Kindred Spirit Lodge Presents
The Quest
Part 5 of 8
by Shasa Jin Umi
May 13th, 2002
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Shasa ran blindly through the parting crowd, with no destination—or thought of any kind—in mind. To run from everything was all that Shasa wanted, and she was prepared to run as hard and far as was necessary to make the hurt disappear. But in ten years of running, she knew there was no escape from this demon.
Her body stopped, as it registered the fact that a bystander had not yielded to the path being formed by the other members of the assembly. Grey eyes captured and held her with compassion. Shasa’s intentions crumbled at the sight of her dearest friend standing with open arms. “Nessa!”
How she had come to be here, Shasa didn’t know or care. When those strong arms pulled her in, she yielded to the Celt, and held on to the lifeline offered. The warrior then lifted her with ease and held her firmly. Wrapped in the warmth of absolute safety, Shasa buried her face in Nessa’s neck and sobbed.
The world around her disappeared until Shasa felt her body being lowered. Her arms tightened around Nessa’s neck in desperate reflex, and she clung to the one she trusted. “Don’t leave me!” she pleaded through her tears.
“I am here, lass.” The Celt laid them both on softness, and held the sailor close. “It’s over,” she whispered.
The beauty of her own Gaelic language surrounded her, and Shasa let the welcome sound flow through her. Soft kisses soothed her, and gentle touches confirmed she was loved. But her soul wept without end, and her eyes remained closed for fear that if she looked at Nessa again, her heart would shatter.
The Celt patiently tended her wounded friend, and gradually both the sobs and tension wracking the smaller body lessened. Green eyes fluttered open and tried to focus. Tender fingers wiped away the latest tears from her cheeks, and Shasa avoided looking into the face of her Ness.
Still, the whispering words of comfort and assurance came. The touch from her Celt was soft and warm. Shasa closed her eyes and took a shaky breath before opening them once again to chance a look into the welcoming eyes of home.
She saw what she knew she would. Unconditional love looked back at her. And as she feared, her heart did shatter.
Shasa tried to hold back the anguish that threatened to overtake her, just long enough to beg the Celt to make her feel human again…if only for a moment. But the sobs came again, and choked all attempts to speak. Green eyes pleaded with gray, and then Shasa could no longer see through the flowing tears.
But she knew her wishes had been understood, as she felt the strong fingers of her Celtic friend unlacing her blouse. When the first touch came to her breast, she felt a curious mixture…both of passion, and intense emotional pain. Shasa lifted shaking hands to cover her face and hide her shame, even as her body arched into the contact.
To Nessa’s credit, she didn’t try to remove the hands covering the sailor’s face. Instead, she continued with her slow movements and loving words. She undressed Shasa carefully, and then began to remove her own clothing.
As each part of her attire was removed, Shasa felt a new awakening of desire. But when she was fully exposed, her mind engaged to scream its protest. She was opening herself to intense vulnerability, and she was doing it voluntarily.
As she felt the naked Celt’s body return above her, Shasa’s hands left her face and grabbed the much larger ones of her friend. Gray orbs watched the fearful green and waited.
Shasa’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and her mind was struggling to work just as quickly. Her lips moved to form words, but she didn’t know what those words were. Shasa trembled beneath the patient warrior.
What were they doing? Why? She needed…she needed…she had no idea what she needed! Shasa let her pathetic confusion show, in hopes that Nessa would tell her what to do. But the warrior sat quietly waiting for Shasa to make her own choice.
So she let her heart guide her. The kindness the Celt was showing her was real. The compassion that shown from her eyes was genuine. She had always trusted Nessa, and not once had that trust been misplaced.
Shasa swallowed hard and attempted to smile as she released the Celt’s hands. Nessa remained still for a few moments, watching the sailor’s face intently. Shasa took the opportunity to grab hold of the bedcovers in an attempt to hide her trembling fingers.
But when her friend disengaged her eyes and began to look at and touch her breasts, she found that it wasn’t just her hands that would tremble. Her entire body began to quake and yearn for the loving touch. Her nipples hardened under the gentle pressure, and the first sounds that were not filled with anguish, left her voice. She moaned.
Dancing fingers and palms circled her breasts, and then outlined the muscles of her abdomen. Lower and lower they moved, and Shasa was filled with desire. The Celt slid smoothly down her body, lowering herself between the thighs of the sailor.
Shasa closed her eyes. Nessa knew who she was, and what she’d done this past decade, yet she loved her anyway. Green eyes filled with tears and spilled over onto her cheeks. She drew a shaky breath and focused on her body; every inch was alive and pulsing with need.
The warrior exposed her sex and slowly entered her core. Shasa’s body leapt with the intensity of the sensation, and she cried out. Nessa stilled before moving very slowly within her; the gentleness of the strokes causing new tears to flow from the sailor.
Shasa once again became aware of whispers in their native tongue. Gaelic expressions of gratitude and…unworthiness of love…could be heard, intermingled with soft moans. It took several moments before Shasa realized that the words and sounds were coming from her own throat.
Nessa had halted her movements when Shasa declared herself unworthy of true love. She waited until the sailor opened her eyes and met her own, which sparked their defiance of Shasa’s words. Then the friend that had never forgotten their passion, lowered her head.
Shasa’s body arched, and her head was thrown back as Nessa’s tongue lightly licked her. Shasa clenched the bedding and desperately tried to hold back. But the Celt rapidly and relentlessly licked her most sensitive spot, as she maintained the slow and steady fucking of her cunt, and Shasa could not fend off the impending explosion.
Shasa gasped for breath as her body strained to release itself. Pleasure coursed through her veins, and her moans and cries were constant. There was no wall to build, no place to run and hide. Every component of the sailor’s emotions and memories was emerging, and she could not escape. Pain, anger, love, joy, grief, bitterness, passion and desire all fused together in a mass and overwhelmed her heart, even as her body succumbed to orgasm.
Shasa’s fingers grabbed and tangled in the warrior’s hair as she pulled the Celt’s mouth firmly against her clit. Nessa took hold of her hips and sucked the pulsing bud into her mouth, as she simultaneously rammed her fingers into the slut’s cunt. Shasa erupted.
The slut bucked wildly against Nessa’s face, yet the stronger Celt held on and drank the flowing nectar Shasa produced. Her large fingers returned to a slow and gentle, continuous rhythm within the slut, and her tongue swirled around the tip of her clit, teasing more from her. After only a moment or two, Shasa came crashing again. Her blissful words and moans filled the room, and then suddenly changed to uncontrollable crying.
Nessa pulled her fingers slowly out while keeping hold of Shasa’s hips, knowing that the slut would come again at the loss of contact. As the spasms subsided, the Celt rose to her knees and carefully draped her body atop her friends. Shasa immediately tried to melt into the larger form, and hide her tear-stained face from those understanding, gray eyes.
Nessa held Shasa tightly until she felt the sobs abate, and then she pulled back slightly. The sailor felt a large finger settle under her chin and gently raise her face to the Celt’s sight. Shasa’s eyes lowered.
“You are worthy of so much love, Caraid.” Nessa kissed the fresh tears from her eyelids, and then moved to the full lips that still trembled. The kiss was slow and tender, and told of the truth of the Celt’s words.
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Warrior and slut had fallen asleep together, as they had many times in the past. Nessa held and rocked her while singing, until Shasa was able to quiet the voices in her head enough to sleep. They had just awoken after only two candlemarks, also in the familiar way—to the sounds of Shasa’s screams. Nessa held her tightly until she returned to her senses and quieted.
“Caraid, please look at me.” The warrior’s voice was barely audible, but the concern was clearly heard.
Shasa lifted her head from Nessa’s chest, and did as she was bidden. Her green eyes, normally piercing, were bloodshot, dull, and nearly lifeless. Nessa paused a moment to allow the shock to pass, and to search beyond the surface. She found a desperate sort of exhaustion looking back. “Talk to me?”
Shasa looked down and briefly returned her head to her favorite warrior pillow. When she looked up again, she tried to smile, but it felt unnatural. She needed no pretense with the Celt. She shrugged. “I’m drowning, Ness. I try to swim, but he pulls me under again and again. All my strength is gone. I can’t fight him anymore, and he won’t leave me alone.” Shasa’s jaw clenched. “I wanted it to end today. I needed to kill her, or to make her kill me.”
Nessa nodded her understanding.
“But I can’t kill her.” Shasa grunted in disgust. “All this time looking, and I can’t fucking kill her.” Shasa vigorously rubbed her face, sighed, and returned her thoughts to the present.
And at present, a delicious woman lay naked with her in bed. A genuine smile spread across the sailor’s features. She carefully ran her fingertips over Nessa’s face, pausing at the Celt’s lips. Green eyes sparkled, as she ran her index finger over the warrior’s full lips. “And I want to live now more than ever before.”
Nessa laughed, delighted to see Shasa act like her old self. Even if it didn’t last, at least it meant that she was still alive in there somewhere under the damage.
The smile faded. “But I can’t live with him screaming in my head anymore. I can’t Ness, I just can’t!”
“Hey, it’s okay, Shasa.” Nessa pulled Shasa in to her chest and held her until she felt the girl relax again.
Shasa pushed away a bit, and shook her head. “No it’s not, Nessa. It’s not okay. I’m not okay. He won’t leave me alone, and I’m too tired to fight him anymore.”
Nessa’s brows knit slightly.
Shasa saw, and pushed the warrior hard enough to roll out from under her. Shasa snapped up her shirt and barked, “Damn you! I’m not nuts!”
Nessa leapt up, grabbed the sailor by the wrist, ripped the shirt from her hand, and pulled her roughly against her body. “I didn’t say you were!”
“You were thinking it!” Shasa struggled in vain against the Celt’s greater strength. “Let me go!”
Nessa threw her back onto the bed, and pinned her there. Shasa thrashed underneath the warrior, and got several good slugs in.
“Shasa, stop it! What the Hades are you doing?”
Nessa finally got hold of both arms and restrained the sailor, who was now sobbing again. The Celt closed her eyes in frustration, and forced her temper to subside. The sailor must have been doing the same thing, as they both seemed to calm at the same time. But the warrior decided to save herself a few bruises by holding on to Shasa for a bit longer.
Nessa tried again. “What’s wrong?”
Shasa turned frightened eyes towards her friend. “What if I am?”
“What if you’re, what?”
“Crazy.”
Nessa took a deep breath. In actuality, she had considered that possibility before. People often talked to the deceased, and they weren’t considered crazy, but Shasa had always insisted that her dead father was the one doing the talking. He even had a tendency to scream and demand vengeance…and that was not exactly known as normal in most circles.
“You’re not crazy, Shasa. I think your father will leave you alone when you let him go. Ah…ah!” Nessa put a finger against her friend’s lips before the protest could be heard. “You’ve never let him go, and you know it. You’ve never said goodbye.”
The oars began to row in the sailor’s mind. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I need to have a funeral for him.” Shasa looked up at the Celt with hope. “Will you do me a favor?”
____****____
Sending the message had been the easy part. Occupying Shasa while she waited seemed to be the task that would separate the warriors from the wenches.
“How long until you think he can get here?”
“Four days, at least, Nessa.”
“Brigid’s backside! What am I gonna do with her for four days?”
Gabrielle smiled and laid an understanding hand upon the Celt’s tresses. “Well, if it was any other situation, I’d say have a whole lot of sex!”
Nessa chuckled, in spite of her frustration, and accepted the cup of Earl Grey that the bard supplied. She rubbed her eyes and stared, seemingly unaware of the mug resting on the table.
Gabrielle sat down beside her. “Are you getting any sleep?”
“Hmm?” Lord Nessa looked up absently. “I’m sorry, what did ye say?”
“Never mind.” Gabrielle patted the large hand. “I’m glad she accepted the room Cyrene offered, and I’m very glad you came after her in the first place.”
“Aye.” The warrior noticed the steaming mug in front of her, and took a sip with obvious delight. “The service wenches here are a stealthy lot!”
Gabrielle stifled her laughter behind her hand.
The tea gradually brought the Celt into a state of alertness. “Gabrielle, I wanted to thank ye for offering your Amazon guards as runners. I think it’s better that I’m here for Shasa, instead of on the road.”
“Well, we couldn’t pretend that Xena and I were gone, if they were still hanging around here. And I think the villagers had had quite enough of all the strangers in Amphipolis.” Gabrielle looked out the window. “It’s grown so much in the last few years, but the locals still want it to stop.”
“Not likely with the ships coming in to port.”
“Mm-hm. That port is what will keep Amphipolis in the history books.”
Nessa snorted. “Nah. Xena is.”
Gabrielle smiled and closely examined a spoon on the table. “Nessa? May I stick my nose where it doesn’t belong?”
The warrior grinned wickedly. “I’d be more than fine with that, but I’d be betting Xena would find fault with the idea.” Nessa put her mug down and assessed the serious look on the bard’s face. “Lass, ye may always tell me what ye think. What’d be on your mind?”
“I’ve heard Shasa’s screams, every time she awakens, and I know you’re exhausted.”
“Aye.” The Celt agreed. “I’d forgotten how bad it gets when she’s feeling stressed. I don’t know how she’s done it all these years.”
“Well, I think you need help, and I’m offering mine.”
Nessa looked a bit surprised.
“What?”
“I thought maybe after Shasa had tried to kill Xena…well, maybe you weren’t feeling too…helpful.” Nessa saw the bard’s anger rise, and the warrior suddenly looked embarrassed and tried to make amends. “That sounds really quite rude. I’m sorry, Gabrielle. I know you don’t hold ill feelings towards the lass.”
“This is hardly the first time that I’ve had to face Xena’s past mistakes, Lord Nessa. Nor is it Xena’s. I feel very badly about Shasa’s loss, and I can guarantee you that every waking scream has torn the heart right out…” Gabrielle stopped abruptly, and clenched her jaw to hold her tongue.
A long, awkward silence followed.
“I’m truly sorry for my thoughtless words, my lady.”
“I know. I’m sorry too, Lord Nessa.” Gabrielle sighed, and then visibly gathered herself. “Well, let’s return to first names, shall we?”
The Celt breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “Aye, lass.”
“My offer to help still stands, if you want it.”
“I’d be grateful.”
Gabrielle smiled, and then stood when she noticed Nessa’s mug was empty. “I’ll be back in a second with more tea, and then we’ll figure all this out, okay?”
“Aye.” Nessa watched her go before rising to stretch her long limbs. A growing number of angry voices and barking dogs caught her attention, and she wandered to a window to see what had riled the villagers so early in the morning.
It took a bit of time for the Celt to locate the source of the problem. It seemed that a couple of blokes were getting into a tussle, in front of the stables. It was easy to guess that the one wearing a long leather apron and holding a hammer was the smithy. Gabrielle returned with a steaming mug of tea, and set it on the table before joining the warrior. The other bloke appeared to be…
“Oh, bloody hell!” Nessa bellowed as she ran out the door.
Gabrielle looked out the window, and saw the distinct form of Shasa barely standing on wobbly legs. But her defiance and courage was evident, as she continued to face the hulking smithy. A yellow dog stood next to her, baring teeth at the enemy. Lord Nessa broke through the villagers and shoved the man away from Shasa. The dog licked the Celt’s hand.
Nessa looked down at Shasa, and was momentarily startled. The sailor had gone for an early morning run, and had the dirt and sweat to prove it. But she also had fresh bruises on her face, along with a large lump on her forehead, and a cut under her eye. “Come on, Shasa. Let’s get out of here.”
“No!” Shasa broke the loose grip Nessa had on her arm. “He won’t give me Kirsa!”
“What?”
“Kirsa’s here, and I paid in advance! Now he’s telling these people he doesn’t have her, and doesn’t know what I’m talking about. But he’s lying! She’s in there!”
Nessa pulled her close and quieted her voice. “Ok, I’ll take care of this, Shasa. Alright? You trust me, right?”
Shasa restrained herself with great effort, and nodded.
“I promise I’ll get Kirsa.” Nessa leaned in and whispered. “Did he hit you?”
Shasa’s face contorted, and she shook her head at her large friend. “It’s not your fight, Nessa. It’s mine. Just get Kirsa. Please?”
“Alright. Whatever you say, lass.”
“Break it up! Everyone get moving! Go on! Whaddya looking at?”
Lord Nessa looked up to find Cyrene to be the only one standing in the street, and approaching with obvious concern. “You know how to clear a crowd.”
“They want my ale and food, so they generally try to stay on my good side.” Cyrene reached the couple. “What’ve we got here?” Cyrene lifted Shasa’s chin. “Gods above, Shasa!” Cyrene nodded to Nessa. “I’ll get her back to her room.”
“Can I put Kirsa in your stable with Argo and Tuttle?”
“What a silly question, of course you can. Now go! I’ve got her.”
Nessa nodded, and turned to enter the stable and confront the smithy. Shasa grabbed her arm. “Just get Kirsa. Nothing more, Ness. Promise me you won’t hurt that man.”
Nessa took the hand that had latched onto her arm, and kissed it gently. “I promise. Go with Cyrene, Shasa. I’ll take care of Kirsa, and be right there.”
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**Please note that this chapter contains descriptive discussion of rape; however, I do not believe it to be a true dungeon piece, as there is actually nothing happening in real time to the characters. Please correct me and forgive me, if I’m wrong and have misjudged.**
The dark lord entered the work area of the stable and found the blacksmith hammering a shoe. He looked at her warily, then assumed a disinterested air and returned to work. The warrior moved directly in front of him, and studied him.
He was a big, ugly man, with a fresh cut across his neck. An inch lower, and much deeper, and the man would have been dead. “Are ye a smithy, or a horse thief?” She growled.
The large man placed the shoe back in the glowing embers of a fire. “Listen friend, the small one’s crazy. I never had her horse. Take a look around yourself, if you want.”
The Celt’s gaze remained locked on the smithy. “If you’re making the offer, then I know she’s not here. So, where is she?”
Angry eyes flashed. “I never had her horse! She’s just a crazy bitch!”
You would make me promise. Nessa remained outwardly calm. “I’d appreciate a bit of decency and respect in your choice of words towards the lass.”
The smithy scoffed. “Would you, now?” He pulled the shoe from the fire. “Her kind doesn’t deserve respect.” He picked up his hammer. “She’s a slut.”
Nessa couldn’t help the surprise that flashed across her face. What the Hades is going on here?
The smithy nodded in understanding. “I know you’re just a visitor, so you wouldn’t know who to believe. It’s okay. It’s admirable for you to want to help out a girl that looks so helpless.” He grunted. “But she’s not helpless, she’s nuts. So why don’t you just forget all this nonsense about a horse?” He began to pound the shoe.
Nessa looked confused. “No horse?”
“Nope.”
“And she’s a prostitute?”
The smithy stopped hammering. He looked the large Celt over and grinned, sensing a kindred spirit. “She’s a nice piece of ass. A real good ride, if you’re interested in that sort of thing.”
She might have promised not to hurt this bastard, but she’d do her damnedest to find out what was going on. The warrior crossed her arms over her chest to hide the clenching of her fists. “I’ve never been much on paying for pleasure.”
He laughed and slapped the large Celt’s shoulder in comradery. “Me neither.” He pounded the shoe again. “I’d bet you’re strong enough to take her without too much trouble, though.” He chuckled and shoved the shoe back into the fire. “Watch it though, she’s a fighter.”
Nessa wanted to rip his arm off. “Did she give you that?” Nessa indicated the shallow slice in his throat.
The smithy touched the spot tenderly. “That she did. The bitch pulled a dagger out of her boot.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Would have slit my throat, if I hadn’t looked up just then and stopped her.”
“How’d she get that close?”
The smithy smirked and scratched the stubble on his chin. “Well, I was a bit busy, if you know what I mean.”
Nessa’s stomach turned as she laughed with the vile piece of crap on two legs. “You don’t mean…?”
“Oh yeah, I mean exactly that! I had her tied down, with her legs spread wide, and I was fucking her good!”
Nessa nearly lost it. “And you didn’t notice her reaching into her boot for a dagger?” While shaking her head in disbelief, Nessa noticed an obvious hole in his story. “And how could she even have her boots on with her legs spread wide?”
Nessa stood with arms crossed and eyebrow arched. “I think you’re full of centaur shit.”
“I’m not!” The smithy’s face reddened in anger. “I’ll show you! C’mere!”
The burly man went into the stable area, and led Nessa past all the horses, to the final stall. He gestured to the empty stall. “In here.”
Nessa followed him into a narrow, but otherwise ordinary-looking stall. “And this is supposed to make me believe…what?”
He fumed. “You see this lever?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s set to release sandbags on either side of the stall walls.”
“So?”
“So, you’re standing right where everyone does.”
He pulled the lever, and Nessa heard what must have been the sandbags falling from the rafters. From the straw covered floor, two separate rope snares leapt up and tightened quickly over the warriors boots. Before she could react, they pulled her feet tightly against the stall walls, and she crashed to her back on the ground.
Nessa struggled to move her legs, but found her lower body effectively restrained. Her arms were free, but she had limited movement of her torso. The Celt was enraged. “Let me up, or I’ll cut your bloody heart out!”
“Hey! Simmer down! I’m not gonna hurt you. But this system of mine’s hard to appreciate unless you get a demonstration.”
The dark lord tried hard to calm herself. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and she felt frighteningly helpless and vulnerable—two things that the warrior always avoided. Her natural inclination was to imagine Shasa lying here only a candlemark before, but that image just made Nessa want to beat the monster to a bloody pulp, and for now, she needed to keep her senses.
The Celt deepened her breathing and focused on relaxing, until she was somewhat calm. The smithy obviously wanted her to like his contraption, so she proceeded from there. “You’re right, the design is brilliant.”
“Thank you!”
Nessa turned her head from side to side. “Okay, I can see how this works, but I would think that having the girl’s arms free is an obvious flaw in design—especially with that cut of yours. Why don’t you have wrist restraints as well?”
“I do!” The man stepped carefully over the warrior and squatted next to her head. “See this rope tied at the base of the stall door?” He scowled. “Well, it’s probably hard to see from down there. But basically, I just grab their hands and pull them over their head and tie them to the door.” He grinned. “Makes their tits stand out more, too!”
“But the slut today got loose?”
“Yeah, one of her hands, when I was chewing on her tits. I should’ve checked ’em better. I had to knock her around a lot to get her hands tied in the first place. She fought hard, better than any of the others.” He rubbed himself absently and smiled as he recalled his good fortune. “I’ll have to be more careful next time.”
You are so lucky that she made me promise. She set her jaw and continued. “Okay, so last question?”
“Yeah?”
“She was wearing britches when she left here. How’d you take her?”
“Well, you’re right in your thinking, friend. Anyone leaving an establishment without their britches is bound to draw attention!” He chuckled. “But it’s usually not a problem, as most girls wear skirts and dresses, and you just go at it.” He thrust his hips forward to make his point. “But today was a bit of a challenge. Course, that’s what makes it more fun!”
“Aye. But I can’t figure out how you could have done it!”
“Well, I…” He looked around the stall floor and picked up a small dagger that Nessa recognized. “…This one’s the slut’s, but I have one around here as well…” He held the blade lovingly. “I took my dagger and cut three sides of a square, right through the leather at her cunt. Pull back the flap, and whallah! Instant pussy access!” He was obviously pleased with his ingenuity. “Then you just put a stitch in it to close it up when you’re done!”
Knowing that Shasa’s leathers are skin-tight, meant knowing that she was probably cut by this bastard. Nessa swallowed hard and continued the charade.
“And no one ever tries to turn you over to the law?”
“Nah. They’re all too scared or embarrassed. They just clean themselves up and try to avoid a second round with my stallion.” He again grabbed his crotch and chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I bet the first thing that slut does when Cyrene finally leaves her alone, is to sew up them britches.”
Nessa was horrified. The erotic potential of his creation hadn’t been lost on her, but knowing that this man had raped not only Shasa, but many women in this fashion, made her want to gut him on the spot. And had it not been for her promise, she would have done just that. But she had a commitment to honor, so Nessa swallowed her anger as she watched the smithy release her boots from their bonds. She then accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her up.
Nessa led the way back to the blacksmith’s work area. The red-hot poker sorely tempted her. But instead, she thanked the man for sharing his expertise, praised his invention, promised to catch up with him later for drinks—or perhaps other things—and left.
Of course, her interpretation of “other things” varied greatly from his. She envisioned his torture, castration, mutilation, rape and eventual death as part of an entertaining evening.
____****____
**Please note that this chapter contains description of the aftereffects of rape.**
Gabrielle watched from the window as Cyrene helped Shasa walk from the blacksmith’s shop to the inn. Perceptive eyes told her much, but she couldn’t see Shasa’s face until they cleared the doorway.
“Pull out a chair, Gabrielle!”
“Oh, gods.” Gabrielle pulled a chair out and helped the sailor sit down, while Cyrene ran to the kitchen to get water and towels. “You look like shit, Shasa.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.” Gabrielle rubbed Shasa’s bicep affectionately. “Xe’s always ‘fine’ too.”
Shasa smiled in spite of herself. “Would you do me a favor?”
“Anything you name.”
“Cyrene’s help is gonna be the death of me. Would you take me to my room?”
Gabrielle grinned. “Only if you let me stay up there with you until Nessa returns.”
Shasa’s face fell slightly, but at that moment, Cyrene returned to the room fully armed with medical aides, and Shasa quickly agreed to Gabrielle’s terms.
“Mom’s? Shasa really wants to lay down, and asked if I’d take her to her room.” Gabrielle pulled Cyrene aside. “Besides, she’s feeling kind of uncomfortable. I’ll look her over, and ask for help if she needs any medical attention that I can’t give. Is that okay?”
“Certainly, dear.” Cyrene patted the bard’s arm. “If you think that’d be best.”
“Great.” Gabrielle grabbed a towel and dunked it in the water basin, then proceeded to dab at Shasa’s face with it. “Would you take all this stuff up to her room, then, while I help her up?”
“Consider it done!” Cyrene declared as she bustled up the stairs.
Shasa watched how easily Gabrielle worked her magic. “Well done.”
“Come on, stand up.” The bard helped the sailor to her feet. “Now lean on the table for a minute, while I check…damn…Hold on a second, Shasa. I have to clean this up.”
Shasa did as she was told, and watched as Gabrielle took the damp towel and cleaned the spots of blood off the chair. “Okay, put your arm over my shoulder, and let’s go.”
Shasa just stared at the beautiful blonde.
Gabrielle sighed and grabbed Shasa’s arm and slung it around her own neck. “Come on! Walk now, talk later—unless you want to have this conversation with Cyrene.”
Shasa leaned on the offered shoulder and silently walked with her self-appointed medic to her rented room. Once there, and the door was shut, Shasa fell onto the bed in relief. The bard sat beside her.
Shasa was direct. “So have I avoided the fry pan by making a deal with the fire?”
“I hope you don’t see it that way.”
Shasa sighed and closed her eyes. “What do you want for your silence?”
The leg resting against her hip stiffened, and Shasa opened her eyes to find an unpleasant expression on the bard’s face. “Insult me like that again, and I might add a few stripes of my own to your growing list of bodily damage.”
Shasa’s face was unreadable for several heartbeats. Slowly, a grin played at the edges of her mouth. She cleared her throat. “My dear, with that kind of incentive, I just might take you up on that offer and insult your integrity again.” Shasa grimaced. “When I feel a bit better, that is.” She closed her eyes briefly. “But for now, I apologize from the bottom of my heart.”
Gabrielle’s concern for her charge overpowered her need to win, and she switched mental gears. “Alright, Shasa, enough of this. Tell me what your injuries are.”
“My head hurts, my face hurts, and then there’s what you obviously already know.”
The bard began to untie the laces of Shasa’s shirt and britches. “Is that it? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, Gabs…sure.”
The unexpected liberty that Shasa took with her name caused Gabrielle to look up from her task. She saw the sailor nodding off to sleep. “Hey! Stay awake, Shasa!”
“I’m ‘wake.” Shasa murmured.
“Shit.” Gabrielle switched from removing laces to trying to wake the sailor up. “Wake up, Shasa!”
The distinct sounds of laughter being choked down could now be heard, and Gabrielle stopped to see if her ears had deceived her. Shasa’s chest began to vibrate, and soon, she completely cracked up.
“You’re impossible.” Gabrielle growled, as she returned to untying Shasa’s laces.
“How could you possibly believe that I’d allow myself to conk out while YOU are undressing me!” Shasa teased.
“Your lashes are adding up!” Gabrielle remarked with a grin.
“Promises, promises.” Shasa retorted, as she secretly wondered if Nessa was able to keep hers.
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