2565 A.D.!
A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN
By Jerome B. Bigge
Book Two
Chapter Twenty
(Darlanis' version)
"Like to go visit Lorraine?" I asked Sharon as I watched
Sarnian Lady being dragged up into dry dock. We had limped into
Trella in the early morning hours, under oars, listing, heavy in
the water, an obviously defeated ship. Word was already spread
all over Trella of what had happened. Encouraging those who as-
pired that Trelandar should be free of the Empire I had so care-
fully built up over the years! That it should even have its own
"Queen" once again, Lorraine now being the one usually mentioned.
People were sick and tired of this War, of the pirates that grew
like weeds off its fertile ground! I supposed my rescue of the
slave girl would help a bit in countering some of the hatred di-
rected against me. Tales of that were already spreading as sail-
ors repeated the tale in the various waterfront dives to which
they had scattered once Sarnian Lady had made port and there was
no further need for them to remain all on board any longer.*
* The reader will note that at this point there was already con-
siderable talk of making Lorraine Duval "Queen of Trelandar" even
as far as Trella and some points further south. You will note in
Lorraine's story that she does not mention hardly anything about
this until later on. This is, I suppose, her way of making the
story seem more "exciting" or something than if she had admitted
at the very beginning that she was now the Queen of Trelandar. I
will say for her, however, that as you will see she did not enjoy
becoming Trelandar's Queen knowing the effect that it would have
on me. We have a very close relationship, and I do think very
"highly" of her regardless of how she has been "used" by others.
"We need to talk," Sharon said, drawing me to one side, my
warrioresses and men holding back the curious who had collected.
There was always the danger of crossbowmen. I had grown used to
the thought that at any moment I might feel a crossbow bolt rip-
ping into my body. That I might be able to verify for myself
whether what the Priestesses of Lys taught was true or not. The
sun was hot upon my back, burning through the silken cape I wore.
"I'm afraid for you," Sharon said to me in soft tones, look-
ing up into my eyes. "You're just too `good', too `decent', too
`nice' to know what could happen if you ever `cross' my stepmoth-
er's `path'." Her words made me smile a bit. I am not the "an-
gel" that Sharon thinks of me. I am a "user", a person who
"uses" others to get what she wants out of life. I suspect that
Sharon sees only what she wants to see. She does not understand
how I use my body, my beauty, my position to get what I want from
people. That I wear the clothing I do for a very good reason. I
know men. Know their "weaknesses". Know that a man looking up
underneath my skirt when I sit on my golden throne before him is
a man who can't think of anything but what lies between my legs!
That is why the only people who have ever been successful in op-
posing me have been women. Men can only think of fucking me! Of
"lying between my thighs" as we say here in the 26th Century. I
dreaded the day when Sharon would learn the truth about me. That
"truth" that I suspected Lorraine Duval already well understood!
"Your stepmother is a good `friend' of mine. We have stood
together in battle," I smiled back. Yet I understood what she
was referring to. What I dreaded myself to think about. My
skill with a sword, while awesome, was not I knew the "match" of
hers! I knew too of Lorraine's moods, the shortness of her tem-
per. She was a woman that I admired, but yet in a way feared. I
wondered if that was why I had pushed her off onto the former Da-
ris estates as I had. Hoping that she would succumb to a life of
ease. Keep out of "politics". It was obvious now she had not!*
* I did not of course know about Sanda Talen's role in things...
"You're afraid of her. What she could become," Sharon an-
swered in soft tones. I had heard the stories told. References
to "a second Janet Rogers". Lorraine was capable, competent. I
feared more so than me. She would not have allowed the Janis to
find us there in the darkness. That too had been spoken when
they had thought I would not hear. Sarnian Lady was my flagship.
To many Jon Richards had won a victory over ME! I was a "defeat-
ed" ruler who had come limping into Trella like some whipped cur!
I had lost "face" in the eyes of my people. Those whom I ruled.
To many people in Trelandar I represented only "oppression", the
"rule" of Imperial Lords and Ladies over a once "free" people. I
had no doubt that Lorraine might appear to such people as being
"the second Janet Rogers" that would free them from all of this!!
Her ideas of "economic democracy" were something "revolutionary"!
The concept of Syndicalism being something known only to Scribes.
I understood what Sharon feared, but there was little that I
could do about it. My sister Janis had once admitted to me be-
fore her tragic death that she had hoped Queen Tulis would make
Lorraine Duval the Warlady of Dularn. I wondered if I had made a
mistake in not doing the same with Lorraine although I still re-
called when I had hinted of such things what she had said to me
in reply. Saw that hostility in her eyes. Still recalled that
quotation from the Bible about being "put in the forefront of the
battle" she quoted standing there before me, her hand on the hilt
of her sword. Saying that I wanted her killed and out of the
way. That she represented too much of a "danger" to me to live!
"I love you so much," Sharon whimpered, her azure eyes glis-
tening now with tears as she moved into my arms. "I'm afraid for
you," she sobbed against my shoulder. I held her close, feeling
her tremble against me. I wondered what to do about Lorraine. I
would have to face her sooner or later. We would go and see her.
"It's no more than a hundred miles, Shirl," I said. I want-
ed something more than a little sailboat. The Ronda was fast,
although pirate schooners were faster yet. With any sort of a
breeze we could be off the Lady Lorraine's estates by nightfall.
It would be four days by unicorn, skirting the ruins of Los An-
geles. It was said to be a den of strange beasts and other
"things" never made by Lys. A place where I might ride into to
never return. I had seen the terror in the eyes of my women when
I had even dared suggest it! Such were the superstitions that
unnerved even the bravest of my warrioresses. It made me smile.
"No escort and the Janis is still out there somewhere," the
burly ex-slave girl answered, regarding me. Regarding Sharon as
she stood there beside me, keeping her thoughts then to herself.
"Twenty gold crowns for a day's trip," I answered, hating
myself for what I was doing to the woman. To her own crew, most
of whom were former slave girls like herself who now followed the
sea. Fearing that they might feel the collar of a slave girl
once again locked around their necks should they attempt to make
a life for themselves elsewhere. Many of them like Shirl now
wore swords. I felt their hostility as she considered my offer.
"I was a slave girl once," Shirl said to me in level tones.
"Sixty gold crowns," I snapped back, raising the "ante" even
higher. That is a lot of money here in 2565 A.D. That was all I
had with me without returning to Sarnian Lady. A couple years'
profits for Shirl. She could give each one of her crew a gold
crown and keep the rest for herself and still have enough left to
do anything she wanted to fix up the Ronda. Her passengers had
gotten off to see the sights of Trella while waiting for another
escorting warship to protect them on the rest of their journey.
"It's against my better judgment," Shirl said to me. I hat-
ed myself for what I had done to her. She was an honest woman,
but poor. Sometimes I am not very proud of the sort of person I
am! Of the way I "use" people to gain my own selfish ends!
"Brings back memories?" I asked Sharon as the Ronda took the
rolling swell of the sea, the sails taking the wind well. The
ship was faster than my Sarnian Lady. No doubt faster than the
Janis too. Our only danger was from pirates or the North Wind, a
big Dularnian privateer. Its captain would be delighted if he
could capture me. The reward would no doubt make him a rich man!
"I'm `scared'," Sharon answered, her azure eyes looking up
into mine. Shirl there at the wheel, capable, competent. A
sword there at her hip. She had been taught by Lorraine Duval.
"Shirl says we should be there by nightfall," I assured her.
I felt nervous, vulnerable, "exposed". Why do I take such risks?
Why do I do the things I do? I have sought Lorraine's "profes-
sional advice". She speaks of "complexes", of "inadequacies". I
am, according to her, a woman driven by "doubts" about "herself".
Always seeking to "prove" herself in the eyes of others. Why do
I now put myself "in the forefront of battle"? Dive into flooded
compartments to rescue a mere slave girl at the risk of my own
life? What "motivates" California's golden Empress? I wish I
knew! And why did I take Sharon with me? Expose her to danger!
"My mother never really loved me. I was just `something
that happened' when she forgot to put in her diaphragm and my fa-
ther wouldn't allow her to get an abortion," Sharon said in a
soft voice as I took her in my arms. I knew back in her own time
women could get pregnant by accident, or when they wished, not
like it is today when you have to go to a Priestess for the drug
that allows you to become fertile. That a woman would "abort" a
healthy child, take an innocent young life, horrified me, al-
though it happened frequently enough back then. Lorraine says
that there is no difference in having an abortion or drowning a
bunch of unwanted puppies. She of course can still be a mother.
That privilege is no longer possible for me. I still have my
beauty, my looks, but I am "hollow" inside. My womanhood gone.*
* Darlanis is referring here to her uterus, which I had to remove
to save her life. I never said to her that having an abortion
was like drowning puppies in the way that she puts it here. (LR)
"We're in `trouble'," Shirl spoke, her telescope in her
hand. I saw nothing. I held Sharon in my arms. I was angry at
being "disturbed". This moment was very precious to me. I fear
that I did not for a moment realize the seriousness of the mat-
ter. "There are three topsail schooners coming out from shore."
I had not looked in that direction! Now I could see them too! I
felt the terror clutch at my "royal" heart. THEY WERE PIRATES!
"We will fight," Shirl said. I knew it wouldn't make any
difference. The odds were far more than just the apparent three
to one. More like ten to one or even more! There was no chance!
"You're just making a `target' of yourself wearing that
chain mail and helmet," Sharon said, her voice betraying her as I
slipped the helmet over my golden hair. The Tarl of the Empire
on my helm. There would be no mistaking me for another. I would
die with a sword in my hand. Taking as many of the bastards and
sons of bitches that I could with me to stand in judgment before
Lys. I hoped she would be merciful to me. I asked for no more.
"When we engage slip out the stern windows and swim for
shore," I ordered. Sharon's eyes glowed into mine. I knew that
I would never see her again. Never again speak to her. Hold her
in my arms. For a few far too brief weeks she had been "mine".
I turned my head so that she could not see the tears in my eyes.
Next Chapter
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