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The Truce by Eternal_red
 
Chapter 12
 
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Watching a drowsy Buffy being led away by the mistress of the inn, Spike frowned a little - should be me doing that - but Anjell was still very much present and besides, he really didn’t know where he stood with her right now. The punch on the nose had smarted, yes, but seeing Buffy angry and hurt after discovering his trickery left him twisting in guilt.

There was relief too.

So determined not to be controlled himself, Spike hadn’t considered how she would feel if their positions were reversed. Deep down he was glad he’d failed. She’d handled it well too, had to give her that, plus, it hadn’t prevented her from joining the expedition.

Anjell might think she was there as an interfering wife, but Spike had learned quite a bit from his conversations with Buffy, enough to recognise a soldier in search of a mission, one with an eagerness for adventure. A bit like himself.

Fully expecting an extended lecture, he was relieved when other officers began to gather round to discuss the campaign ahead. A local tracker named Fell, had information and his report was grim. A tall angular figure with weather-beaten features, he looked uncomfortable under so much scrutiny. A large shaggy creature hopped up on the bench with him, fixing them with intelligent yellow eyes. Seemingly satisfied, it lowered its head onto massive paws and promptly fell asleep.

“Was in the north-most territories, hunting down a pair of Polggarus. Stupid needle fisted critters they was, but dangerous with it, taking down wool-backs and stray villagers alike. My wulf pup, Jak, caught up with their scent and we headed up Twisted Pass to find their lair. Found more than that when we got there. Never seen such a mess, both were dead…no, not dead, ripped to pieces. Them bone skewers they have, broke off and stuck in their eyes. Ribs snapped open, all scooped out and eaten up. Even Jak wouldn’t touch what was left. We got curious as to what could do such a thing, so we carried on and kept it cautious, just in case.”

The tracker stopped for a moment as if summoning up the right words, gazing into the middle distance as he recalled the scene.

“We went further than was comfortable really, bein’ so close to the Ashlands, but Jak had gone red-eye on me and I knew that he would go it alone if he had to. Besides, knew whatever could do such harm would be even worse for us than Polggarus in the long run. Was another day before the trail ended and we saw them... Monsters, three of them, straight out of a feary-tale.

"I knew what they was, from shivering at my Naa’s knee when just a scrap, listening to her tell how the goddess herself had sacrificed all to destroy the nameless one and how the wicked army of Terr-Khan had been struck down, killing the land with their remains.

"They were arguing amongst themselves, all grunt and growl as they knocked each other about. Would have left then, no point in getting killed, but then we heard a crying and whimpering. Jak and me settled in to watch and eventually the Terr-Khan left camp, heading east. It didn’t look like they were coming back.

"We climbed down, but by then the cries had stopped. We found him lying in the bushes. They’d captured a Gemhunter, could tell that by his pigtail and those stupid ear-rings they always wear and, normally, I wouldn’t give spit to help one of those grave-robbing pricks if they was on fire, but this was harsh even for them.”

The wulf, responding to his master’s indrawn breath, raised his great head and stretched out a little so that he could rest it on Fell’s lap, gazing up until the tracker absently began to scratch him behind one ear.

“They’d pulled out his guts and stretched them out in all directions. Weighted the ends down with stones, as if he was going anywhere after that. Thought the poor soul had gone to the great Beyond, but no, his eyes fluttered open and he just looked grateful to see me. A healer might have been able to stuff him back together, but we both knew we’d not get to one in time. All I could offer was a quick death.

"Before I gave him peace, he told me that the Terr-Khan had questioned him - seems they do have a rough idea of our language. Wanted to know where to find Saya’s Axe, which is ridiculous I know, and of course the Gemhunter had no answers. Was very important to them though.

"Look, I’m sorry not to have more, but we both need our sleep; been a long few days it has. Be pleased to take you back there if you want, soon as I’m rested.”

Anjell rose and shook the Aurelian’s hand firmly.

“Of course, Fell, and thank you for this information. It’s extremely valuable. I’ll have troops ready tomorrow; you and your wulf can guide them. They’ll capture, or, if not, kill these creatures before they take any more lives.”

Once the tracker and his furry companion had loped off in search of a good night’s sleep, Anjell brought the group up-to-date with other events. He spread out a large map of the region along the table, punctuating his words with jabs of his finger along the detailed parchment. The others gathered round, eager to take in the unfamiliar place names written in florid calligraphy.

“Until now we’ve had five known sightings of Terr-Khan in the south, west and east. If Nesst is behind this then why risk discovery before making an all out attack? No, he’s searching for something important, something he needs. Thanks to Fell we now have an idea of what that is.

"Three sacred places have been destroyed, along with the seers and wise-women who tended to them. Saya’s Axe may be a myth, but where else would such an artefact be kept? Nesst was known to be an expert in ancient history and the dark arts, so what we need now are magicians and scholars of our own. I’ll consult with Droo and the University elders, then some of you are going on a treasure hunt.”

The ample innkeeper had returned with a large silver flagon of fresh blood and some delicate glasses. She poured, and they all paused briefly to give thanks for the life of the animal that fed them. She winked at Spike and gestured upstairs. Anjell, not missing a thing, resumed talking.

“Captain Zander and his men are heading north across the Ashlands to find the old city ruins. They’ll try to establish how the portal there was breached and whether we have an army to contend with. Cordella the Seer is with them to hide their presence and will close the way in to Aurelia if she can.”

Spike snickered. “Terr-Khan and Cordella? Poor Zander!”

Ignoring him, the general rose up from the table. “Well, I for one am going to make the most of an actual bed. Spike, you can share my room. I insist.”

Recognising defeat when he saw it, Spike huffed and followed his infuriating leader, and sometimes, best friend, up the stairs.

***

Morning arrived on the shrill rattle of curtain rings. Buffy blinked at the sudden light as a figure bustled over to where she was lying, an untidy halo of wispy red hair revealing the innkeeper of the night before. A large folded towel made a soft whoomph as it hit the bedspread and the grinning woman gestured for her to get dressed, clucking disapprovingly at the grass stained state of her weather protection suit as Buffy struggled into it.

They tiptoed quietly downstairs; the room of the night before was deserted, all evidence of the hall’s previous occupants swept and scrubbed away. Following the woman through a small door, Buffy found herself in a large courtyard. A narrow building studded with doors lay on the right and at the centre of the space was a circular structure about twenty feet across, the roof covered in dense thatch held down by large stones tied within a net of thick rope. The only entrance was at the end of a short tunnel attached to the dome. Retrieving the towel from Buffy’s arms, the innkeeper, who finally introduced herself as Flo, delved into a pocket of her skirts before producing a small hand-carved toothbrush and a twisted leaf. She then pushed her firmly towards the outbuildings.

Unsurprisingly, Buffy found another earth-closet, a stone sink, a jug of fresh water, and a highly polished metal mirror, which gave her reflection a soft ethereal quality. Strangely, the room was quite warm. The unwrapped leaf held a fine powder which, when wetted, made a passable toothpaste. Feeling fresher, she rejoined Flo and entered what turned out to be a bath-house. Throaty female singing filtered through an inner door, something about a soldier with a wondrous big sword? Buffy was used to having little privacy but she drew the line at communal bathing so crossed her fingers. Stripping quickly, she was mildly alarmed when Flo snatched up her dirty clothing, leaving her wearing only the towel. Bracing herself, she pushed open the inner door, hesitating when a wave of heat hit her.

“Eww, shut the door, you’re letting all the cold in.”

Hastening to obey, Buffy peered through the foggy air, trying to see the owner of the voice. At the centre of the space stood a column of black and white flecked granite, steaming water bubbling down from its top. Three shallow dishes encircled the fountain, each larger than the last as it overflowed. Finally, a collection of scaled creatures carved from serpentine lay open-mouthed at its base, endlessly spitting water into narrow channels. These in turn radiated out like the spokes of a wheel to feed a dozen small oval pools.

The floor was beautiful. Lapis and turquoise tiles formed a circular geometric design, its formal lines interwoven with representations of leaping fish, eels and other finned things, picked out in pearly white marble. This was a special place, lovingly cared for and very old. As her eyes adjusted Buffy could make out several forms reclining in the water – one to each bath, all were female. Moving forwards she slipped and nearly fell. The owner of the husky singing voice spoke.

“Walk on the diamonds, shellhead, unless you want to mash that pretty face on the floor - though it might be fun watching you go tit over twat.”

Sure enough, Buffy felt little raised bobbles under her toes where the diamond patterns ran. A high-pitched giggle came from further away.

“Faythee, stop with the mean. She’s only human, not clever like us,” pausing she addressed Buffy slowly and loudly. “Welcome, earthling, this is where we wash to get clean…um… do you know what a bath is?”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy now stood between two women; both were splashing languidly and eying her with naked curiosity. An empty pool lay between them.

“Ignore the daft cudder, her brain has slipped between her legs and she’s had all sense banged out of her. Name’s Faythe, not Faythee, and she’s Harmonee,” she said, stressing the last syllable with a deliberate whine.

“Oh, you!” Harmonee huffed and pouted, folding her arms under generous breasts only to disappear under the surface with a gurgle. Coming up spluttering, she cast an irate look at her cackling companion, patting at her now sodden hair. Harmonee was blonde with rounded cheekbones and pretty blue eyes. Faythe was also curvy, but she had thick dark hair that crinkled in the moist heat; sloe eyes appraised Buffy under thick black lashes, full lips widening into a big smirk.

“So this is the lucky creature who gets a Spike for life. Nice going girly.”

“Oh yes,” chimed in Harmonee, “congratulations! You know if you need any tips about what makes Spikey really growl then you only have to ask.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Buffy ground out, not wanting to dwell on the implications of that statement.

Purposefully dropping the towel, she lowered herself onto the lip of the pool. Harmonee was contorting her head trying to see around her.

“What!” Buffy snapped.

“Oh nothing.” Harmonee tried for innocence but failed. “It’s just that I thought humans had tails and furry feet.” She looked disappointed. Buffy closed her eyes, counting to ten as she sank into the blissfully hot water, fully prepared to ignore her irritating companions and bathe her cares away. A dish containing soaps and glass-stoppered bottles was within easy reach… perfect.

Despite her reservations, Buffy found herself quite liking these women as the peaceful warmth seeped into her bones. Both liked to chat and each had a very different outlook on life. Harmonee was with the army to give pleasure to the soldiers, and, most definitely, to get some back for herself. She helped out around camp when she wasn’t picking and choosing her company for the night - usually an officer or an unusually fine specimen from the ranks. She was the acknowledged queen among the ‘comforters’ and, though expressing a wish to settle down one day, Harmonee was in no rush.

Faythe also enjoyed her sexual liaisons, but she was also one of the rare Aurelian women who also enjoyed ‘a bit of violence’. An able fighter - even Harmonee confirmed this - she led a group of six doting males on small missions devised by Anjell to keep her out of his hair.

Both women shared a sense of adventure that Buffy guessed was a world away from the civilized life enjoyed by most of their society. Women in the army could also be healers, cooks or menders, while others kept the armoury oiled and sharpened, fletched arrows, dispensed beer and spirits and sang sad songs for the dead and dying. Males had to look after their personal weapons, and uniforms, hunt for food and set up the tents and go to war.

As if reading her mind Faythe leaned across to face Buffy.

“So,” she drawled, “have you chosen yet?”

“Chosen?”

“Do you want to keep the campfires burning and make sure your honey and his mates are fed and watered, or do you want to fight demons?”

The answering gleam in Buffy’s eyes was all the answer she needed.

***

Back in the changing room, Buffy found her clothing had been replaced by a worn but spotlessly clean outfit of snug suede pants in dove, a heavy cream woollen shirt that came to mid thigh, and a long grey coat lined with a thin layer of incredibly soft fur. The coat had been carefully mended and the shirt sleeves were too long, but with the cuffs turned over Buffy almost felt like a native. She suspected that she was wearing clothes that Flo’s son had outgrown. Thankfully her boots were still there, now with a pair of long fluffy red socks poking out from their tops.

Harmonee and Faythe got dressed alongside her. Harmonee squeezed into a pink gown with a low, tight bodice, before fastening a heavy cloak about herself. It was bright red with black fur trim, the silver clasp shaped like a unicorn. Faythe’s outfit was all business with a side order of sex. In black from head to toe, she wore skin tight yet flexible leather pants, a short fitted jacket and sturdy boots, the only hint of colour was red laces that were doing a poor job of securing the shirt across her bosom. Buffy wondered if they were both prone to chest colds.

Slinging a black cloak across her arm, Faythe opened the outer door, gesturing for the others to go through.

“Don’t know about you but I could eat a scabby werewolf. Breakfast awaits.”

As they entered the hall a group of males were waiting for them impatiently. “About time,” someone muttered as they trooped past into the freezing morning air.

“Nice outfit.” Spike’s amused eyes met Buffy’s as he slipped by with the others. She blushed before remembering that she was still mad and pointedly ignored him. With a little sigh, Spike hesitated then left.

***

Her stomach filled with sweetened porridge, biscuits peppered with raisins and dried fruit, and cinnamon flavoured kush, Buffy felt pretty good. Once Harmonee had left to prettify herself and rescue her hair, Faythe recounted the news of the night before, including Fell’s encounter with the Terr-Khan and the hunt for Saya’s Axe. A strange feeling ran through Buffy at this, and she knew somehow that this was important news. It was odd how the legendary warrior kept cropping up.

Faythe clicked her fingers, bringing Buffy out of her musings.

“You still with me?”

“Um, yes, sorry, what were you saying?”

“Just that if you want some action while Anjell is examining his toenails and waiting for his spies to report back, then I have a little mission planned for today. Are you up for it?”

Grinning at her sister-in-arms, Buffy readily answered.

“Count me in.”

***
 
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