Jerome Bigge - Warlady 6 - In Harm's Way

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"IN HARM'S WAY"

AN ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN

By Robert J. Simmons

Forward

When I married Carol back in 1976, (AND THAT WAS A LONG TIME AGO!) I hoped that we'd

settle down to a comfortable settled mar- ried life that would go on for year after year. For the first

fifteen years until the year 1991 that was the way that it was. Then suddenly we were "plucked" out of

our own time, our own era, and "dropped" into a strange hostile world over five centuries in our future.

A world where Man had fought a great WAR with alien beings from another world and lost back in the

21st Century. Where the mysterious and almost "supernatural" Priestesses of Lys now "controlled" the

entire solar system from behind the scenes. Here we quickly found adventure (a lot more than we

wanted) and a "cause" for which we soon found ourselves fighting for there in the service of Maris, the

Queen of Dularn against a great Empire.

The "world" of the 26th Century was a strange place, in many ways much like that of Rome at its

glory. A social order where capital ships of the navies were still heavy triremes, where the most

"advanced" missile weapons depended upon human muscle power. The sword was the preferred

personal weapon of choice, and human slavery was commonplace everywhere. The common form of

political organization was a constitutional monarchy with Queens now pre- ferred due perhaps to half

mythical legends of a "woman" who had once ruled the entire world way back in the Twenty First

Century.

"In Harm's Way" is a term that was often used by sailors in the old "square rigger" navies before the

development of steam. When you sailed up broadside to broadside with an enemy ship, you certainly

were "in harm's way" for sure as you faced a row of black cannon muzzles and knew that death might be

in the air now! On the other hand there are other ways of being "in harm's way" than in a ship to ship

battle. Certainly facing a group of 26th Century "feminists" who hate everything "male" would

"qualify"... Another is meeting up with the Lorr and the Women in an era when you least expected it. A

time before the Priestesses of Lys were "founded" by Janet Rogers. A time when Man still felt himself to

be the only form of intelligent life in the entire solar system. Before we learned the "TRUTH" there

beneath the surface of Mars.

Next Chapter

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"IN HARM'S WAY"

AN ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN

By Robert J. Simmons

Chapter One

My unicorn was just a bit skitterish on the icy street as he followed the trotting mare of the Royal

Warrioress ahead through the blowing snow of this late winter blizzard. Few of the resi- dents of Arsana

we passed paying us any attention, their collars pulled up high, caps and hats snugged down tight on

their heads as they scurried along the now slippery walks to their destina- tions, the store fronts and

brick condominiums side by side like a wall fronting the street on either side all tightly shuttered for the

night. Night had already fallen, and I thought regret- fully again of that fine roast beef dinner with

carrots and pota- toes that Kathi had fixed for Carol and I. I had been looking forward to a quiet peaceful

evening with my wife, nearly three months pregnant with our baby girl, Kathi attentive to our every

need, but when the Queen of Dularn "beckons", one dares not say "no"... As the Admiral of Dularn I had

my "duties" to the Queen.

It was the first of March, the year 2568 A.D. as I think of it. The people of this era saw it however as

521 A.W., marking time now from The War of 2047 between Earth and the planet Mars. In any case it

was not a night for man or beast, I growled to my- self, my greatcoat collar pulled up, my tricornered hat

as Admi- ral of the Royal Navy pulled down tight against the wind that threatened to blow it from my

head. My sword slapping against my thigh as my stallion trotted after the mare just ahead of him, a gust

of wind blowing a handful of icy snowflakes up into my face. Arsana is built on the ruins of Victoria on

the Island of Vancou- ver, although none but historians call the island that now. To everyone else now it

is "Dularn", or "God's Land" as the early settlers called it after The War of 2047 when Mankind reverted

to a barbaric and primitive style of life similar to that of Twelfth Century Europe during the Dark Ages

after the "fall" of Rome. It is a lovely land, at least in warm weather, but the winters can be unpleasant,

perhaps due to the long term climatic effects from the use of anti-matter bombs by the Lorr some five

centuries ago. The sudden "Ice Age" of the second half of the 21st Century caused by the Lorr's

bombing still not completely over even now.

So far as I knew our peace treaties with the Empire of Cali- fornia to the south still held, although

Darlanis is yet still an "ambitious" Empress, and one who still dreams of being a "second Janet Rogers",

the first having once been the ruler of the world. There was also Lorraine Richards, once of the 20th

Century like Carol and I, who as a student of weaponry and war, had become the "Warlady of

California" as well as the Queen of Free Trelandar, a land that once had been southern California in a

time now "myth".

Arsana is a walled city of about thirty thousand, somewhat smaller than such great capitals as Sarn

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and Trella to the south, but yet an adequate sized city, especially in a technology where one either rides

an animal or has said animal pull you in a buggy or carriage of some sort. In such a social order, life is

much different from that of the 20th Century, and a trip of a hundred miles can take you days by land,

instead of a couple hours behind the steering wheel of an automobile down a modern freeway. This is

the sort of a thing that eventually makes you realize just how much the world has "changed", and that

what you took for granted back in the 20th Century doesn't even exist now except as words in a history

book. There are no telephones, no TV or radio. You either go read a book or attend a play or lecture as

"entertain- ment" in this era. People work hard, harder than they ever did in our time, with a standard

"workweek" of about sixty hours or so with yet little if any machinery to "ease" one's labors. On the

other hand it is a social order that has a "vitality" about it that ours didn't. People in this society take

politics seri- ously, and one can hear serious discussions often carried on in the workshops and places of

business about the "merits" of var- ious ideas, about how "good" a Queen Maris Marn "is" or isn't. I

have no doubt that these people take their "politics" seriously.

Personal freedom is considerably greater than it was back in the 20th Century. The "right" to keep

and bear arms is taken for granted by all Dularnians. The idea that a "democratic" govern- ment could

dare "disarm" you and that you would not rise up against that government is something few people here

can "under- stand". The same is perhaps "true" in the field of drugs, in the issue of "prostitution", and a

number of other things. A "line" has been "drawn", and both the Queen and the Senate know better than

to "cross" it. Taxes are low, and "welfare" almost non-ex- istant... This is an "Aryan-Nordic" culture,

quite "different" from my era. The concept of "civil rights" being unknown here.

Hunched up on the back of my mount, I saw the gates of the palace opening before us, the

Warrioress trotting on through just ahead of me and then dismounting to take my reins as I swung my

leg up over the back of my unicorn stallion, my face already numb from the cold as the snowflakes came

pouring down from the sky, the lamps on their posts only dim glows in this blowing blizzard. The palace

there before us like a massive pile of cold wet stone.

"All I know, Admiral Simmons, is that her `majesty' said it was `important'," the woman repeated as

I faced her, her walnut hair there beneath her helmet now crusted with snow much like her chain mail,

her chattering teeth leaving no doubts now as to her own discomfort. No doubt she'd dash to the

guardhouse for a warm drink of some sort while warming herself next to the pot bellied wood burning

stove that was the usual source of heat here in this land. What would have been called a "Franklin Stove"

back in co- lonial America, which Dularn muchly resembles in many ways...

"I'm sorry to call you out on a night like this," Maris Marn smiled to me, taking my hands in hers,

the precious jewels in her tiara glittering in the lamplight while a slave girl looked on. The sweet curves

of the Queen's body visible there beneath the wool of a long gray dress that set off her green eyes, her

golden hair falling about her shoulders over her white furred cape. A very "attractive" woman, whom

Carol once told me reminded her quite a bit of the 20th Century TV actress Katherine Kelly Lang.

(Brooke Logan, of the soap opera, "THE BOLD AND THE BEAUTIFUL")* * It should be noted here

that many Dularnian women do "bleach" their hair, much like the woman of the 20th Century did. On

the other hand the number of "natural" blondes was higher than what would otherwise occur due to the

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activities of the Priestesses of Lys, who have the power to alter the genetic code to some degree. It is my

theory that this "technology" was first invented in the 21st Century during the time of Janet Rogers, and

has been car- ried down through the generations up to the Twenty Six Century.

"I assumed it was serious," I smiled back. The captain of the North Star, Sandra Steven, standing

there to one side of the room, her first officer, young Shari Johnson, seventeen, at her side. The North

Star was the "flagship" of Dularn, a hundred and twenty foot long raiding schooner mounting twenty

four ballistae and some six catapults. Last year with the "assistance" of the late raider North Wind we'd

taken her up against the Imperial's new "dreadnought", the "iron-clad" Athena under the command of

Lorraine Richards herself. We'd "won", but it had been the sort of a "victory" that had left sixty dead,

and almost that many wounded to one extent or another. I still had the scar in my leg from the ballistae

bolt I'd gotten hit by, and Carol had almost gotten killed in that battle, while Maris' left leg still both-

ered her a bit, especially when the weather was damp like this...

"I have a `mission' for the North Star," Maris said to me.

"Which you don't want anyone to know about," I smiled back.

"You will sail immediately," Maris replied, her eyes meeting mine. "And carry out my orders to the

best of your abilities." The Queen then giving me my sealed orders and a quick brief kiss! The few

words that she whispered into my ear left no doubts now!!

"Carol!" I breathed, my wife giving me a smile as she sat there beneath the stern windows of the

North Star, the lights of the city just visible across the harbor through the blowing snow. Her hazel eyes

filled with "concern" as she rose, her greatcoat open, hinting at the still youthful curves of her body

beneath. Her walnut hair wet with melted snow as I took her in my arms. I love my provocative

brownette more than life itself, for without her life would not be worth living. She is five seven to my

six one. In her now grew the little bit of flesh that would be our little girl in another six months. The

Priestesses had "done" what would have been only a "dream" back home in our own century.

"A `secret mission'?" she spoke, her red lips brushing mine. Her hand reaching up, brushing my dark

hair as my deep brown eyes held hers. Her mouth that of an "houri", her curvy body an erot- ic promise

of delight as my wife pressed herself up against me.

"`Sealed orders' I'm to open when I reach our destination," I answered. That was quite a ways to the

north, along the south- ern coast of what had been the State of Alaska back in our own time. I wondered

what Maris wanted with anything that far north! There among the iceburgs and everything else in that

icy sea...

"Kathi is putting a few things away for you," Carol said, a smile curving her soft moist lips as I still

held her in my arms. "I told her to keep an eye on you and see that you take proper care of yourself," my

wife continued, her eyes growing moist now. The memories flooding back of another time, another

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place, of my wife attired in a buckskin bikini peeling potatoes at the sink. Of "making love" in the

clearing behind the house, Carol wet and sweaty beneath me, her hazel eyes filled with love meeting

mine. Of playing all those little "games" that we used to do together.

"You are the Warlady of Dularn," I said. "Maris needs you." Carol was under our Constitution the

head of the military, and took her orders directly from the Queen herself. The concept of a "civilian

control" of the military is considered "foolish" now. The "national sport" of Dularnians is archery,

followed closely by public contests of the sword. They are a martial people, well used to defending

themselves from enemies, living in a hostile and dangerously savage world where such skills are often

needed if one wishes to live in freedom. Slavery was "commonplace", es- pecially that of women, who

were often sought by slavers of other nations, the light haired women of Dularn often sought as slaves.

"The ice cap extends further down than it did in our time," Carol said, telling me what I already

knew. No doubt she wished to make conversation, to have a last few words with me before she left the

ship. She was pregnant, carrying our daughter to be. I kissed her again, holding her, the memories

flooding back of oth- er times, other places. Of a warm sunny forest in a time now myth. Perhaps it was

just as well that Kathi interrupted things then. Neither Carol or I were truly of this era like another is. A

woman who many say is the greatest swordswoman of all time. A tall slender black haired Queen, a true

"Warlady" of the great Empire to the south of us. She who once had been Lorraine Duval.

"I have stowed away the things, mistress," Kathi spoke, her eyes having perhaps missed little of what

had been going on then. Her long heavy woolen dress half concealing her sensual curves. Her blondish

hair still wet with melted snow much like Carol's. The gleaming band of her slave collar was snug about

her throat. It was of fourteen caret gold, marking her well as what she was. A sudden knock at the cabin

door putting a quick halt to things.

"Enter," Carol spoke up, standing there beside me, her coat thrown back, her ornate weapons belt,

the sword, clothing, leav- ing little doubt as to her status as Warlady, a rank that made her second only to

the Queen of Dularn. A small brand on the in- terior of her right wrist marked her as being of the Caste

of Warrioresses. My wife's skill with a sword and bow was famous.

"We are ready to set sail, sir," captain Steven said, her hair white with snow where it wasn't covered

by her uniform hat. She was a good sized gal, the sort often considered "Dularnian".

"I will be leaving now," Carol spoke quietly then to us.

"You may get us underway, when convenient," I said to San- dra, the boat that had brought Carol

now disappearing into the darkness towards the docks. Kathi below, taking care of things.

"Going to damn `cold' there," Sandra smiled. I nodded back. Her eyes glittering in the light of the

lamps there on the quar- terdeck. She is a blonde, although the dark roots I've seen leave little doubt that

her own natural hair color isn't "light".

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file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry/Desktop/New%20Folder/FORWARD\.HTM"INHARM'SWAY"ANADVENTUREINTHESECONDDARKAGEOFMANByRobertJ.SimmonsForwardWhenImarriedCarolbackin1976,(ANDTHATWASALONGTIMEAGO!\)Ihopedthatwe'dsettledowntoacomfortablesettledmar-riedlifethatwouldgoonfor\yearafteryear.Forthefirs...

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Jerome Bigge - Warlady 6 - In Harm's Way

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