Sadice

I thought I was over her, until she rode into town with her company of one hundred and fifty men.

Arden had aged since the last time I saw her. A scar ran down one side of her face, and her hair had a white streak where the scar disappeared up into her scalp. There were lines where there had been none, and her normally quiet face kept a slight frown in place as if it belonged there.

But I would know those eyes in any crowd.

Steel grey and flinty when she was mad, I had seen her pin a drunk soldier to the ground with them, and keep rowdy subordinates in line with a glance.

She was a captain now. I wasn't surprised. Only a sargeant when I met her, we had both known she was meant to do more. Be more.

That was why I had let her go.

*****

When I had first glimpsed her riding at the front of her men toward the center of town, I had spun around and frozen in place, shot through with a fear and hunger so fierce it almost brought me to my knees.

Arden. My heart. My soul. Eight years… She had survived. She probably wouldn't remember me.

We had met near the beginning of the war. Her battalion was stationed in our town, and while the war wasn't too bad yet, the soldiers had laughed and danced and spent money. Arden had been young and fresh and full of quiet passion. We made love as young people do, with abandon and without a care in the world.

The war got ugly. And vicious. And inhuman. Our soldiers came back from the front lines bleeding and missing limbs and dead. The light left their eyes. After six months, our soldiers became hard and vicious themselves. And Arden…

Arden became distant.

I cringed as I recalled my own fear and horror, and how I had clung to Arden when she visited from the front. She had tried. I know she had. But her anguished eyes and shaking hands still haunted my dreams.

*****

I kept myself busy that first day the Company was in town, hoping to avoid both Captain Arden and my feelings. I helped unload the supplies they brought, and got underfoot in the kitchen until Cook shooed me out with a curse.

Jaden laughed at my inability to focus, assuming a general swoon over the young and virile company, and sent me to pick apples until the call for supper. I barely filled one bushel all afternoon. In the hubbub of everyone getting food and drink, I quietly slipped to the outskirts of town and to my little house.

Relieved to be away from the noise and excitement and the possibility of having to interact with Arden, I gratefully closed my door behind me and set myself a small supper of bread and cheese. Sinking down into my chair, I realized for the first time that my hands were shaking. Taking a long, slow breath, I gently blew it out and willed calm into my body. It took four more deep breaths to still the trembling.

I chastised myself as I ate, wondering why the sight of Arden eight years after we parted would trigger such a dramatic response. Was I terrified of seeing her? Or of her seeing me, staring into my soul with that piercing gaze of hers?

A shiver ran down my spine, but was it from fear or anticipation? I didn't look at that too closely.

Arden had left when her company was reassigned closer to the front lines, which had moved away from my town. Nine months after the soldiers had come, they were gone, taking my heart with them.

Our last night together, Arden had set aside the war and her nightmares, and had been fully present with me, as she hadn't been able to in months. We made love, desperate and passionate love. We talked of what might have been if we had met under different circumstances. We swore our love to each other in this life and the next with tears and an overwhelming sense of fatality.

Arden left before the sun rose. I watched her close the door and go to a war we both knew she wouldn't survive.

*****

That evening passed slowly, and I methodically ground herb remedies in the mortar and pestle, and bagged them for future use. I had healer magic, but herbs supported my magic and sometimes did all the work for me. When the sun finally went down, I collapsed into bed, hoping sleep would take me quickly.

It did not. Anxiety gripped me, clenching my muscles and giving me a headache. After tossing and turning for what felt like half the night, I got up to make soothing tea.

A brisk knock on the door startled me so abruptly, I spilled most of the tea grinds onto the floor. Annoyed with the spillage, but suddenly hopeful my misery would be interrupted by some sick townsperson or soldier needing my ministrations, I quickly went to the door and opened it.

Arden stood there, the moonlight outlining her warriors form, the lamplight illuminating her face. My heart stopped. Here, standing in my doorway, was my soldier woman, in all her sexy, masculine glory, leather armor and sword, muscles and scars, short hair and steel grey, piercing eyes. Those eyes roved my face, taking me in.

Heat rushed to my face, and I stumbled back from the door, making space for Arden to step in. She hesitated.

"Can I come in?" she asked, and her quiet, husky voice carried me back eight years.

"Yes, yes of course," I stammered, and motioned lamely toward the center of my little one room house.

She stepped in, and I swung the door shut behind her. Stepping to the table, I was going to offer her tea, but then remembered the spill on the floor, and suddenly I couldn't find any words at all. I turned to her and found those eyes staring at me, haunted and almost… hungry.

Seeing the burn in Arden's eyes sparked an answering longing in me that stole my breath, and I clasped my hands together to try to collect myself, to find what I was supposed to do or say --

Arden closed the distance between us in a stride, and took my face in her hands, covering my mouth with hers.

Oh! This was what…

Her kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant. Asking permission. My hands slowly went around her neck and tangled in her hair as I leaned in and deepened the kiss. Arden's smell filled my lungs, lighting a fire that raced down my body. She groaned against me as I fisted her hair in my hands, pulling her closer. Her arms wrapped around me, and I lost all track of time and place.

*****

We didn't speak as we divested each other of our clothes. Skin against skin, I reacquainted myself with my heart's love. There were new marks, new scars, but she responded the same way to my touch. Her cries were the same. The way her body shuddered with release was the same. And her touch ignited old but familiar surges in me, and when my release came, it was soul wrenchingly deep. There had never been anyone else but her.

Afterward, we lay together in the darkness, on my single person bed, wrapped in each other's arms. My tears came then, unexpected. Arden held me as great heaves of grief and loss, long buried, bubbled to the surface.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, after they subsided.

She rubbed my arm. "Don't be."

After a moment, she said, "We passed through Jampe on our way to the eastern front, and it had been burned to the ground." She paused, and I felt her struggle to keep her voice even. "I thought you died."

I shook my head against her shoulder. "We had warning. Most of us were gone by the time they came. I relocated here with Jaden."

She nodded, and fell silent again.

I was almost asleep when Arden stirred and eased herself out from under me. Sitting up, she turned, placed her feet on the floor, and ran her hands over her face. I sat up, and wrapped my arms around her from behind, doing my best to ignore the nasty looking scar that jagged its way from shoulder to waist across her back. The war had been hard on her, and I found myself wondering how much a toll it had taken. Would we be able to be together?

A horrible thought stabbed me. Had she really come back to me, or was this a one time thing? Her next words confirmed my suddenly worst fears.

"I lied to you eight years ago," she said quietly, holding my hands against her chest. "I swore my heart to you."

"Is there someone else?" I asked, fighting back a rising panic.

"Not in this way," she said, turning to me, still holding my hands. "But I swore myself to the king and his service."

I relaxed, dizzy with relief. "I understand that --"

"No." The word came out harshly. She shook her head, squeezing my hands. "You don't. You didn't then, and you don't now."

I studied her, confused. Of course I had known she was sworn to the king. That was why she had gone to war, why she had left. I had known all along, and accepted it. I hadn't been jealous, only heartsick. Arden was a kingswoman, and always would be. It was one of the things I loved about her.

I watched her struggle to find words.

"The war was horrible. Beyond anything I expected to ever experience. There were…" she trailed off, and I saw in her eyes the unbearable things the war had subjected her to. And I saw her put it away and meet my gaze. That broke my heart.

"I haven't come back from the war," she finally said. "I do the next thing. I lead my men. I get up every morning. But in here," she tapped on her temple. "I'm still fighting dragons."

My eyes widened. We had heard tales, but I thought them far fetched. If it was true… 

Arden's grip on my hands grew uncomfortably hot, and I wriggled them. She abruptly let go, and hugged her hands to herself.

"I should go."

Arden stood, and began putting her clothes back on. I watched her dumbly, unable to grasp the import of her words. There had been too many emotional ups and downs today.

"Will you be back?" I finally asked, hating the plaintive note in my voice.

Arden straightened from lacing up her boot and regarded me, that warriors mask back in place. I wilted. My love had come, had revived my heart, and now she was going to break it all over again. All in one night.

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely, her voice breaking. "I saw you in the street this morning, and I had to see you face to face. I didn't mean for it to go further. You have my love. You always have, always will. But the war took my heart. I don't have anything left to give you."

And with those agonizing words, she left me. Again

*****

I didn't sleep the rest of that night. By the time the sun came up, my emotions were so spent, I felt numb and wooden as I rose, dressed, and went to the infirmary to check on my patients. After checking in with all of them, there was nothing left to occupy me there, so I went to find Jaden, who was chopping wood for Cook. He said nothing as I wordlessly began stacking the wood as it fell from the block. We worked in silence until Jaden couldn't hold it in any longer.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "That Captain Arden puts me in mind of a young Sargeant that graced your bed some years ago."

I nodded.

"Seems like you two would be all over each other. Not many have found their lovers since the war. You're both lucky."

I clenched my jaw to keep the tears in, but my vision blurred until I couldn't see the logs to pick them up. Jaden paused, and leaned on his ax, turning his full attention on me. I kept my head down, and fidgeted with the wood in my hands.

"Did she find someone else?"

I shook my head.

"Does she no longer like women?"

A laugh escaped, and my tears spilled over. I looked at him, and his face softened.

"She's still at war," I said.

"Ah." Jaden gathered me up, and held me until the tears quieted. "Many soldiers are. She may come around, especially if she's near you."

I shook my head. "She came last night and told me she doesn't have anything to give."

"Right now," Jaden insisted. "Right now she doesn't. The war's only been over a couple months. Things like this take time."

"Maybe." I was still too numb to muster anything but despair.

"I have said it, it is so," Jaden laughed, and pushed me back, gripping me by my shoulders. "Dry your tears, Sadice. Arden is alive. That is something worth celebrating."

I started to shake my head, but he tsked. "While she is alive, there is hope. Reflect on the possibilities, and set aside your moping. Did you do more than talk last night?"

His eyes twinkled, and I couldn't stop the shy smile from my face.

"I thought so." He laughed again. "Go help pick apples, and get more than a bushel this time."

Jaden gently shoved me away, and I went and did as he bade, my heart a tiny bit lighter.

*****

The days slowly rolled into each other, and autumn moved toward winter. The soldiers were here to help rebuild and reinforce defenses, and they set to work with enthusiasm. Trees were cut down and split, half burnt buildings torn down and new walls erected in their place.

Captain Arden had seven towns to oversee, so she was gone more often than she was here in our town. Those days she was here, I kept my distance, my wounded heart unable to bear her presence for long.

I did watch her, though. I watched her interact with her men, guiding more than ordering, encouraging more than disciplining. And they loved her. They worked harder when she was nearby, and spoke of her with respect when she wasn't there. Unbidden, my heart swelled with pride when I overheard them discussing my soldier woman. I had known she would be great.

Stories slowly leaked out from the soldiers as the days passed, time and hard work putting space between them and the war. This company had been with Captain Arden for a year, and they had all been at the final battle at Dragon's Mountain. Shadows fell over every soldier's face anytime Dragon's Mountain came up. They never said much about it, but I gathered they had lost more than three quarters of their company in that one fight, and Captain Arden had done or become something they were all in awe of. None would speak of it directly, but they always fell silent with a grave nod of respect.

I wondered about it, and spent countless hours debating possibilities with myself. I finally decided she must have single handedly slain the dragon herself. Although as more stories came out, I learned there had been multiple dragons, so my theory had holes.

I slowly became accustomed to Arden's distant presence, and as the days grew colder and our harvest slowed, I found myself finding reasons to edge closer to her when she was in town. The first time our eyes met by the bakery shop that was being rebuilt, I felt like I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, and my cheeks burned bright red for most of the afternoon.

The second time it happened, my cheeks still burned, but I stared right back. Arden looked away first, and somehow, I felt like I had won.

Two days later, I was unprepared when Captain Arden strode into the infirmary, dragging a private in by the collar.

"Healer Sadice," she said, "would you be so kind as to take a look at Private Goff's leg? He sliced it open two days ago and, for some reason I cannot fathom, did not come to get it tended."

I stood from my desk as calmly as I could, and motioned to the treatment room. "Right this way."

"I never liked healers," Private Goff muttered, but a gentle shove from Captain Arden propelled him into the room, and he placed himself on the table. Arden folded her arms on her chest, and leaned against the door frame to watch.

Doing my best to ignore her, I put my full attention on Private Goff, who glared at me.

"What's your beef with healers?" I asked him, hoping to set his mind at ease and gain some trust before tending to his wound.

"Never did us much good during the war," he growled. "Timid as chickens, the whole lot of them."

I cringed inwardly. The guild of healers hadn't approved of the war, and had often outright refused to go into the battlefields, and sometimes even refused to heal injured soldiers.

"I don't have any use for healers," Goff muttered at me.

I took a deep breath. "I can certainly understand how you feel. But I personally helped any soldier that came to me during the war, and --"

"Did you go to the front lines?" Goff interrupted. "Did you heal those who might've lived if you --"

"That's enough," Arden broke off Goff's rising rant. "Be quiet and let Sadice help you."

"I don't want her help. I'm fine," Goff grumbled.

I motioned to his leg. "May I look?"

He opened his mouth to refuse me, but after a glance at Arden, he snapped it shut, and nodded once at me, frowning furiously. I gently lifted back his pants leg, and the slight hiss from him told me some of his anger was fueled by pain. The cut wasn't wide, but it was deep. Touching the skin beside it, I sent my magic into him, seeking out the rot I could smell and the damaged tissue. Closing my eyes, I let the magic hum and vibrate, and in moments, the cut was closed, and a pink line had taken its place.

Another discordant vibration snagged my attention, and through my magic, I realized Goff's hand had been broken a few months ago, and had healed wrong. Concentrating, I wrapped my magic around the crushed bones in his hand, and eased them back into place. I felt Goff stiffen as the bones moved, and then relax as they aligned and snugged into place.

Opening my eyes, I examined the scar briefly, and then his hand, pleased with the magic's work. I glanced up at Goff's face and saw grudging relief there, if not a measure of forgiveness.

"This doesn't make up for all the others," he said.

I shook my head. "Nor should it. Let me know if it continues to bother you."

I straightened, and Goff hopped to the ground. He tested his leg, and flexed his hand, staring at it curiously. He didn't smile, but the frown lost some of its venom. He glanced at Captain Arden and nodded.

"I'm ready to get back to work, Captain."

She nodded at him, and moved to let him pass. He left without a backward glance. I expected Arden to go with him, but she leaned again against the door frame.

"I have a number of soldiers with injuries that you could heal," she said. "Bones that could be set right, buried shrapnel…"

I nodded mutely. She shifted her weight.

"They won't come to you, but maybe you could go to them. Offer to help. What you did here today with Goff might soften them up."

I met her eyes. "What about you?"

She blinked as if it hadn't occurred to her. I moved closer to her, holding my breath. Reaching out slowly, I touched her arm, and released my magic. She held perfectly still.

Magic raced into her almost pulling me with it, and my breath caught as the power in me tangled with something in her, and surged through us both, burning deliciously through my veins. It was strong and sweeping and hot and threatened to overwhelm me. I sagged against Arden, and she caught me and pushed me down into the table. She leaned over me, one hand trapping my arm above me, the other braced against the table, my legs wrapped around her waist. She was pushed against me, her hips digging into my inner thighs, and her lips parted, inches above mine, panting as if she had run here from the next town over. Her black eyes raked over my face, intense with lust and possession.

Her hand on mine burned me, and magical power coursed through us as if we were one, building and building, until I thought it would burst from both of us. I groaned, gripping her hand harder, my body arching up into hers.

Her lips closed, and her jaw clenched, and she closed her eyes, dropping her forehead onto mine. I wanted a kiss, and tilted my head to reach for her mouth, but she turned away, eyes still closed. Slowly, the heat in her hand cooled, and with it some of the heat and power in my body lessened. When she lifted her head and opened her eyes, they were steel grey again, and her warrior mask was in place.

She let go of my hand and slowly, achingly, backed up until I was sitting on the table, and she was a pace back from me.

"I'm sorry."

"What was that?" I asked, almost swooning from the rush of it. I braced my arms against the table to keep from toppling. "What was that burning… power?"

I tried to focus on her. "I don't remember you having magic."

"I didn't," she said quietly. "It's a recent development."

"Recent?" It just popped out. "From the battle with the dragons?"

Arden went, if possible, more still, her tight composure tightening a notch more. I stared at her.

"What happened that your men never talk about? Is this," I motioned to our hands, "part of it?"

Arden could have been carved of stone, for all she moved. She hardly even breathed.

I began to see a glimmer of hope. If that was all… I slid off the table, and took a shaky step toward her. She took a step back. I stopped.

"I can help," I said softly. "I can help you learn to control it."

She shook her head. "I can control it. Mostly. It's not just that."

"What else?" I strove to keep the eagerness and desperation from my voice. Maybe Jaden was right. Maybe she just needed time to heal, to learn about who she was now.

Arden folded her arms across her chest, and studied the floor with unnecessary concentration. She opened her mouth, and took a breath, then closed it. She turned as if to go, glanced at me, and then left the room without a word.

I stared at the empty gap in the doorway she had filled, until the sun went down.

*****

I did as Arden suggested and, in the days that followed, made friends with her soldiers, and offered them relief from old battle wounds. Goff's grudging encouragement helped, and as word of my gift and willingness to help spread, I soon had soldiers seeking me out. After all the soldiers in my town were made better, Captain Arden offered an escort to the other six towns to help the soldiers there. So it was that I spent two weeks traveling the nearby towns, healing as I went.

By the time I returned, I was exhausted and spent, but Jaden didn't let me rest more than a day. Harvest Feast was upon us and, healer or not, he needed help.

For two days I helped Cook in the kitchen, chopped wood, hung decorations, dragged supplies across town, and did anything Jaden requested until I fell into bed, and slept the sleep of the dead until his pounding on my door woke me the next morning at dawn.

Feast Day arrived bright and unseasonably warm, giving us a last pleasant day before winter set in for good. Small and hardy wildflowers waved gently in the nearby fields, and I spent the afternoon picking and arranging them for the long lines of tables we had set out the day before. As the sun started its descent back to earth, townsfolk and soldiers began to gather around the great bonfires Jaden had built, and food began to appear on the tables. Before long, everyone was crowded into the town square, eating, laughing, and telling wild stories. Music struck up from a corner, and as the sun sank low, dancing filled the square and spilled out into nearby streets.

I watched the revelry from a corner of the square, a plate of delicious food balanced on my knees. I munched contentedly and almost dozed, lulled by warmth, good food, and the good natured laughter all around me.

I caught a glimpse of Arden from the corner of my eye, and turned my head to watch her, suddenly more awake. She stood in her familiar casual stance, arms folded, leaning her shoulder against a building. She watched her men with an air of maternal long suffering, a rare half smile on her face as they danced and challenged each other's manhood for the sake of laughing onlookers.

The night darkened and firelight flickered over the merriment. The dances became more organized, and soon everyone was pulled in, dancing in concentric circles to the ever quickening music. Jaden and Cook found me and pulled me in, laughing and ignoring my protests. I didn't protest too hard. I had always loved the dances, and they knew it.

Before long, I was lost in the quick movement, stamping, clapping, twirling, and gasping for breath in between shouts of laughter and "more, more". Weaving the intricate steps, my exhaustion melted away, and I forgot my heartache. Summer had been good to us. The war was over. We were alive, and filled with hope for the future.

In the midst of it all, I became aware of Arden being pulled into the dance by her soldiers. My heart skipped a beat. She danced with us, and I was surprised she knew the steps, turning and stomping her feet, and clapping her hands right in time. Partners changed, and changed again, and before I knew it, Arden was there, dancing with me. Her grin at me lit my insides from top to bottom. Here she was, the woman I had known, smiling down at me, twirling me in a circle, taking my breath away.

The song ended, and shouts for more filled the air, but I didn't hear them, still standing in Arden's arms, caught by her smiling gaze. 

Thunder rumbled, and Arden looked up, breaking the spell. Only I didn't want it to end. Grabbing her hand, I pulled Arden to the closest alley, and pulled her to me. She caught my hands in hers, and when I looked up into her face I found… love. And awe. And tenderness. And a vulnerability that shook me to my core, and left me trembling all over.

I reached up, and touched her face. She bent her head, and claimed my lips with hers, owning me body and soul. Her arms wrapped around me in that strong embrace pulling me into a kiss that was deep, and tender, and everything I wanted it to be.

Thunder rumbled again, closer this time, and Arden pulled away. I leaned toward her, wanting, needing more, but she pushed me back gently.

"I can't do this," she said, barely whispering.

I stared at her, bereft and unbelieving. "What do you mean, you can't? Why not?"

Lightning struck the building right across the street from us, deafening, and making us both jump a foot in the air. Arden grabbed me, and pulled me down into a crouch, her body covering mine protectively as she swivelled her head in every direction, her breath coming in short, heavy gasps. Her grip on my shoulder was painfully tight, but I didn't protest as I watched her draw her sword, every muscle in her body taut with battle awareness.

"This way," she whispered in my ear, and guided me down the alley, away from where the lightning had struck.

Shouts of fire emerged from the town square, and as we came out of the alley on the far end of the street, Arden put her sword away and straightened, pulling me up beside her. Tension lined her face, and when she glanced at me, I saw that cursed warriors mask was firmly back in place.

A soldier ran by, heading toward where the lightning had struck, and Arden put out a hand to stop him. He skidded to a halt and saluted her.

"An attack?" Captain Arden asked tersely.

He shook his head. "Just the storm rolling in, sir. Unlucky strike."

She nodded. "As you were. I'll be there shortly."

He ran off.

"I need to help with the fire," she said, not looking at me, as if we hadn't just been kissing.

Anger seared through me. How many times would she respond to me, and then turn me away? 

I nodded. Then I turned and left, before she could see the tears in my eyes. I blindly stumbled home, resentment building with every step.

The rain came shortly after I made it to my little house, but it did little to soothe my anger. Instead, it grew until I was punching my pillow and screaming at it. Finally, I collapsed against it, and sobbed as I hadn't since the night she first left me eight years ago. Loneliness twisted inside me, eating through me with that old familiar acid.

I had known I would never see her again. War was terrible and deadly. Most never came back. Yet here she was, desirable as ever, and as unreachable as if she were still on the battlefield. I knew war changed people. But this was agony, to have her, and yet not. All I wanted was her love and touch. She had given me a taste, glimpses of both. Why did she keep pulling back?

I punched the pillow again.

A knock sounded at my door, and I almost didn't go to it. I knew it would be her. I was too angry, too hurt, and she was just too…

I got up, and went to the door. I opened it, and she stood there, dripping wet in the rain, so sexy it hurt, her eyes full of apology.