Dancing back with renewed strength, Jina swept her shortsword down to deflect the stabbing weapon, but her attacker had pulled the blow and now thrust past Jina’s blade, the tip of her sword angling towards the gladiator’s breast. Jina gasped as the sharp tip came to rest on the swell of her left nipple, pressing the delicate flesh painfully, but not puncturing her leather halter.

'Damn you to hell,' she muttered at her would-be killer.

Arasha laughed, and despite herself Jina could not resist grinning at the blonde swordswoman. Ruefully she sheathed her shortsword, glancing once more at the other girl’s rapier. She shook her head in disbelief.

'I have heard of such a weapon, but thought it too fragile to be practicable,' she said as Arasha sheathed the thin blade skilfully.

'If it's in the right hands, it's deadly enough,' she said without a hint of false modesty. She was obviously aware of her skill, and after the last few days, so was Jina. Eager for a rematch against this nimble woman after their encounter in the streets of Kafara, Jina had rested well for two days before suggesting exercise. Arasha had agreed with some amusement, and in the course of their two days of fencing, Jina had barely been able to make her counterpart break a sweat. If they had been fighting for real, Arasha would have killed the gladiator three score times at least. Mulling over this latest defeat, Jina turned away to approach the banister that lined the edge of the villa’s flat roof and lean on the crafted stone to gaze at the scene below.

The villa was on the outskirts of Kafara, and was an enclosed retreat for the rich noblewoman who lived here. When Jina had finally awoken after collapsing from her fever, Arasha had told her she was a guest of Lady Ninoor, a fabulously wealthy woman who had need of fighting women, and who had witnessed Jina's desperate fight in the arena. Looking down at the grounds of the villa, past pairs of women training like herself and Arasha, Jina could see wagons being loaded with supplies and food, and wondered again why Ninoor felt the need to travel the dangerous lands outside of Kafara. At their meeting, Ninoor - whose pale exotic skin had fascinated Jina - had told the gladiator girl her mission was one of great importance, and that her retinue would be handsomely paid. Of that Jina had no doubt, as the down-payment of five gold pieces was already more money than the warrior could even imagine. Awed by the money, Jina had not questioned the noblewoman's motives, but questions niggled and she could not put them to rest.

There were to be some thirty warriors in the retinue, together with a score of handmaids and labourers. They would leave Kafara early in the morning to travel to Carador, a cityport three days wagon ride to the east. From there, a boat journey of some twenty days would take them to the island that Ninoor had such an interest in. What they would find there remained a mystery.

Arasha moved to stand beside Jina, and the gladiator glanced at her, once again admiring the duellist’s fine appearance. She stood just an inch shorter than Jina, and blonde hair framed a handsome, oval face that was blessed with immaculately proportioned features. Her tanned skin was unblemished, and her clothing was unspoilt. She wore a simple tunic, filigreed with gold lace, and soft leather boots that sheathed her shapely legs up to her tantalisingly bronzed thighs.

Jina herself looked distinctly worn in comparison. Tall and tautly muscled, the warrior woman kept her blonde hair short, to prevent the chance of it falling before her clear, blue eyes during a fight. She wore a new leather halter, supplied by Lady Ninoor, which exposed a great deal of her tanned flesh between its toughened straps. This flesh bore the marks of injuries both recent and ancient, a legacy of the warrior’s time in the arena.

'You're still concerned about where we're going,' Arasha stated, then sighed melodramatically. 'How many times do I have to tell you? It's easy money, and you're going to be able to start your new life just as soon as we return. You'll be able to go where you want, and get the respect you deserve.' She looked the gladiator in the eyes. 'You don't know me well enough to trust me yet; I know that. I wish I could tell you where we are going, truly I do. Just be patient, and all will be revealed.'

Jina shook her head. 'Actually, I do trust you. It's a gut instinct, and I've learned to trust that also.' She turned to face Arasha. 'But you obviously have made this journey before, and I can't help being curious. How many others have accompanied Ninoor to this island and returned to tell the tale?'

Arasha stared at the tall warrior for long moments, until a serving girl scurried up to her, saving her the need to respond.

'Lady Arasha?' the girl curtsied clumsily, 'Travellers are here from Joha. They have asked to see you.'

Arasha laughed heartily. 'That will be Inga and Coral. Come, Jina. You'll love these two.'

Jina followed the other girl through the airy villa, through perfumed corridors and down the wide, sweeping central staircase that led to the glass fronted main hall and the pillared arcade beyond. At the foot of the steps two women waited, grinning up at the duellist as she quickly descended. Jina observed the newcomers with interest, and her gladiators senses immediately told her these two were not to be underestimated.

The first woman stood a head shorter than Jina herself, and was dressed in an intricate blouse and stitched trews. She wore black leather knee boots and gloves, and her raven hair fell in a well-organised mass past her slender shoulders. Her cloak was casually cast over one shoulder, the expensive garment failing to hide the delicate blade belted at her side. She grinned up at Arasha, her fine white teeth splitting a tanned face that was home to piercing dark eyes, a slightly hooked nose and ruby red lips. Had she not seen Arasha fighting Jina would have discounted the woman as a dandy, and perhaps paid for such dismissal with her life were she and the woman to engage in combat.

Few, however, would have discounted her companion. Although not overly tall, the other woman stood several inches higher than her colleague, and her stocky body made her seem squat and dwarfish in comparison. Her dark hair was cropped short, and her hard features looked unnatural in the tight smile she wore to greet Arasha. She was clad in leather armour, toughened and chapped by obvious wear. She wore a wide bladed sword at her belt, and a double bladed axe was slung across her back.

'Inga! Coral!' Arasha laughed as she hopped girlishly down the last few steps to embrace the muscled woman tightly. Jina was surprised by the barrel chested warrior’s chuckle as she hugged Arasha in return, but her attention was diverted to the dark haired duellist Coral, who was staring at her with interest, a slight smile playing on her lips.

'And where did my friend dig you up from?' she said, her voice amused. Jina bristled, but Arasha disentangled herself from Inga’s meaty grip to step before her dark haired counterpart.

'This is Jina of Kafara, an ex-gladiator and a friend. Hold your tongue, wench, lest you wish to lose it.'

Coral’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped back into a fighting stance. 'Think you to teach me manners, harlot? You have neither the skill nor the courage to cross blades with me!'

'Think ye so?' Arasha roared, whipping her rapier free with blinding speed and thrusting forward in one fluid manoeuvre. Jina gasped at the speed of Arasha's assault, but by the time the blonde haired duellist’s blade was angling towards Coral’s chest, the other had drawn her own rapier with equal speed, and parried the thrust perfectly. Their blades locked, the two women stepped in close, and of a sudden broke into bawdy laughter and a tight one-armed embrace.

Bemused, Jina watched them hug, then became aware that the squat bodied Inga had moved silently to stand beside her. 'They're like this every time they meet,' she said, and Jina was surprised at her voice, which seemed altogether too high pitched for one so large. She sounded more like a young girl than a grown warrior woman. Inga regarded Jina for a second, then clasped her forearm tightly in a traditional gladiators greeting. 'I heard of your battle when we entered the city,' she said, her lips pursed in grudging respect. 'Life outside the arena can be strange to those so used to the life of a gladiator.'

Jina shrugged. 'I have yet to see much of life outside Kafara. Lady Ninoor has seen to that.'

Inga grunted a laugh. 'The Lady will see you alright.' Hearing the clashing of blades, the two gladiators turned to see their colleagues had begun to spar with gusto, their good-natured fight liberally coloured with taunts and insults, made somewhat less virulent by their constant grins. Inga shook her head in mock disgust.

'They'll be at it for ages. Come, lets get drunk! You tell your tales and I'll tell mine, and we'll leave these fops to their play.' Chuckling, the muscular woman grabbed Jina around the shoulders, and led her from the hall in search of ale.

xxxxx

Syrus fingered small coins into a leather pouch, his gloomy expression deepening further as he realised his takings were even less than he had hoped. Downstairs his remaining girls awaited custom or entertained paying guests, but that slut of a gladiator had pruned a quarter of his workforce in one fell swoop, and his business would suffer for it.

True, his remaining whores were comely enough, and their wide array of talents kept the money coming in even when their usual trade was slow, but Syrus had commitments, and numerous expensive habits to feed. He shook his head as he thought once again about the three girls he had lost four nights previously. Jina had slashed them to ribbons as they sought to relieve her of her money, and she had only just recovered from a life-saving operation performed by Syrus himself!

A crash from downstairs made Syrus frown. Sometimes his clients got a little rowdy. Mostly his girls could handle themselves as all were street thieves, murderers or assassins already. Still, he stood and waddled to the door, stepping out onto the small balcony that overlooked the lower floor of his humble establishment. Then, his heart froze.

The gladiator Jina stood framed in the door, her face flushed and twisted in anger. She held a long bladed knife, the kind used by his own girls, and as she saw him appear from his room she raised the weapon and pointed its tip straight at him.

'You!' she cried, 'I told you I'd be back if my wound became infected. Well it did, sho here I am!' So saying, she wavered and slumped against the door frame, her eyes unfocussed. Before she could slide to the floor, another woman stepped in beside her, dragging her to her feet and slapping her smartly across the face. Jina shook her head, then glared at Inga indignantly.

'How dare you shtrike me, you bish.'

'Shtay alert!' Inga slurred, waggling her own knife at Syrus. 'You're here to gut this bashard, remember?'

Jina stared at the quailing brothel keeper for a second, then her face lit up. 'Thash right. Bashard nearly killed me!' Waving her arm free of Inga’s grip, Jina advanced into the room, where three of Syrus' whores were standing, their own knives drawn. They looked up at their boss uncertainly, but as he saw the two gladiators were almost unconscious with booze, Syrus' courage returned.

'Get to work, girls,' he ordered them. A silver piece for each of their tongues!' Grinning, Syrus leaned on the flimsy banister to watch the fight below. Soon he would get his revenge on Jina, and finally get his hands on the emerald-pomelled sword she wore at her hip.

In a drink-soused spirit of fair play, Jina and Inga had decided they would fight with knives against Syrus' similarly beweaponed whores. Now, as the three grinning women advanced, fanning out around the two gladiators, Jina felt the first stirrings of unease.

'They sheem very confident,' Inga muttered.

'Thash because we're very, very drunk,' Jina reminded her.

'S'true. Shtill no match for shluts like these though, eh?'

Breaking into bawdy laughter, the two women seemed to forget the armed whores were even there, until one decided to strike. A dark haired youngster lunged at Jina, her vicious blade held low and ready to gut the inebriated gladiator. On pure instinct, Jina felt the girl close in, and swept her arm up, her own knife flashing. The whore gasped and leant back to avoid the weapon, her blade extended in mid jab. Jina's left hand closed on her forearm in a vice-like grip, and the girl squealed as Jina twisted her arm viciously, causing her to grit her teeth and arch her back against the pain. Jina's right arm swept down, and her knife plunged into the creamy flesh between the whore’s mostly-exposed breasts. Bone crunched, and the whore shrieked in mortal pain, her eyes snapping wide as she felt the cold blade sink deep into her chest.

Syrus moaned as he saw another of his employees die by Jina's hand, and could only watch as the whore sagged, then bucked as Jina twisted her knife and ripped it free amidst a spray of crimson. The dying girl’s body spun around, a ribbon of gore squirting from her fatal wound to splatter across the walls and floor of the brothel before she crumpled forward to lie spread-eagled and lifeless, blood pouring from her mouth and spreading in a sticky puddle from where her breasts were mashed into the floor.

The dead girl’s two companions growled in fury and launched their attack, and the two gladiators turned to face this new threat. Syrus wrung his hands and fretted, although he knew his other two girls were not as impetuous as poor young Neena.

Inga growled at the girl coming at her, a black skinned wench in an opaque shift called Kiro. The whore bared dazzlingly white teeth and hissed in fury as she lunged, her knife flashing. Inga staggered back, confused by the dancing blade, but as her back slammed against the wall of the brothel, she stepped forward with a curse, lashing out to lock blades with the black girl. Kiro grunted as she flexed her muscles, but her strength could not compete with that of the stocky warrior woman. Grinning in victory, Inga slammed her free hand into Kiro's face, smashing her nose and sending her reeling - dazed and confused. She sprawled over a table, snorting a drooling ribbon of blood from her clogged nostrils and groaning in pain.

Jina was sparring with a short blonde girl named Lameta, who wore a toga that covered only her right breast. The provocative costume was succeeding in distracting Jina, who marvelled at the way the whore’s heavy breast wobbled and swung as she attacked. Grinning, Lameta determined to press this advantage by cupping her bountiful flesh and moaning in pleasure and she thumbed her engorged nipple. Her eyes popping, Jina watched dumbstruck, only breaking out of her distracted state as her gladiator’s senses warned her of a fresh foe.

Looking down on the battle, Syrus had seen a side door open, and the face of another of his whores peering out to see what was going on. Golden skinned Imuta, a silver haired girl of elfin beauty, saw immediately that Lameta was angling Jina around, presenting the gladiator’s muscular back as a prime target. Disappearing back into her room for a fraction of a second to grab her knife and inform her complaining client she would be gone for a short while, Imuta - naked except for a lace thong - stole into the room with her blade held low, her brows knitted and her lips pressed firm together as she snuck up behind the distracted Jina.

But Jina was not as distracted as the whores hoped, and as Imuta silently lunged, the gladiator swept around, grabbing the silver haired girl’s forearm to stop her thrust dead. Gasping in shock, Imuta could not resist as Jina stepped close and twisted, ramming her left shoulder into the whore’s armpit and whisking her around, directly into the path of the charging Lameta.

Having seen her friend’s attack fail, Lameta was faced with Jina's back, and immediately sprang forward with knife extended. Now she gasped in shocked dismay as Imuta's pale skin appeared before her. The long bladed knife slid easily into poor Imuta's slim back, slipping between her ribs and making her arch her back. She moaned in pain, throwing her head back and stretching her arms out wide in mortal agony. Jina quickly plunged her already bloody blade into the silver haired girl’s small left breast, splitting the nipple and pressing the flesh flat before the weapon sank through fat and bone to skewer her heart. Shuddering, Imuta sagged to the floor, blood drooling from the corners of her mouth over her bare breasts and belly. With a final convulsion she vomited gore and pitched sideways to lie twitching.

Once more confronting a white faced Lameta, Jina grinned and waggled her blood slicked blade, thinking that the whore would bolt. She was partly impressed and partly irritated when the girl roared in anger and leapt forwards, eager to remedy her error.

Syrus was weeping openly as he saw his most beautiful girl slump lifeless to the blood slicked floor. With four of his girls out hustling, there remained only one who had not yet joined the fray. Turning, he scuttled along the balcony towards the only other door, upon which he hammered in desperation.

'I'm busy,' someone screamed from beyond, and Syrus cursed before barging the door open.

Within, Magda was astride a gasping, stricken client, whose lobster-red face and bulging eyes made him look like a man on the verge of heart failure. Not surprising, as the massive woman atop him was known to have killed two men during her business hours. She was big boned, solidly fleshed but not fat. When she stood she measured six and a half feetl, and her bulging limbs were testament to her physical condition. Her close cropped head turned as she glared at Syrus, although she still bounded up and down on her wheezing client.

'Syrus! What the hell are you doing?'

'Magda! The gladiator! J . . . Jina! She's here to kill me!'

Magda stopped bouncing, grinning from ear to ear at Syrus' fear. 'I suppose you want me to kill her? How much?' Her eyes narrowed as she stared the fat man down.

'P . . . please Magda, we'll discuss it later. She's already killed Imuta and Neena!'

Magda growled as she learned the gladiator had killed two more of her colleagues. She dismounted her client, who was in no state to complain, and quickly pulled on a leather thong, grabbing her blade as she headed for the door.

'You'll pay me well for this, Syrus,' she muttered as she pushed him aside, 'Or it'll be me who guts you.'

Down below, Inga had Kiro by the throat, and had hefted the black girl up to hold her dangling, eyes bulging and scrabbling for breath. Blood still hosed from the woman’s broken nose, and the stocky warrior chortled at the sight, until Kiro's desperately flailing knife slashed open a cut on her thick forearm, and the pain made her roar in anger.

'Curse you, bitch! You'll suffer for that!'

So saying, Inga drew back her blade and rammed in deep into Kiro's navel. The knife squelched through flesh and into the black girls intestines, and her eyes popped wider still as the cold steel penetrated her body. Laughing drunkenly, Inga yanked the blade free and rammed it into the whore’s crotch, releasing a torrent of blood. The girl writhed in her vice-like grip as she ripped and plunged the sodden blade time and again into yielding flesh until - finally content the whore was dead - Inga threw her loose body across the room. Her belly nothing more than minced flesh, Kiro's corpse landed heavily on a table, shattering the wood. The body lay amidst the splinters, limbs jerking as blood pooled between her widespread thighs.

'What, no more?' Inga complained as she saw Jina battled the only other living whore, but then the stocky gladiator raised her eyes to watch Magda as the gigantic woman descended into the blood spattered room. 'By the Gods,' Inga wondered, 'Never have I sheen a bigger bitch!'

'I'll have your tongue,' Magda growled as she readied her blade, 'and eat your heart cold.' Yelling a guttural battlecry, Magda threw herself forward, having contented herself that Lameta was getting the best of Jina.

Jina grunted in pain as she was slammed back against the wall of the brothel. Lameta growled and spat in her face, her pretty features twisted in a fearsome scowl as she sought revenge for her lifeless colleagues. An experienced street thief and former pit-fighter, the whore had taken many lives with her knife, and Jina in her current state was learning that her foe was a formidable warrior.

Grappling, the two blonde women skidded along the wall, each gripping the others right forearm. Lameta's blade was dangerously close to Jina's throat, and the gladiator moaned in effort as she struggled to wrest the knife away from her flesh. Slowly she managed to push the knife away, but as he lips twisted into a victorious grin, Lameta smartly looped one foot around the back of Jina's leg and yanked her off balance. Jina cursed as she slumped to the floor, twisting her head aside to avoid Lameta's flashing knife. The blade rammed into the wall, and Lameta squealed in frustration as her weapon was stuck fast. Not wasting the opportunity, Jina lanced her booted right foot into her opponent’s crotch.

Lameta screamed as she flew back across the brothel, landing hard on Imuta's gory corpse. Groaning in disgust as she flailed in vomit and blood, Lameta didn't see Jina leaping at her, looking up too late as the gladiator’s boot swept in towards her surprised face. The blow landed hard, and Lameta's head snapped back an impossible distance. Her limbs flailed and she crashed back onto Imuta once more, to lie spread-eagled and unmoving.

Panting for breath, Jina glanced to where Inga and Syrus' final whore were battling. Astonished by the size of the woman, Jina readied her blade to help her new friend. Then, she glanced up to see Syrus' frame disappearing into one of the rooms above. As her drink-addled brain remembered why she had come here in the first place, she growled and made for the stairs.

'I'm after Syrus,' she called to Inga, 'You'll be alright, won't you?'

Inga grunted as Magda's ham-like fist smashed into her jaw. Reeling, she bounced off a table and lashed her blade at the nearly naked woman’s belly. As Magda threw herself back to avoid the knife, Inga threw a vicious glance at her colleague.

'Oh sure. Take your time!'

Magda turned to see Jina vaulting up the steps towards the balcony, then roared in anger and made to follow the gladiator.

'No you don't!' Inga yelled as she lumbered after the huge woman, 'You and I aren't finished yet!'

Magda cleared six steps before Inga grabbed her calf, sending her crashing to the wooden stairs with a grunt of pain. She lanced out her other foot into Inga’s face, and the warrior woman yelped as her nose crunched and she was sent crashing to the brothel’s bloody floor. Magda pulled herself upright, then turned with a scowl, now determined to butcher Inga before making after Jina. With an evil grin, Inga staggered to her feet, wiping blood from her nostrils and gesturing her new foe on. Magda leapt forward with an angry scream, and Inga prudently scuttled back away from the frenzied giant, until her foot slipped in a puddle of greasy blood and she fell heavily, a shout of dismay breaking from her lips as her knife skittered from her hand. Magda threw herself down on top of the fallen woman, and Inga groaned at the weight landing on her belly. A meaty left hand lanced out to grip her around the throat, and she looked up with bugging eyes as Magda raised her vicious blade high, intent on plunging it down into Inga’s defenceless flesh.

'Didn't . . . want to have to . . . do this,' Inga grunted between clenched teeth as she flexed her outstretched arms and curled her fingers into claws. A growl arose deep from within her, and Magda paused with a frown as she looked down at the woman trapped beneath her.

Inga’s eyes seemed to glow from within, a deep crimson fire that struck fear into the whore’s heart. Her body seemed to swell, and her face elongated suddenly into something not quite human. Magda gaped in fear, her knife forgotten as she stared at Inga’s fearsome visage. She didn't hear the sound of ripping flesh as Inga’s fingers twisted and stretched, and vicious claws emerged from their bloody tips. A throaty chuckle broke from Inga’s lips as she thrust these claws deep into Magda's sides, under her ribcage. Screaming in sudden agony, Magda's back arched, her breasts thrust out and flailing as her body shuddered in pain.

Ripping her gore-sodden claws free, Inga lashed out at Magda's chest with both hands, mauling the huge woman’s breasts and quickly reducing them to nothing more than ruptured sacks of bloody flesh. Magda stared aghast at her ruined breasts, her knife falling from nerveless fingers as she clutched the savaged mammaries, whimpering in pain and fear as she staggered to her feet and back-pedalled away. Her whimpers became a piercing wail of terror as Inga leapt to her feet and swooped in to attack again, inhuman hands whipping out to grab each side of her head. Her eyes popping, Magda's mouth dropped open to plead for her life, but Inga wrenched her head viciously to the left, then to the right, then finally straight up.

Bones popped and splintered as Magda's neck was broken by the violent twisting, and as Inga lifted her head straight up, it left her body with a horrid sound of tearing flesh. Blood erupted from the ragged stump, and Magda's outsized body stood swaying for a second, limbs twitching spasmodically, before she collapsed into a lifeless sack of naked flesh.

The head clasped between Inga’s paws drooled gore from every orifice, and thick ribbons of blood spattered to the floor from the remains of her neck. As Magda's eyes rolled back in her skull, her tongue lolled free from between her slackened jaws. Holding the skull by the hair, Inga’s glowing eyes peered with interest at her victims face, until Syrus' agonised screams from above distracted her. She threw Magda's head away almost thoughtlessly, not even watching the grisly trophy bounce and splatter until it came to rest between the widespread legs of her previous victim, Kiro.

In the room above, Jina watched Syrus' feeble twitching for a second, as he tried to pile his loosened guts back into his abdomen. Then, suddenly sickened by what she had done, she stooped to slit his fleshy throat, stepping back to avoid the spray of greasy blood that hosed suddenly upwards.

'Should have done your job properly Syrus,' she muttered as she threw her bloody knife onto his lap before turning to leave. Staggering out onto the balcony, she groaned as she saw the mess down below. She and Inga had turned the brothel into a charnel house. Blood dribbled down the walls and congealed on the floor around twisted bodies. Amidst the carnage, Inga staggered to her feet, her face and arms slicked with blood.

'By the Gods!' Jina exclaimed as she carefully descended, clutching the railing to steady herself, 'You're wounded?'

Inga glanced at her gory hands and shrugged. 'Hers, I think. It'll wash off. If your business is done, we'd better leave.'

Jina nodded, aware that Inga was not looking her in the eye. She glanced down at Magda’s ripped body and her eyes widened, but Inga grabbed her arm and guided her roughly towards the door.

'The guards will be here soon, and I'd rather be away. I'd say we look like prime suspects. don't you think?'

Jina agreed, but as the two warriors slipped out into the dark Kafara streets, she couldn't help but wonder if her new friend was hiding something from her.

xxxxx

Emperor Nasili chewed a fat, black grape reflectively as he reclined on the balcony of his restful villa. At the centre of the bustling city, the villa was set in a wide swath of verdant greenery, fed by underground irrigation that babbled up to form picturesque streams and pools around the immaculately cared for gardens and flower plots. Tall walls kept Kafara at bay, but even these and the numerous guards stationed here could not always keep away annoyances. Nasili shifted in irritation as, from the chamber behind him, an aide entered and 'harumphed' for attention.

'What is it now?' he groaned. He'd spent the entire morning in chambers, and relished the peace and quiet his villa usually afforded him in the early afternoon.

'Sorry to disturb, my Lord,' the aide apologised, 'but Captain Rahma wishes to speak with you on a matter of some import.'

Nasili blinked. 'Rahma? She wishes to speak to me? Don't be shy, Haran, how did she actually say it?'

'Actually my Lord, she lifted me off the floor and spat in my face, then insisted I announce her,' Haran told his master, his expression not changing.

The Emperor grinned. 'Unflappable Haran! The things you put up with. You should be more honest with me. Maybe I'll have her head for daring to manhandle my most trusted aide? What do you think of that?'

'No need for that, my Lord,' Haran answered. 'I actually rather enjoyed the experience.'

Nasili chuckled. 'Show her in, my friend, but make sure she knows she's not welcome.'

Haran bowed and retreated, and seconds later steel shod shoes echoed across the marble floor as Captain Rahma strode across the chamber to sweep out onto the balcony, offering the slightest bow before staring unflinchingly down at the Emperor’s face. Such intimidating tactics were wasted on Nasili, who carefully picked grapeskin from between his teeth for long seconds before turning towards his visitor.

As always, he let his eyes wander over her impressive frame before they found their way to her face. She stood tall, over six feet, and every inch toned and muscled to perfection. Her skin was bronzed by the Kafaran sun, that which was not encased in chain and plate armour. She was bedecked with weapons from head to toe, and stood with hands placed firmly on hips as she looked down her nose at the Emperor. Her face was proud and haughty, tilted up as if to exaggerate her fine features to those who would dare to look at her face to face. Her eyes were dark orbs beneath ferociously arched brows, her lips full and firm, pursed over straight, white teeth. Her raven hair fell from behind her gleaming helm, which was decorated with colourful feathers that were swept back to fall across her muscled back.

Nasili shifted as his penis swelled involuntarily. Most men found Rahma irresistible, but her appetites lay elsewhere. She was Captain of an exclusive faction of the city guard, a division composed entirely of women, hand selected by Rahma herself, their mettle tested in both battle and her bedchamber.

'My Lord, I bring dire news.' Obviously unable to hold her tongue any longer, Rahma spoke before the Emperor, a breach of protocol that could easily have cost her her life. Perhaps she knew that Nasili secretly admired her, and her devotion to keeping the law in his city.

'What other kind would you possibly bring, Captain Rahma?' Nasili asked drily.

'Five murders were committed last night, my Lord. The surgeon Syrus and four of his . . . assistants.'

The Emperor looked up at her, amazed. 'The . . . surgeon? Come now, Rahma, we know his trade, and that of his girls. I would never have thought you would mourn the loss of such a man. How did you describe him? Ah yes: "A leech on the manhood of this great city." A colourful description, but oddly appropriate.'

Nasili chuckled, but Rahma shifted with annoyance. 'The murderer was the gladiator Jina.' She smirked with satisfaction as Nasili’s face froze. He settled slowly back on his couch, gazing over his gardens for a minute before speaking again.

'It was definitely her?'

'And an accomplice. One of Syrus' . . . whores survived. She claims Jina came to his establishment after her fight in the arena, and he healed her wound. Then, last night she returned to gut him.'

Nasili snorted. 'I wonder why.'

Rahma scowled down at her Emperor. 'There can only be one punishment for such an act,' she said, 'Murder, and the crime of dishonouring her word. She was supposed to leave Kafara by the next dawn after her fight at the arena.'

Nasili sighed, knowing his Captain was right. 'Very well, Rahma. Deal with the matter as you see fit.'

Rahma’s face melted into a wide smile, and she bowed once again, this time with almost genuine respect for the Emperor, before turning on her heel and marching towards the doors. Nasili turned his head to watch her leave, marvelling at the sight but shaking his head in regret at the same time.

'Sorry Jina,' he muttered, 'Looks like your days are numbered.'

xxxxx

'What were you thinking?' Arasha growled, not seeming to care that Jina and Inga were in the throes of extreme pain. Bleary eyed and white faced, they sat slumped in the rear of an open top wagon, surrounded by sacks and barrels of supplies, while Arasha irritably flicked the reins leading the two mild mannered horses that pulled their wagon.

'We weren't,' Jina muttered, shivering despite the afternoon heat and rubbing her temples. 'It seemed like a good idea at the time.'

'It was my idea, Arasha,' Inga admitted mournfully, 'You know what I'm like when I'm drunk.'

Arasha snorted. 'Yes I do, almost as senseless as you are when you're sober. If this causes us trouble . . .'

'It won't,' Inga scoffed, 'Nobody saw us leave, and we moved through the city like a pair of restless spirits.' She chuckled, but withered under Arasha's piercing glare.

Still, the wagons had left Kafara early morning unchallenged, and the city was already lost to the heat haze rippling the desert behind them. The horizon ahead was dominated by the craggy peaks and valleys that separated the desert lands from the altogether more pleasant green fields and gentle hillsides that would be the terrain for the rest of the journey to the cityport of Carador.

Their wagon formed part of a modest caravan, consisting of nine more wagons and a score of mounted warriors. A centre wagon was larger than the rest, canvas covered and defended by a platform on each side. Each platform bore two archers, black skinned girls from the southern lands whose skill with such weapons was renowned. Four of the other wagons also bore an archer, together with a complement of Ninoor's handmaids. The Lady herself travelled in relative comfort in her caravan. Jina had not seen her enter the caravan, so intent was she on her aching head, but now felt disappointment that she had not seen her noble hostess once more. Ninoor's translucent beauty had stayed with her since first sight, and she knew truly her new employer was by far the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Feeling the need to placate Arasha by attempting to change the subject, Jina hefted herself upright to peer at the forbidding landscape ahead. 'Do we intend to camp within the valleys? Surely that would be a fine place for bandits to attack.'

Arasha grunted. 'My thoughts exactly, but our Lady insisted we travel with all speed, stopping for only one night. The Kafara guard swept the Crags clear of bandits only a handful of weeks ago.'

'The Crags?'

'Not a great name, but descriptive enough. They stretch for three days travel in either direction, but we will travel the most used route, and the narrowest. There shouldn't be a problem.'

Arasha lapsed into silence, and Jina settled back uneasily. Although the change in subject had softened the duellist’s mood, Jina got the distinct impression Arasha expected something to happen during the trip through the Crags. Anything that could worry Arasha deserved a great deal of respect. Fingering the hilt of her emerald pommelled sword, Jina slumped back once more against a sack of biscuit, closing her eyes to ease the pain still thundering in her head, wondering what Arasha wasn't telling her.

xxxxx

Anya and Koto watched the approaching caravan from cover high in the Crags’ rocky terrain. Koto frowned as she counted the number of warriors in Ninoor's retinue, wondering again how the noblewoman had managed to find so many fighters willing to risk their lives for an unknown cause. Still, she had expected a number close to what she saw, and pulled her silent sister back into cover before delving into her backpack to extract what she needed for the spell of summoning. Anya glared at her with annoyance.

'I know it's your turn, Anya,' Koto said patiently, 'but this is important, and my skills outweigh yours.' Her blunt words would hurt her sister, but she spoke the truth and they both knew it. Sulking, Anya pulled her slim legs up to her chest and watched her sister petulantly, as Koto laid out the spell components before her. Muttering indistinct words as she worked, Koto worked the bladder of some strange beast between her hands for several seconds, before stuffing the smelly sack with a pungent mixture of herbs and a single, small diamond. Her bones ached as the magic took effect, but she continued muttering as she picked up another bladder and repeated the process. By the time she had finished with the second, her strength had gone and she sagged sideways against her sister, who held her concernedly.

'I'm . . . I'm all right, Anya. But . . . two will have to be enough.'

She gestured that her sister should continue, and Anya grabbed the two stuffed bladders and carefully crept to the edge of the ledge where she and her sister hid. The caravan was closing, its guards still watching attentively although they had been travelling all day and would be very tired. Anya herself glanced to where the sun had set over the lip of the canyon just minutes ago. Soon night would descend with alarming suddenness, and the caravan would have to halt. Anya would have preferred a night attack, but her sister had decided to strike now, when the warriors below would least expect an attack. Hefting one of the bladders, Anya gauged its weight before heaving the swollen sack over the ledge and down towards the valley floor. The second followed moments later, and Anya scuttled forward to the lip of the ledge to watch the result eagerly.

xxxxx

Having spent most of the afternoon asleep, Jina had awoken early evening, refreshed and hungry. She had dined on bread and cheese, washed down with brackish water, then took the reins from Arasha as the caravan travelled through the looming valleys of the Crags. This was truly an inhospitable landscape, although the path they followed looked well travelled. Still, the gladiator watched the silent promontories of rock carefully for signs of movement, not trusting Arasha’s assurances regarding the absence of bandits.

The sound of something crashing against the valley floor a short distance behind sounded loud even over the noise of the fast moving caravan. The mounted outriders signalled a halt as they turned to peer into the gathering gloom, anxious to spot what had made the sound. Then, the sound was repeated. A weighty impact, as something fleshy burst against the hard rock.

‘What was that?’ Inga roused herself from where she was slumped in the back of the wagon.

‘Don’t know,’ Jina reined in the wagon and stood on her seat to peer back past the wagons behind, thinking she saw a faint illumination from further down the valley. ‘Looks like the riders are going to have a look.’

Four mounted women turned their steeds to ride back towards where the sounds had originated, but their horses were skittish and refused to move back down the valley. Arasha stood beside Jina to take a look.

‘Let’s go,’ she said simply, her rapier sliding from its sheath with a silky whisper.

Jumping from their wagon, the three women jogged towards the rear of the caravan, picking up six other warriors and two of the black skinned archers as they did so. Taking command, Arasha ordered two pairs of warriors to move to the edges of the valley while the remainder kept to the centre.

Then, a crack like thunder shocked the women into fighting stances, weapons poised as a green flash illuminated the valley walls before them. Something was moving on the valley floor, increasing in size as they watched with bulging eyes. A mass of pallid flesh broiled against the rocks, until slowly the shape of a head rose from the pustulous matter, quickly followed by a female torso. A whisper escaped the creature’s newly formed lips as it breathed for the first time, and crimson eyes snapped open, instantly focusing on the warriors.

‘By the Gods!’ Inga exclaimed.

‘Magic,’ Jina hissed between her teeth, making a sign against evil.

‘A demon,’ Arasha agreed, ‘But made of flesh and therefore mortal. Don’t give it a chance to fully form!’ So saying, she ran forward nimbly to engage the creature, closely followed by the other warriors. Another blinding flash caused the women to skid to a halt as, beyond the first creature, a second could be seen beginning to form. The first by now had stretched tall, finally standing to tower over the tallest of the warriors. The creature’s skin was eerily luminescent, and as its flesh smoothed to a marble finish, four arms suddenly sprouted from its torso, the new limbs twisting and flexing before narrow blades slid from the hands to present a threatening spectacle. Standing with legs akimbo, the pallid monster waved its weapons in intricate and mesmerising circles, and a gurgling hiss bubbled from its lips as its bald head moved to examine the women before it. Although naked, the creature had no sexual organs or nipples, just dappled flesh and lithe limbs, and almond shaped eyes that marked the creature of Ippanese origin. The second creature continued to form, and looked to be identical to the first.

‘What do we do?’ one of Ninoor’s warriors asked Arasha nervously, obviously unused to fighting inhuman enemies. Jina knew the feeling well enough, as although she had heard tales of monsters that inhabited the lands beyond Kafara, she had never crossed blades with anything other than living, breathing human beings.

‘Attack,’ Arasha said quietly, ‘But carefully. And watch out for the third eye. Whatever you do, don’t look at it.’

‘The third eye?’ Jina echoed, but already Arasha was moving forward to engage the creature, Inga at her side. Jina readied her sword and launched herself forward, feeling rather than seeing Ninoor’s trained warriors with her. As the women attacked the creature responded, suddenly scuttling forward with frightening speed waving its four swords skilfully. Arasha’s sword flashed as she parried two of the stabbing weapons, and Inga ducked under a third with a curse. A dark haired warrior lunged for the creature’s chest, but ended up parrying for her life as the fourth weapon slashed and stabbed at her. Reeling back, the woman scurried from the creature’s path as it moved quickly into the midst of the warriors.

The women prudently fanned out around the monster, testing its skill before engaging in close combat. The two archers nocked arrows, and the creature’s red eyes turned on them in an instant. As the two black skinned girls took aim, a glowing third eye abruptly opened on the creatures forehead. The archers froze instantly, paralysed under the unearthly gaze.

‘No!’ Arasha shouted in chagrin as the monster scuttled forward again with frightening speed, its weapons stabbing at the dazzled archers. Screaming, the two women collapsed writhing as the creature cannoned into them, its blades stabbing down swiftly again and again to skewer them through the belly and chest. It passed their flopping bodies before turning swiftly to regard the rest of the women, its demon eye snapping shut. The two archers died gurgling, blood hosing from the multiple wounds in their taut, dark flesh.

‘Arasha! You know what this is, don’t you!’ Jina shouted accusingly, and the duellist nodded curtly.

‘An Avatar of Keba, Ippanese Goddess of war.’ She began to move even as she spoke again. ‘Their gaze can freeze you, so keep your eyes low. Come on!’

A couple of the other warriors were hesitant to attack, having seen how quickly the archers had been despatched, but Inga cast her sword aside and hefted her double bladed axe with a growl before following her friend in to attack, and Jina knew she could not let them fight this monster on their own.

Arasha ducked in to attack, her rapier stabbing at the Avatar’s legs. However, the monster could control each of its weapons with consummate skill and easily knocked the woman’s blade aside, lashing out in quick response. Arasha flipped smartly backwards and the blades swished close to her twisting body. Her heart pounding, Jina dove in to slash at the creature’s chest, but a single blade parried her strike as another lanced towards her belly. Sucking her stomach in, Jina twisted to successfully avoid the weapon, but the Avatar flicked its arm and Jina yelled in pain as the cold flesh slammed into her, knocking her flying to sprawl groaning on the rocky ground. The Avatar turned as if to finish her off, but then Inga swung her mighty axe at the creatures back, yelling a battlecry as the blade descended. The Avatar turned with blinding speed, but even it couldn't parry the blindside attack. Inga’s axeblade bit into its shoulder, chopping through the pallid flesh and severing both right arms. The limbs fell to the ground, but the Avatar did not even seem to feel the crippling wounds, instead lashing out with both left blades to force Inga back. Cursing, the warrior woman stumbled back out of harms way, dismayed that the creature hadn't even paused.

Arasha yelled at the hesitant warriors to attack before diving back into the fray herself. Her rapier flashed in the gloom to jab at the Avatar’s lower torso on the right hand side, where the creature could no longer protect itself. It could, however, spin and twist to face its attacker with frightening speed, and Arasha cursed as the Avatar parried her attack and flicked at her with its other blade. She snapped her head back, but a clump of spliced blonde hair flew and the duellist gritted her teeth in frustration.

'The arms are growing again!' Jina called a warning, noticing the stumps now sprouting from the Avatar’s torso. Then, seeing the second Avatar move in to assist its counterpart, her heart sank. How could they fight such inhuman creatures?

'So the arms grow back,' Inga growled, 'Lets see if it can do that trick with its head!'

So saying, the barrel chested warrior chopped with all her might at the first Avatar’s head. The creature raised a blade to parry the assault, but the heavy axeblade smashed through the weapon and chopped clear through the Avatar’s neck. An inhuman shriek burst from its lips as the head flew, but the body continued moving and fighting, blindly stabbing at Inga and forcing the stocky warrior back.

Six warriors had run forward to engage the second Avatar, which was now occupied by parrying flashing swords, spears and axes. A redheaded warrior stepped in too close and was punished with a slash across her shoulder. She stumbled back out of the fight, allowing her colleagues to continue pressing the creature back against the valley wall. Obviously nor prepared to be fenced in, the Avatar suddenly scuttled forward, its blades threshing as it burst through the wall of warrior women before it. Warriors dove aside, except for one young woman who screamed in pain as slashing blades ripped open her belly and chest, sliced off her left arm and right hand, then finally beheaded her with a fluid flourish. Her butchered body crumpled, and the Avatar hissed in triumph, its third eye snapping open as it swept its gaze across the remaining warriors. However, Ninoor had not hired idiots, and the warriors averted their eyes to avoid being paralysed. Their lifeless colleagues body spasmed, legs jerking as blood continued to pump from its ragged stump of a neck.

The headless Avatar was sweeping its remaining blade around blindly, and Jina, Arasha and Inga closed in from three sides to finish it off. Jina cursed as she saw the creature’s right arms had nearly fully formed. 'How the hell do we kill it?' she shouted at Arasha.

'Not sure,' Arasha yelled back, 'but hacking it into little pieces should do the trick!'

'Great plan,' Jina muttered, although Inga lunged forward with her axe eagerly enough. The big woman grunted as she swung the heavy weapon, but as the blade descended, the Avatar whipped around as if it knew exactly where Inga was, lashing out with its blade. Inga yelled in pain as the weapon opened a slash on her chest, even as her axe bit into the Avatar’s breast, slicing the monster open. Once again the creature did not react to the damage, and Inga yanked her blade free and staggered back, clutching at the gash on her chest and mouthing curses.

'How can it still fight?' Jina moaned in despair, but then she caught sight of the creature’s decapitated head lying nearby, its crimson eyes still shining as it observed the ongoing battle. 'It can see its body still fighting.' she said in wonderment, then scurried towards the head with sword raised, intent on splitting the creature’s skull apart. As her sword swept down, the Avatar’s third eye snapped open, and Jina felt her bones turn to ice as her limbs froze and her chest tightened. She couldn't even gasp for breath under the creature’s paralysing gaze.

The Avatar instantly spun around to face the frozen gladiator, and as its new right arms flexed and sprouted new blades, it moved with intent towards Jina.

‘No!’ Arasha shouted, diving towards the creature with rapier extended. The Avatar paused to flick two blades at the duellist, who suddenly and gratefully found herself surrounded by reinforcements.

‘Looks like you need a little help,’ Coral cried, her own rapier lashing out to parry one of the Avatar’s swords. Three more warriors fell on the demon, which backed away under the onslaught of blades.

Still frozen, Jina became aware of Inga stepping up behind the Avatar’s decapitated head, a grin splitting her face as she raised her axe high. ‘Time to finish this thing,’ she muttered as she chopped down with one sure stroke. The head burst like a ripe fruit, showering shards of grey matter and streams of smelly fluid. Inga laughed in victory, but her laugh became a cry of pain as the remains of the head suddenly exploded in a bright flash, showering her with flaming debris. Jina fell back, abruptly released from the Avatar’s paralysing gaze but screaming in pain as burning matter spattered across her body. She rolled over and over to extinguish the painful burns quickly enough, but Inga stayed down writhing, keening in pain as her body sizzled.

‘Get back!’ Arasha cried as the Avatar’s body froze, then began to split asunder. Burning matter spewed from the cracks in its torso, then the creature seemed to fall into itself, leaving nothing more than a steaming puddle of smelly black fluid. Ninoor’s warriors stared at the remains in astonishment, but Arasha and Coral turned to shout at the warriors battling the second Avatar.

‘Strike for the head!’ Coral yelled. ‘Just make sure to keep back once its destroyed!’

Buoyed by their companions success, Ninoor’s warriors renewed their efforts, hacking at the second Avatar from all sides. Unable to mount an attack of its own, the Avatar backed away, until one warrior hefted a warhammer and brought the weapon overarm to crush the creatures head with one well-aimed strike. The Avatar staggered for a second, flame belching from its crushed skull, then burst apart in a spray of matter and fire, searing several warriors with sizzling debris. The women screamed in pain, but quickly smothered the fires. Even the pain of these burns could not prevent them from laughing and cheering in their victory against these supernatural opponents.

Jina was cursing as she rolled Inga’s writhing body over and over, desperately trying to quench the fires that seemed to be stuck to her body. Arasha appeared suddenly with a thick fur cloak, casting it over Inga and smothering the scalding fires. Inga was roaring in pain, and Jina’s eyes widened as her body seemed to swell beneath the cloak.

‘What’s happening to her?’ she cried, but Arasha pushed her aside.

‘Get out of here!’ she ordered. ‘Coral? I need your help here.’

The two duellists straddled Inga’s twisting body, and Jina hung back obediently, watching in amazement as one of her friend’s arms snaked out from under the cloak. Her well muscled arm was even larger than usual, inhumanly swollen and tipped with hooked fingers that twisted into vicious claws even as Jina watched. Blood slicked her taloned fingers as razor sharp claws burst from their tips to flail at Arasha, who appeared to be chanting words Jina could not make out. Coral too was chanting, and as their words increased in pitch and speed, Inga seemed to sag under the shielding cloak, and her clawed hand slackened back to something resembling normality as the two duellists bearing her down concluded what was obviously some form of magical incantation.

Arasha stood, heaving a shaky sigh before turning to Jina. ‘Don’t worry, she’ll be OK now.’

‘But she’s been badly burned . . .’ Jina said weakly.

‘They’ll have healed up already,’ Arasha told her airily. ‘She’s got a remarkably fast metabolism, although it doesn’t seem to effect her hangovers from what I’ve recently seen.

Arasha made to pass Jina, but the gladiator grabbed her arm in a vice like grip.

‘Enough! It’s clear she’s not human. What is she?’

Arasha’s face darkened as she gripped Jina’s hand and cast it away from her arm easily. ‘She’s human alright,’ she said, her voice low, ‘She just has a . . . small problem. I wouldn’t discuss it with her, if I were you.’

Jina glanced back at Inga’s huddled form as Arasha walked off towards the caravan to report to Ninoor.

‘What about you and your friend,’ she muttered under her breath as she watched Coral tend to Inga, making sure no-one else could see the woman’s body. ‘What secrets are you hiding?’

xxxxx

High above, Anya clenched her fists in chagrin as she watched Ninoor’s warriors defeat the Avatars. If it had been up to her she would have preferred to harry the caravan through the night, picking off a guard here and there, slaughtering the odd warrior who picked a sleeping space too far from the fire, easily inflicting more damage than the two summoned Avatars had managed. Koto had known the creatures would do little more than trim their numbers down a little, but even she would have expected more than this. As she watched the warriors prepare simple graves for the three women who had died, Anya knew she would have to look after her sister tonight, as the summoning spell had drained Koto badly. A shame, as it would not have taken long to clamber down to ground level and trim Ninoor’s retinue somewhat. A sly smile slid across her face as she imagined slitting the throats of unwary warriors, but she cast such pleasant matters from her mind as she scurried back from the ledge to where her sister slept restlessly.