lips. Her own pain and fear were reflected in Orla’s eyes. Orla quickly put the sword aside and held out her arms. Stumbling forward, Sterling fell on her knees next to Orla, her eyes riveted on her wife's face.

“I know it is selfish of me to ask, but please be strong for me…for the both of us. I cannot do this unless I know you have faith for both of us.”

Orla reached out and effortlessly hoisted her into her lap. Sterling's heart ached when Orla pressed a wet face into her neck and began to sob softly. There were no words to comfort her wife and thus she just held on tightly. They sat like that for a long while, before Orla lifted her head and searched Sterling's eyes.

“I promise to be strong for the both of us, if you promise to be careful on the battlefield. There is a reason why we had to meet and fall in love.”

Sterling gently combed her fingers through Orla's sweaty, dark locks. “I believe that too, my love.”

“Good.” The blue eyes blazed with determination. “Then we both need to have faith.”

Sterling nodded. “I promise to try my utmost to return to you.” She leaned forward and captured Orla's lips in a searing kiss. When she pulled away, she found Orla's blue eyes shining with an eerie white light. But then it was gone and she wondered if she had imagined it.

“Let us return to our chamber. We still have a few hours together.”

***

Orla felt different. Strange.

Something had happened in the shed, but she did not know what. Holding Sterling's hand as they slowly walked down the hallway to their room, she could feel her body heating up internally, scorching her insides. It was as if an army of fire ants were feeding on her intestines. She must have made a sound, because Sterling quickly looked up at her.

“What is the matter, Orla?”

Seeing the confusion and concern on her wife's face, she looked away. “I…I am scared.”

Sterling pushed into her body. “We promised to have faith. No need for you to be scared. Be strong for me.”

Orla nodded.
Faith. I need to have faith.
Nothing was going to happen as long as they had faith. She embraced Sterling fiercely. “Let us go finish our wedding night.”

Sterling smiled up at her, the silver eyes warm with love. “That is a splendid idea.”

An urgency to have this woman again, overtook Orla. She swung Sterling into her arms and made for their bedchamber.

Chapter 10

Sterling stiffened, but did not make a sound as the arrow was yanked out. She fell back onto the bed, her mouth open in a silent scream. A warm, sticky wetness seeped behind her back, soaking the sheets she lay on.

“There is a lot of blood, Your Highness. I need to stop the bleeding. Would you like something for the pain?”

Sterling licked suddenly dry lips as she shook her head. “No…no medicines. Just stop the bleeding and bandage it well. I have to go back.”

“Go back? But…but…”

Sterling's silver eyes skewered the woman who stood over her bed. Miriam was a great healer and a good friend. But, like all healers, she lacked the knowledge of warfare. How could Sterling make this woman with the gentle hands understand that she needed to go out there again and fight? That the arrow just pulled from her side was a Hurian arrow? Not only had her men seen her fall to an enemy arrow, but the enemy had seen as well. The Hurians may be barbarians, but they were the most cunning foes she had ever encountered. Since her return to the front line, she had fought the most brutal battles of her life as a soldier. Her men were well-trained and excellent soldiers, but the Hurians were masters at brutality and mental warfare.

As expected, the death of Commander Farah and the resulting power vacuum had allowed a battalion of Hurians to cross the border, pushing the Royal Army farther back into Karasi territory. Some of the smaller villages close to the front line were the first to feel the brutal presence of the barbarians who pillaged, raped, and killed their way through in their quest for control. Captives, mostly women and children, were slaughtered like cattle and bled dry as part of the Hurians war ritual meant to break their enemies. Rattled by such ruthlessness, many of her younger soldiers lost their nerve, making fatal mistakes on the battlefield and paying with their lives.

With sheer determination, she had whipped her men into a frenzy of revenge. The brutality that ensued left her returning to her tent drenched in enemy blood after every battle. Loyalty to the crown and her own presence alongside them brought a semblance of strength to the men and, together, they gradually pushed back the intruders.

She needed the healer to understand that the men out there were fighting a war so that Miriam and her family could grow old in peace. She, Warrior Princess of Karas, was the center around which these men had built their hope of winning this war again.

“My country and my men need me out there, Miriam. We are so close to pushing them back. My absence could reverse it all. Now do as I tell you and let me join the battle.”

Understanding and fear warred in Miriam's eyes, but she did as she was told. Half an hour later, Sterling gritted her teeth against the pain in her side, as Miriam helped her pull on her armor again.

As soon as she picked up her sword, she read the words which were lovingly engraved on the blade—
Revendi at Me.
With a faint smile she nodded.
Yes, my love, I will return to you and no barbarian will stand in my way of keeping that promise to you.

A loud cheer sounded, as she ducked out of her tent and lifted her sword above her head. Orion trotted over to her and, after lovingly patting him, she swung up into the saddle.

***

“You need to eat more, my child. You are wasting away.” Lima pleaded softly. “You surely do not want Sterling to see you like this upon her return.”

Orla sighed deeply.
Can she not understand? It is so painful to continue without Sterling.
The first three months her wife was gone, she still had hope that Sterling might return. Now, half a year later, news from the Wastelands was scarce. Sterling wrote as often as she could. Orla appreciated that Sterling remembered that someone else would have to read the letters for her and tried not to make them too personal. It was only late at night that Orla would take the notes to bed with her, trace the letters with her finger, and imagine the love and desire Sterling must have felt as she wrote the words.

A shadow filled the shed, breaking her reverie. The man looked haggard, as he stumbled forward. Orla could see a thick layer of dust on his clothing and knew immediately that he was a messenger. Only a man riding hard for days would look like this man did. Immediately, her thoughts went to Sterling and her heart turned cold.

“Milady, the queen requests your presence urgently.”

Orla threw a quick glance to her mother and saw the same fear reflected in her eyes. She hastily shrugged out of her apron, leaving it where it fell and pushed her way past the man. Her long legs cut down the space between her and the castle, as she ran to the throne chamber. She burst through the double doors, not waiting for the guards to open them for her. She came to an abrupt stop at the sight which greeted her. The queen was not alone. Standing before her was the Crown Prince of Arnat. The queen looked at her and waved her closer.

“Come closer, Orla.”

Orla hastily bowed before her sovereign, her heart hammering in her chest. “Your Majesty?”

Mesmeria inhaled deeply. “We have a problem, Orla.”

Orla felt the air get stuck in her throat. “Sterling?” she croaked.

“No, Orla, not Sterling…worse.”

Not Sterling? Orla felt herself gradually relax. If Sterling was fine then nothing could be any worse.

“How may I be of service, Your Majesty?”

Mesmeria turned to Cybralle who stood silently next to the throne. “Cybralle?”

The queen’s consort descended the few steps toward her. “Prince Halen brought us disturbing news. A plague is ravaging the kingdom of Arnat and they request our assistance.”

“How…What can I do to help, milady?”

Cybralle looked at the young prince and back at her. “We need weapons, Orla, and you are the best there is.”

Orla nodded slowly. “Anything specific, milady?”

Cybralle's face was unreadable. “We need something unique. But let us first make our guests comfortable, before I fill you in.”

***

“You have reopened the wound. Not to speak of the new one you sustained today.”

Sterling grinned at Miriam. She was too happy to let Miriam’s surliness spoil it for her. Today's victory was theirs. The barbarians were back across the border where they belonged and their numbers had been reduced significantly.

“It was all worth it, Miriam. Victory was ours today,” she murmured lazily. She took another sip from her goblet. “The barbarians will remember this day for generations to come.”

Miriam tsked as she rolled Sterling over to reach the wounds in her back. With a sharp dagger she cut away the bloodied shirt. “You are lucky that these wounds are not serious.”

Sterling felt Miriam's hands as they gently pulled away the shirt then suddenly stopped. “Sterling?”

“Yes, Miriam.”

“What are these marks on your back?” Miriam asked slowly.

Sterling sighed. Miriam could be so exhausting at times. “What marks?”

She felt Miriam touch a few spots on her lower back and Sterling was ashamed to feel a pleasant shiver race up her spine. It had been so long since she was touched and her lower back was a very sensitive spot.

“They look like bite marks. Have you been attacked by the camp dogs recently?”

Sterling frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You have been bitten. Were you playing with Greer and Vinion again?”

Sterling's frown deepened as she carefully shifted through her memories. Her eyes suddenly widened and she blushed. Orla! She was taken back to their last lovemaking session, just before she had to leave. Orla had been ravenous. Sterling vaguely remembered the blacksmith licking her whole body, taking playful nips.

Sterling cleared her throat uncomfortably. Should she tell Miriam? Maybe she should, because knowing Miriam, the woman would not let her rest.

“Ah, it was not the dogs,” she mumbled, glad that her face was hidden from the healer.

“Then what could have caused these…” Miriam's voice suddenly faded away. “Oh! Ah…I…I…uh…” Miriam inhaled deeply. “As I said, you are lucky that your wounds are not serious. I will clean them and replace the bandages.”

Sterling saw the healer's legs as she walked away toward the medicine chest to retrieve whatever she needed to take care of her injuries. Turning her head slightly, she could see the healer bending over the chest.

“Do you want me to put something on the…uh…bites too?” Miriam asked.

Sterling grinned lecherously. She was getting drunk. “No. Leave them be. They are a good luck charm.”

Miriam turned from the chest, her blue eyes somber. “It’s been months. These marks should have healed already, Sterling.”

Sterling sighed, as she gave Miriam an irritated stare. “They do not bother me. Now finish up so I can join my men outside. We have a lot to celebrate.”

Miriam shot her a suspicious look before she slammed the chest shut and returned to the bed. “Your wish is my command,” Miriam said stiffly. Sterling ignored her.

The next twenty minutes passed in silence, as the healer cleaned and dressed her wounds. They only spoke again when Miriam helped her into her shirt.

“Your wife…” Miriam began carefully, but stopped again.

Sterling looked up at her from where she was busy pulling on her boots. “What about my wife, Miriam?”

Miriam did not meet Sterling's eyes, as she kept herself busy packing away her medicine. “She seems to be a wonderful person. You must love her a lot.”

Sterling sat up straight, her eyes sharp as they watched her friend. “I adore my wife. Why are we talking about her?”

Miriam looked up quickly, her blue eyes hooded. “She seems like a nice girl.”

As much as she tried, Sterling could not keep the smile off her face. “She is an angel.”

“How well do you know her? You got married…”

Sterling pushed to her feet, towering over the petite healer. “What is it you really want to say, Miriam?”

Miriam lowered her eyes. “I wish I could be so fortunate to meet someone like her one day.”

Sterling's eyes were pensive as they rested on Miriam's bowed head. That was not what Miriam wanted to say. She could sense the other woman's discomfort. “What about Orla, Miriam?”

“Nothing, Your Highness. I just wanted to congratulate you on finding such a wonderful wife. She grew up before me and she is well-liked. She once helped my grandmother to rebuild her pig pen after it was vandalized by rowdy youths.”

Sterling was not appeased, but, for now, she was going to let it be. She fastened the strings on her shirt and nodded. “She is a caring person and I love that about her.” Grabbing her cloak, she ducked out of the tent, not seeing the strange look that crossed over Miriam's face.

***

Cybralle swung the blade and smiled as it cut effortlessly through the air. She turned to Orla.

“It has good balance. Not too light and also not too heavy. How many do we have now?”

“Two hundred and one with the one you are holding, milady.”

Cybralle smiled, but her eyes had a hard edge to them. “Good. I knew I could count on you.” She replaced the sword on the table. Since the arrival of the crown prince a week ago, she had been restless.
Arnat
was her home and the home of her family. It was her duty to protect her people even though she was the co-ruler of another kingdom. Her eyes fell on the sacks in the corner. “How many do you think you could still finish before we leave?”

She saw the blacksmith estimate the capacity of the sacks. “Probably another hundred if I get two more helpers.”

Cybralle nodded. “That would suffice. King Parlin is sending over three hundred men to accompany us to
Arnat
.”

She saw the confusion on the blacksmith's face. “You are also going?”

“
We
are going, Orla. I am taking you with us. To win the war against this plague, we will need more weapons. You are the only one who possesses the craftsmanship we need.”

Cybralle saw the emotions warring on her daughter-in-law's face and she knew what she was thinking about. “Sterling will join us there. I will send a missive to her before we leave.”

“Then I would be honored to join you, milady.”

Cybralle smiled at the blacksmith. “As a precaution, I want you to join us in training before we leave. To reach Erfolk quickly, we will travel through dense forests. I want you to be able to defend yourself in case we are ambushed.”

Orla smiled. “You need not burden yourself too much over me, milady. For the past five years, I have been a student of Memphi. My mother insisted that I should learn the art of war, just in case I was called upon to join the Royal Army like my father.”

Cybralle's face split in a wide grin. Even better, she thought. Memphi was one of the best warriors in
Karas
. Age had sidelined the old master, but he was still a force to be reckoned with when sufficiently provoked. She herself had sent Sterling to study under the warrior at a very tender age, and Sterling was a great example of the man's expertise.