Warrior Girls
Copyright 2014 Bill Etem
Cover art by Katrina Joyner
Table of Contents
Chapter 1. `Let the lowly brother.…
Chapter 2. `And in the land were no women found so fair…
Chapter 3. `Then shall ye suck'
Chapter 4. And Moses Stretched out his hand over the sea…
Chapter 5. "Behold the days are coming', says the LORD…
Chapter 6. In that day the LORD will defend the inhabitants of Jerusalem…
Chapter 7. `If anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out…
Chapter 8. `Thus says the LORD GOD: `Woe to the women that…hunt souls…
Chapter 9. `The incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit…
Chapter 10. `When Jesus came into the region of Caesarea Philippi…
Chapter 11. Seventy weeks are determined upon thy people and upon thy holy city…
Chapter 12. `Every tree which does not bear good fruit is cut down…
Chapter 13. `The Devil walks about like a roaring lion' - 1 Peter 5. 8
Warrior Girls
Chapter 1. `Let the lowly brother glory in his exaltation, but the rich in his humiliation, because as a flower of the field he will pass away.' - James 1. 9 - 10
A winter's evening was just beginning in the City of Rosen an hour before sunset. A lady street preacher and Sevaladelia, the latter being a blonde warrior with a sword hanging from her belt, where holding a religious discussion. Near to them were many children playing in the street. Close to the kids was Seraphinaria, a 29-year-old Captain in the Avallonian Army. She turned to her assistant, Mirabrasantes, and said: `We need a man for our journey north. You know how lonely the nights get for us. I want that slave you see on the block over there.'
Mirabrasantes couldn't have been happier with the selection. Seraphinaria pointed to the slave that she wanted, pointing him out so that Mirabrasantes could make no mistake. He was indeed the same slave that Mirabrasantes had her eye on. `Take this gold,' said Seraphinaria. `Buy him. Fetch him to me.'
Mirabrasantes was forced to surrender a good deal of gold to the slave-dealers before she finally outbid the other people interested in buying him.
`What's your name?' asked Mirabrasantes as she led the man who was loaded with chains back to Seraphinaria.
`Al Mancini,' replied Al Mancini.
`You're good looking,' said Mirabrasantes.
`People always say I look just like the young Rock Hudson,' said Al.
`Never heard of Rock Hudson. You're clothes are bizarre,' Mirabrasantes was saying, `I mean aside from all the chains you're loaded with. What gives?'
`Have you heard of parallel universes?' asked Al.
`I should have guessed! We get some odd ducks that come through the portals every so often. We've named our kids after people those parallel universe travelers talk about. I suppose you're from one of those highly industrialized universes full of busybodies, ivory towers and military-industrial-complexes?
`Something like that. And now I'm a slave in some pre-internal-combustion-engine universe. Talk about your cruel twists of Fate. Why did you buy me?'
`The boss wants you as a slave, for herself, and for us other girls as well!' said Mirabrasantes with a smile on her face. `You'll be good for morale on a long journey that we have to make. We're going up north, 500 miles or more. The big idea is to recapture a walled city that used to belong to us, to our Kingdom of Avallonia. We want to get fame and riches out of the big bold adventure. We're all sick to death of being poor struggling single moms. So we have devised a plan!'
Three women scrutinized Al as he returned their gaze. Along with the previously described Sevaladelia, the blonde warrior who had been chatting with the lady street preacher, their leader, Seraphinaria, was a brown-eyed brunette, voluptuous indeed, whereas Mirabrasantes was fair, with her blonde hair blowing seductively in the languorous breeze. All three were wearing the standard uniform of woolen cloaks over leather jerseys over silk shirts.
`You're not gay are you?' asked Seraphinaria in her imperious way.
`When can I get out of these chains?' demanded Al Mancini, after he shook his head in negative fashion to answer her question.
`You look strong, powerful, fleet of foot. We'll have to keep you in chains,' explained Seraphinaria. `We can't have you running off.'
Sevaladelia stayed close to the kids, keeping a watchful an eye on her own kids and the other women's kids to see that they behaved themselves, while the other two warrior women took Al further into the city of Rosen on a shopping errand.
`Here's the famous Alpine shop I was talking about,' said Seraphinaria, to Al in particular. `We have to buy our gear at this place because we can't count on the Alpine shops further north having what we need. And we don't want to march 500 miles all the way back to here if we don't have to. Since there are glaciers and high mountains that we'll have to negotiate we'll need ropes, jumars, ice-axes, pitons, karabiners, crampons etc.'
They browsed the aisles of the store which sold surplus military paraphernalia, along with skis, winter garments, survivalist gear, hunting and fishing supplies to please the most demanding sportswomen, as well as high-end mountain climbing equipment. The proprietor, a balding, pot-bellied middle-aged man, gave them a cordial greeting but he didn't push himself the way pushy salesmen push.
`Do you think these Helmholtz® pitons and karabiners are worth their exorbitant price?' asked Mirabrasantes.
`O yes indeed,' said the owner of the shop, `though I must protest the suggestion that their price is exorbitant. Though the Helmholtz ironmongery costs a little more, it combines high tensile strength alloy steel, a flawless finish, and the confidence you will have knowing the Helmholtz name means the most exacting quality control standards in the industry. Everything is produced in state-of-the-art factories, and everything is tested and re-tested.
`I'm all for safety, but so often you can be perfectly safe and still keep some cash in your pocket,' said Mirabrasantes.
`Absolutely so. There is equipment which is both safe and less expensive. But the Helmholtz gear, quite simply, never ever never fails. There has never been a confirmed fatality due to the failure of a Helmholtz piton or karabiner. So that counts for something.'
`And what about this Verox Vorax® 9 mm perlon rope? Doesn't it have a high break-rate among climbers in the Karakoram and the Pamirs?' asked Mirabrasantes.
`Oh that's just a statistical anomaly. In the same way, because of some statistical quirk, your low-end priced Nanga Parbat® rope breaks and kills people at an alarming rate in the Bernese Oberland, primarily on the Jungfrau and the Eiger, but less so in the Dolomites, on the Walker, Mont Blanc and the Chamonix Aiguilles. But no statistician or math-literate mountaineer would say the bargain priced Nanga Parbat® line of rope makes a poor purchase for budget-conscious climbers, not at the low low price it is priced at.'
`Do you have 50 meter lengths of the 9 mm perlon Verox Vorax® rope in stock?' asked Seraphinaria.
`Indeed I do,' said the shopkeeper.
`Do you have 50 of those ropes?' asked Mirabrasantes.
`I do. I'll wager you're planning on laying in fixed ropes up the Rupal face,' said the shopkeeper, referring to a huge mountain 70 miles to the south of them.
`Something like that,' said Seraphinaria. We'll take 50 of those 50 meter ropes.'
`Excellent,' said the storekeeper, knowing his profit would be roughly £400 on the deal.
`I know these people who are really down on the Helmholtz gear,' Mirabrasantes was saying, still harping on Helmholtz. `They don't have solid proof, per se, but common on, let's not be naïve. The execs at Helmholtz Inc. must be strongly tem
pted to cut costs and quality corners. They could keep the retail price sky-high but cut cuts by cutting corners on quality, and thereby reap huge profits. Then after the profiteering execs get better jobs at bigger corporations the Helmholtz gear will cause lots of fatalities.'
`Their reputation,' responded the shopkeeper, `can't get any higher than it is right now, so it would be the perfect time for Helmholtz to cut way back on quality in order to make lots of money. They're only human over there at Helmholtz.'
`As you say they're only human,' said Seraphinaria.
`Now you got me putting two and two together. You got me weighing the probabilities they are cutting corners on quality to maximize profits.'
`The cost of the ropes and the recent purchase of the slave you see over there force us to economize when we purchase pitons, jumars, karabiners etc. And if Helmholtz is going to kill people to maximize profits then to hell with Helmholtz! But to be fair, there is a chance they are not cutting corners on quality to maximize profits. But come on, let's try to be realistic.'
`I'd say he's got enough chains on him,' said the shopkeeper, as he nodded toward Al.
`Bought him 5 minutes ago and he's already itching to get out of those chains,' said Seraphinaria.
`Just bought him, huh? His price tag wasn't exorbitant I hope!'
`He was on the pricey side,' said Seraphinaria, `him being young, tall, dark, handsome, and all that. I expected some sticker shock, but, let me tell you, I paid about all I cared to pay for him.'
`You must be an alien, hey fella?' asked the shopkeeper.
`Yep,' said Al.
`I base my learned conjecture,' said the shopkeeper, `that you are foreign to these parts not from the angry and hostile expression on your face, but from the fact that only aliens can be slaves. I can clue you in to the way we run things if you want.'
`I'm listening,' said Al.
`The menfolk hereabouts were mostly killed off in the wars between Avallonia and our northern enemies. Now it's mostly a warrior girl vs. warrior girl, toothless old fogey-man like me vs. your scrawny wee lad, ancient lady vs. young lass sort of war. Native men of your age who haven't been killed off are extremely rare and are in very high demand as husbands, but that doesn't help you any! Our laws are not so liberal toward aliens. Slavery, as you have learned, perhaps to your shock and dismay, has again become a respected institution among my people. The destruction of the more civilized customs and the nobler impulses has befallen this realm during the recent years of war and rapine, barbarism and brigandage, tumult, moral depravity and license.'
`And what about these Chogolisa® paraffin stoves?' asked Mirabrasantes as she browsed in the camp-stove section of the store. `I know they explode less often than your Mt. Waddinton® stoves, but isn't their added weight prohibitive?'
`I'm not happy about their heft either,' said the storekeeper. `But what can you do? If you buy the heavy stove you're buying something as safe as they come. But if you buy the light one then you're buying something that might blow up in your face and burn your eyes out.'
`And what about the Chogolisa's® reputation for refusing to light up when its 40 degrees below zero?' asked Mirabrasantes. `That's a life or death situation when you can't get the stove fired up and you're freezing in 40 below cold.'
`I suspect a lot of these people who have frozen to death because they couldn't get their Chogolisa's going at minus 40 were drunk. I never have any trouble with it, at least not when I'm sober.'
`All right, we gotta get this gear together, Mirabrasantes,' said Seraphinaria.
`Say, before you go,' said the shopkeeper, `your slave needs a good scrubbing and a shave. If you'd like you can use my tub, I mean, seeing that you're great customers, it's the least I can do. We don't get customers who buy 50 first-rate climbing ropes very often.'
`Splendid,' said Seraphinaria. `He certainly needs a bath and a shave before we show him off to the other girls. We'll take you up on your offer. I'll stay here and collect all the gear that we need, while you, Mirabrasantes, why don't you go with Al and the gentleman to the scrubbing tub. By the time you have Al Mancini presentable to decent society I'll have made a pile of the equipment that we're ready to buy.'
Al followed Mirabrasantes and the store owner to the back of the shop. They stepped through a door and entered a kitchen. The intrusion was rather awkward because the wife of the shopkeeper - a bedraggled woman in her mid 40s, and three juvenile males, were sitting round a table in the kitchen, eating fried chicken. The shopkeeper didn't bother making any introductions, saying merely: `save some of that chicken and some of those mashed potatoes and gravy for me' as the three intruders pushed past the diners seated at the table. The chains on Al rattled conspicuously in the silence of the kitchen and as he was led down a flight of steps to the tub in the basement. There was plenty of cold water but no hot water. The shopkeeper had the decency to put some cold water on a stove to heat it up, to help Al get a clean close shave with little if any bloodletting. Naturally, no one was going to give a razor to a big slave with an angry, hostile look on his face. So, once the water was hot, Mirabrasantes gave Al his shave. When this was done, Al began to unbutton his clothes. The chains on him prevented him from getting out of his clothes though.
`We'll get the chains off you in moment so you can get out of those clothes and get a good scrubbing,' said Mirabrasantes. `Wait here.'
Mirabrasantes then took the shopkeeper upstairs to get some reinforcements.
When the storekeeper and Mirabrasantes came back they also brought the shopkeeper's 3 juvenile sons and Seraphinaria. The two warrior women drew their swords, and the shopkeeper and his 3 sons were each brandishing hammers.
`All right now,' said the shopkeeper, `no tricks from you when we take the chains off, don't try to escape or we'll clobber you with these here swords and hammers.'
Seraphinaria had the key, and she unlocked the chains.
`Don't try anything,' said Seraphinaria.
Once they got the chains off of Al he was able to take off all of his outer garments and underwear, which needed to be either washed or burned. Seraphinaria put one end of a leg chain round Al's ankle and she secured the other end to a water pipe. Mirabrasantes then asked the shopkeeper to help her find some new underwear and new outer garments for Al, to help her clothe Al in woolen and leather garments that would be more appropriate for the cold Avallonian winters then the thin cotton stuff he had been wearing.
Al, being left all alone in the basement, gave himself a few rounds of soaping up and rinsing off while he waited for his captors to return. And while he was lathering up and rinsing off he heard some creaking on the stairs. The shopkeeper's wife was sneaking down to the basement to have a peek at the naked Al Mancini. She didn't say too much as she stared at the well-muscled stranger.'
`I brought ye some chicken meat in case ye was hungry,' said the woman. She put the chicken on the side of the tub and then retreated back up the stairs. Al wanted to devour the meat quickly. It might be that the shopkeeper or Mirabrasantes would not want to see him eating, because he knew slave-masters could be capricious, and of course they could be cruel, and he was in no great position to defend himself from blows, as his ankle was still bound to a chain. If his captors became unreasonable, if they didn't like looking at him while he ate the chicken, they might slap him around. He obviously didn't want to be beaten by unreasonable masters. He could strangle a mean slave-master even while loaded with chains if he was left alone with one. But Al was not a cruel or violent man. He knew he could bide his time and escape without having to strangle anyone. He hurried the whole dining procedure, making it into a barbaric procedure. He quickly tore the chicken with his finders and then stuffed the meat between his mashing jaws and sucked the semi-chewed mass down his throat before Mirabrasantes and the shopkeeper returned. When his dinner had all been shoved into his mouth and dragged down his throat, he looked about the tub and found some per
fumed bath oil. It smelled good so he rubbed some of it all over his arms and chest and shoulders. Then he rinsed it off with cold water. His skin was now extremely feminine in its fragrance. Al didn't have time to lather up with un-scented soap and then rinse off again because he heard lots of footsteps above him. Then the stairs were resounding with thuds. Al Mancini, stripped of every last bit of clothing from his body, was especially self-conscious at the moment, because 6 other people were staring at him, staring at his at glistening naked aromatic skin which was as feminine and as fragrant as a bouquet of flowers, because of that bottle of perfumed bath oil he had been playing with.
`He smells like a high-priced prostitute,' said one of the juveniles while his brothers laughed.
The sweet-smelling Al didn't lunge at anyone or try to make a break for the stairs. He just put on his new underwear and his new woolen outer garments, and then they put the old chains on him again, while all the time he was under the prying scrutiny of these 6 people armed with swords and hammers. Then it was up the stairs, through the kitchen, through the store, and out into the street.