Wow. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I posted. I am very sorry. My excuse is chemo. It is really kicking my behind. It is the same chemo I had 4 years ago. My first treatment in mid-July went pretty well. My treatment at the end of July left me very sick and tired and with a horrible headache and a fever. My third treatment was a wreck. I had an allergic reaction. Actually 2 different allergic reactions. They ended up stopping one of the chemo drugs. I had that same treatment 10 times with no real trouble but now my body said “Uh-uh. That’s enough of that, thank you very much.” On Friday when I went back to have the chemo pump removed they gave me a Neulasta shot to build up my white blood cells which were very low. And that was a nightmare of bone pain and fatigue that lasted 8 days. Even now I am exhausted. But tomorrow we’re going to try the same chemo again, but very slowly. I will be there ALL day.

OK, that is enough of whining. OMN to Chapter 5 of the Storm King!

Chapter Five

The camp was a military camp, with thousands of small tents laid out in neat rows over what must be a couple of square miles of trampled grass. How big was the Erabiri army? A large herd of horses grazed outside the camp, watched over by more teenaged boys. They stared wide-eyed at Ashley while they took the horses. Ashley walked in a distinctly un-regal waddle beside Jerriel’s uncle into the camp. It hadn’t been a long ride, but her knees still thought there was a horse between them and were reluctant to touch. The other Erabiri accompanied her through the open lanes that divided the tent city into segments, until they came to a small tent beside a much larger one. Most of the tents they passed were rectangular pup tents, big enough for two men to sleep in, but not tall enough for them to stand in. These two tents were square, and high enough for even a tall man to stand up in. Jerriel’s uncle held the flap of the smaller tent open for her.

“Go in and make yourself comfortable,” he urged. “I will have a healer and food brought for you at once.”

“Thanks.”

Ashley was short enough to not have to duck to enter the tent. It was about eight feet square, and the center pole was at least twelve feet tall. The ceiling sloped to a height of about five and a half feet from the ground at the walls. The furnishings looked comfortable enough, for a tent. A narrow bed, two feet away from the center pole was neatly made with a dark blue wool blanket and a fat pillow encased in snowy white linen. A small table was on the other side of the center pole, with two chairs tucked under it. The canvas tarp floor was covered with a thick rug in swirling patterns of red and blue. At the foot of the bed was a wooden chest. Ashley looked around. Compact. Utilitarian. Saved from boring by the rich colors of the rug.

A voice called from outside. “Lady, may we enter?”

“Come in,” she called.

Jerriel’s uncle came in with another man. “Water is being heated so you can bathe, and food will be brought. This is Healer Moskir.”

Moskir was the oldest Erabiri she had seen. His hair, only down to the tops of his shoulders, was iron gray streaked with silver, held back from his face in two narrow braids over each of his ears. The rest hung loose. His brown face was lined, but he was slender and graceful. And bossy.

“Thank you, Lord Bodiel,” he said dismissively. “I will attend the lady.”

Ah. Jerriel’s uncle was Bodiel. At least in public. Unless he wasn’t part of the royal family. He’d said only the royal family had private and public names. Lord Bodiel made a slight bow and left the tent. The healer advanced on Ashley with firm steps. He was in her face before she realized he’d come so close. She backed up until her butt hit the center tent pole.

“Now then, woman, where are you hurt?” His imperious black eyes ran over her with a barely hidden sneer. She was suddenly aware of her torn and filthy dress, limp hair, and blood-stained shoes.

“My elbow. It’s not broken or anything.”

“I am the healer, not you, so don’t diagnose yourself.”

Geez, his bedside manner could use some work. Most of the doctors Ashley had known had been compassionate. Or at least they hadn’t sneered at her. She almost apologized, but he annoyed her. Not that she was actually Jerriel’s wife or anything, but everyone seemed to accept that she was, so shouldn’t this guy be a little more polite to his king’s wife?

At least his hands were gentle when he took her arm and felt along the joint. “Please sit on the table.”

He pulled out a chair and offered a hand to support her while she stepped up and settled on the table.

“I will need to cut the sleeve.” This time Moskir’s sneer was directed at her gown. “I assume you won’t think it a loss?”

Ashley kicked at the hem of the dress, regretting that the lavish embroidery there had been stained by dirt and blood and torn beyond repair. “Not much can be done to save this, so I guess not.”

Although what she would wear after her bath she didn’t know. Putting the filthy dress back on wouldn’t be nice. She watched while he retrieved a pair of bent scissors and used them to cut through the sleeve from the cuff to nearly the shoulder. The sudden freedom from the tight constricting sleeve was almost painful. She drew a shallow breath to force back a moan. The healer looked at the elbow thoroughly. He carefully bent her arm back and forth. He probed the swollen skin. He pursed his lips while he made low humming noises. She peeked at the elbow and winced at the sight of the deep bruise. She must have been suppressing the pain, or at least ignoring it, because now that she had seen her elbow, it hurt.

“Quite a nasty bruise,” Moskir said, almost gently. “I imagine it is painful. I will make you a sling to support it and I will give you a pain deadener. Add half the powder to a full glass of water. You should drink it after you eat, and then rest. Be sure to drink the full glass. Tomorrow morning you can add the remainder to another glass of water and drink it if needed.”

“Okay.”

The healer opened his pouch again and brought out a long narrow bag full of some orange powder. He carefully tipped out about a teaspoon of it into a small paper cone and twisted the wide end closed. He laid it on the table beside her and retrieved a length of sturdy white fabric from his pouch. He made some cuts and knotted it before looping it around Ashley’s arm and over her neck. He made some adjustments to the fit and then nodded.

“Is that the proper angle for comfort?”

Ashley allowed her elbow to rest fully in the sling without trying to hold the weight herself. “I think it is perfect.”

“Excellent,” he said and offered a hand to help her down from the table. “Remember, half of the pain deadener tonight, and half tomorrow morning. I will come again tomorrow night to check on you.”

“How much do I owe you,” she asked, wondering how she could possibly pay him. Other than this filthy rag of a dress she owned nothing.

For the first time he smiled. “I am employed by the king. Payment is not necessary.”

“Oh, well. Thank you very much.”

He inclined his head, picked up his pouch and left the tent. A moment later a voice called from outside.

“It is I, Danior, with your supper and bathwater. May we enter?”

“Sure.”

Danior turned out to be Lord Bodiel’s son. He led a procession of teenaged boys. One carried a large collapsible tub and got it set up next to the bed. Another half dozen boys paraded in carrying buckets of steaming water they dumped into the tub. Another boy carried a tray with a plate and a ceramic jug which he placed on the small table. Danior laid a towel and washcloth over the back of one of the chairs and put a fist-sized linen bag on the table.

The boys bowed and left, leaving Danior behind. The teenager extended a lean brown hand like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. “Soap, towels and food. Is there anything else you need, lady?”

Ashley looked down at the once-ivory dress. “I need something to put on after my bath.”

Danior’s creamy brown cheeks flushed. Oh dear, was that a risqué thing to say? “M-my cousin the king brought clothing for you,” he managed to say with only a brief break to treble in his voice. He waved at the chest at the foot of the bed. “All that is in there is yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yes, lady. The king brought all this for you. The tent, the clothes, and other things.”

Wow. “Then I guess that’s all I need.”

He bowed. “Just call when you are ready for the bath to be removed.”

The poor kid sped out of the tent like he was afraid she would attack him. Curious, she went over to the chest and opened it to reveal a blaze of color. She blinked. The Erabiri men wore black, brown and gray. None had worn vivid colors. Mindful of her dirty fingers, she went to the tub and washed them. Then she cautiously picked up garments made of brick red, emerald green, sunny yellow, and sky blue. The top layer was knee-length tunics of wool or cotton cut in the front and back from the hem to almost the waist. Some of the collars stood up like a mandarin collar, made stiff by thick embroidery. Others were boat-necked or scoop necked. She counted six of them. Beneath them were four pairs of loose trousers in sturdier fabrics like heavy linen. They were also darker in color, like purplish-brown, dark red, and navy blue.

Beneath those was a dress. It was gorgeous, made of heavy silk brocade in shades of fiery red and orange. Ashley stood and held it up against herself. The hem, stiffened by a broad band of gold metallic embroidery, hit her just above the ankle. The loose sleeves were three quarter length, ending in a wide bell edged with the same embroidery. It was dress fit for a princess, similar to what she’d seen queens wearing in Byzantine mosaics. She refolded it carefully.

At the bottom of chest were light, airy shirts made of white and cream gauze. There were large rectangles of more of the gauze, also white or cream. Veils? There were thicker strips of fabric that must be cut on the bias because they had a lot of stretch for a woven fabric. Like an ankle wrap bandage. Ashley searched her memory for the tidbits she’d learned in her history of fashion class. Leg wraps? No, too wide. It dawned on her what it must be. The ancient world’s version of a bra. She would have to wrap the strips around her chest to keep her boobs from bouncing around. Ashley didn’t want to be boastful, but she had a lot of boobage to bounce. If she did any more riding, and she figured she would, she would need something to hold the girls steady.

She found six pairs of socks that looked handknit of undyed wool. Also, several pairs of loose, light weight shorts. She stared at them, trying to figure out why she had shorts. It came to her, with a spurt of giggles, that they must be underwear. Like boxer shorts.
At the bottom of the chest there was a pair of brown leather ankle boots and a pair of dark green leather shoes. They looked like they would fit pretty well. Which was good, because these silk slipper-shoes were trashed.

She almost missed the two wooden boxes fastened to the lid of the chest. One wooden box held a carved bone comb, a brush, and a small hand mirror. Another small wooden box held an odd little brush and a waved linen bag full of powder that smelled like black licorice. A toothbrush and toothpaste?

She sat back on her heels, staring at the contents of the chest strewn about. Six tunics. Four pairs of pants. Underwear and toiletries. Had Jerriel picked out these things himself, or had he ordered his palace seamstress to pack a chest full of clothes for his ‘wife’? Either way, he had brought these clothes and toiletries for her, and the tent. He had planned for her to come here. Pretty arrogant of him, considering that she could have been killed or raped by his army.

Disturbed by that thought, she put the comb and mirror on the table and picked up one of the cream shirts. It wasn’t quite transparent. Maybe in the sun it would be, but it would work for inside the tent.

It wasn’t until she was carefully undressing that she realized that though the ivory silk dress was unfamiliar she was wearing her own bra and panties. Geez, if I was going to keep my own underwear, why couldn’t they be the nice ones? Nonetheless, those washed-so-often-they-were-gray Fruit of the Looms were precious keepsakes now. All they needed was a trip through the washer and dryer. Who would do laundry? She wondered. That kid, Danior? If just mentioning her clothing made him blush, washing her undies would probably finish him off. With a shrug, she stripped her bras and panties off, tossed them in the tub, and climbed in herself.

The water was heavenly warm. The soap in the paper packet was made of little pellets with a floral scent. Maybe a cross between roses and lilacs. It lathered nicely in the washcloth. The tub was too small to stretch out in, but she wanted to luxuriate in the incredible comfort of warm water. But she wasn’t sure when Jerriel would come and she didn’t want to be caught in the tub, so she hurried to wash as thoroughly as she could while being careful not to bang her left elbow against the side of the tub. Hair washing was tricky, and she had only the soap flakes, but it worked well enough as shampoo. It also worked as laundry soap. She scrubbed her underwear as well as she could before wringing them out and laying them over the edge of the tub.

She dried herself and wrapped her hair in the towel before putting on the shirt and a pair of the boxers. She looked for a good place to hang her undies to dry and finally settled on draping them over the back of one chair.

The supper was pretty tasty, if not as hot as it had been before her bath. Beef stew with big chunks of carrots and another vegetable she couldn’t identify. In fact, the meat might not have been beef. It was slightly gamey. Maybe deer? The bread was crusty on the outside and light and fluffy inside. Plain army rations, but she was probably eating better than anyone else from the Thessian city. She swallowed and set down the spoon. Maya was out there somewhere, probably with nothing to eat at all.

Jerriel had to come soon so she could get him to go find Maya.

But he didn’t come. Ashley tried on a pair of pants and put a tunic over the shirt and then opened the tent flap a few inches to see if anyone could take the bath out. There were two full grown Erabiri warriors outside, one on either side of the door to the tent. They called for Danior to come, and those same boys came in and carried the bath and the supper tray out. Ashley hid a smile at the way one of the boys frowned over the underwear draped over the back of one chair. She could almost imagine him trying to decide what they were. She knew when he figured it out by his fiery blush. They left the jug of water and cup.  She asked Danior, who hadn’t noticed the undies, if Jerriel had come yet, but he said no, it would probably be a few hours.

With nothing to do in the tent, she finally mixed up the pain reliever and made herself gulp it down. She combed her hair before putting the sling back on. She re-folded the clothes and put them in the trunk. The once-ivory dress lay in a pitiful crumple beside the bed. She picked it up and tried to fold it neatly, but it was a lost cause. She rolled it up in a bundle and put it on top of the chest. Then, with nothing else to do, she sat at the table, twiddling her thumbs. Literally. Ashley couldn’t remember the last time she had sat with nothing to do. No studying, no reading, no cleaning waited for her. She didn’t have even her phone to play on.

What had happened to her backpack and laptop? Were they lost somewhere in Grimstaborg? Or were they lying abandoned by the fountain on campus? Ashley cradled her arm in its sling against her chest. She and Maya had disappeared in front of dozens of people in a busy part of campus. Maya said it was like the concrete had crumbled from beneath their feet and down they fell into this world. Ashley glanced up and then shook her head. What had she expected to see? There was no gaping hole up there leading back to her real life. There hadn’t been back in Grimstaborg either. What about their jeans and shirts? How was it that she still had her underwear, but her outer clothing had changed? Trying to figure it out would drive her mad.

When they fell through the concrete, had anyone tried to catch them? There had been dozens of people in the Quadrangle. Those four girls who had been sitting at the fountain had been close enough to catch them. Ashley tried to remember if any of them had tried. Had they even noticed? Someone must have noticed two grown women disappear.

Oh, gosh, had her parents been notified that their daughter had disappeared into thin air? Her dad and his second wife lived in Colorado, but her mom was only a hundred miles away from the university. She must be completely freaked out. Geez, her mom had already gone through so much with her only child’s leukemia, and even if none of it was Ashley’s fault, she still felt guilty.

There was literally nothing she could do about it right now. Ashley laid her cheek on the table and closed her eyes as tears threatened. She needed to get to Maya. Her best friend was a genius. With her brilliant scientist’s brain, she would figure out a way for them to get back. She had to. They could not stay here. Jerriel … This wasn’t the Jerriel she’d invented. He wasn’t tender or sweet in any way. If he would help her find Maya she would be grateful, but as soon as Maya was found she wanted to be as far away from him and his bloody sword as possible. Home would be far enough. Ashley wanted to be home with an intensity that made her heart ache.

Surrendering, she wept, as quietly as she could, until her nose was completely clogged and her head ached. She wanted a tissue in the worst way, but there was nothing like that, so she opened the chest and dug out a veil to use on her nose.

The tent grew dim and cold as she waited for Jerriel, so she took off the sling and the tunic and laid down on the bed in the pants and shirt.  Goosebumps from the chill prickled her arms, so she pulled the lusciously soft blanket up to her chin. She expected the narrow bed to be uncomfortable, but it was perfect. Not too hard, and not too soft. Ashley tried to stay awake. Really, she did, because she needed to talk to Jerriel about Maya as soon as possible. But exhaustion drowned even her anxiety and sleep pulled her under.

Jerriel POV

***

It was long past sunset when King Rodir rode to camp, chest tight with the weariness and exultation that warred within him. Woven through those was a silver thread so fine and strong it nearly cut him. Love. Hope.

Valdis.

He gave his horse to one of the herd boys and lifted a hand in farewell to his guards before walking through the camp to the tent that was his. Beside it was the tent he had brought for this night. He had lovingly gathered the contents, wanting his promised wife to be as comfortable as a war camp allowed. It and its furnishings had traveled, unused, from the Royal City and had been erected just this morning to house the only good and beautiful thing the conquered city boasted. Valdis. The silver thread pulled tight around his heart, drawing him toward the small tent.

Two of his own personal bodyguard stood on either side of the door flap. None but men he trusted utterly would be allowed near her. Jerriel made himself stand still. Her tent was dark. She must be sleeping. No need to interrupt her rest. In any case, what welcome would she give him if he came to her covered in the blood of her countrymen? He nodded to the guards and went into his own tent to bathe.

He passed through the outer room to his private quarters and his young cousin Danior appeared, sleepy-eyed, to pour water into the basin. Jerriel shucked his breastplate and vambraces while Danior knelt and unfastened his greaves. His cousin gathered the stained armor to carry away but paused.

Jerriel raised one eyebrow in inquiry.

“The lady,” Danior said carefully. “She wept tonight.”

Jerriel nodded and stripped off his battle-stained pants and shirt. Danior added those to his pile and left.

Clean, dressed in fresh clothing, Jerriel stood in the outer room of his tent, staring unseeing at the map on the conference table. His enemies were dead, all but the chief among them who was now his slave, the city that spawned them was in ruins, and his promised wife was only yards away, safe and secure beneath the canopy of his protection. Tonight, he should be celebrating. Instead, he stood alone in the dim light of an oil lamp and resisted the pull of the silver thread toward his bride. The bride who had been treated like an enemy prisoner and forced to witness his judgement. Those things he had not intended. She had wept? Of course, she had. His Valdis had a tender heart.

Why not go to her? He needn’t wake her to satisfy his yearning to look upon her. He picked up the lamp, turned it low so its light was the merest glow, and carried it the few yards to her tent.

“She sleeps?” he murmured to Jadziel.

“I believe so, Lord King.”

He nodded and passed through the flap. The light was low, but it was enough to see her form under the blankets on the bed. She was from a people who felt the cold more than the Erabiri did, so he had chosen those blankets with his grandmother’s help, wanting the finest for the wife he had waited ten years for. He stood for a moment to let that settle in his heart. The woman he had sworn himself to ten years ago was here, in his camp, protected by his own bodyguards, in the tent he had brought for her. The silver thread eased, and he was able to take a whole breath for the first time in days.

He set the lamp on the table and turned one of the folding camp chairs so he could sit and drink her in. Her hair was still brown, shorter than he remembered it being ten years ago, her face longer and thinner than he remembered, the plump roundness of her teenaged face gone. Her eyes were closed now, but this morning he had seen their beautiful gold color…

His teeth clenched. Her eyes had been filled with shock and horror. She held her shoulders straight, but her proud posture couldn’t hide the terror and horror she’d felt. Jerriel folded his arms over his chest. She had feared him. And, he remembered, she had denied she was his wife. Before his council and his guards, she had tried to refuse him. For ten years he had hoarded her love in his heart, planning for the day when he could rescue her and take her home to be his bride and queen. While she had…what? Forgotten him?

He would never hate her, could never harm her, but the pain of her rejection hurt him far more than a blade through his gut ever could. As he tried to make sense of it, her eyelashes quivered.

***