Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Invid Fan
Title: A Leader Born
Universe: The Saga of Nowy Poland
Summary: A royal family assassinated.  A nation in chaos.  A people in
flight.  Into this was brought a teen from another world, an heir to the
royal throne.  He is no messiah, savior, or warlord.He is their King.
Keywords: mf, ff, minimal sex, fantasy

   ****

   Prologue



   "You wouldn't think stone would burn."

   Captain Putaski looked away from the distant fire, eyes regarding his
sergeant.  The man, a decade his senior, was calm, his battle worn face
serious.  He couldn't be, though.  Not a man with his...

   "Oh," the sergeant continued, eyes never leaving the flames of their
city, "I know, it's everything else.  But, still, it DOES look like the
very stones of the keep itself are ablaze.  It makes you wonder."

   The captain looked back.  Yes.  It did look like the walls themselves
were on fire.  Not the keep, though.  Not yet.  Brave men still manned the
battlements...

   A horn sounded.  Distant.  Strong.  He had hoped not to hear that
tonight.  To have at least an extra day.  God was against them.

   "That's it then," Sergeant Wojo said, nodding.  "They're crossing the
Warta.  Lech will put up a fight, but the elves may have him withdrawing
into our rearguard by morning." He tightened the grip on his reins.  "We'd
best keep the wagons moving."

   "Rotate the civilians riding at every rest, change the animals when you
can.  Speed does us no good if the draft animals die."

   "We'll do our best, sir."

   Yes.  Their best.  Captain Putaski sighed.  His best had not been
enough.

   With no more words needed, the two kicked their mounts, turning to
descend the small hill.  Before them, under the half moon, a long line of
wagons and people slowly crossed the open plain, towards the forest road
beyond.  The human exodus had begun.

    The Saga of Nowy Poland: A Leader Born By Invid Fan (c)2013

   Chapter 1

   James looked down at the textbook, trying to care.

   It was hard.  Damned hard.  Not the contents of the large hardcover
book. No, not that, although he found math annoying.  It was the caring. 
He was, or would be, a history major.  Maybe.  He wasn't sure.  It was only
freshman year, so, really, no hurry on that.  But whatever his major, it
would not be math based.  That was for certain.  He knew his strengths, or
at least interests, and they did not lean towards equations and cosines. 
So why was he forced to take this one stinking course?

   Somewhere, his parents were laughing at him.

   James pushed away from the desk, letting his body fall back against the
chair.  His roommate was gone.  That was a blessing, at least.  The guy was
an idiot.  Or at least annoying.  They were the same in his book.  The only
thing worse than studying math was being interrupted while you tried to
study math.  Now, at least, he could enjoy sitting there ignoring his
studies.  It felt good.  Like freedom.

   Slowly, he let his chair swivel back and forth.  All chairs should
swivel.  A chair that did not move was, really, not a chair.  Rock, swivel,
whichever way it chose to swing.  Probably not both.  A chair that was bi
in that regard tended to be unstable.

   Not unlike certain people.

   James put a hand to his forehead.  He had to stop dwelling on that.  Not
his fault.  She said she was bi going in.  That the person she broke up
with him for was a girl was NOT a reflection on his manhood, his virility.
As far as he could tell, Sue never had any problems with him in that
department.  No.  This was just...  emotional.

   Which, in a way, was worse.

   Maybe she'd come back.  That was possible.  This was college, after all.
The first time she'd been able to, openly, date another girl, instead of
sneaking around.  Could he blame her for taking that opportunity?

   Yes.  Yes he could.

   Somewhere in the dorm, there was a loud, low noise.  The lights
flickered.

   Great.  Why had he decided to live on campus?  He could be at home.  In
his room.  With is parents downstairs...

   Ah.  Right.

   This wasn't much better, though.  He had freedom in exchange for
distractions.  Like the one in the hall.  Someone was running.  Many
people. It wasn't that late, true, just barely dark outside, but still...

   A girl screamed outside his door.

   That...  could not be good.  James spun his chair around, standing.  It
had to be something stupid.  Nobody would be attacking a girl at 7 PM in
the dorm hallway.

   The door to his dorm room burst open, the lock offering no resistance.
Men burst in.  Adults, a swirl of dark leather and tarnished steel.  Dirty.
Grizzled.  They were armed, not with guns, but swords, clad in some sort of
old armor, metal chest plates over dark red jackets, a stylized eagle on
some of their chests.  Re-Enactors from Fort Niagara?  Cosplay fans from
some show he had never heard of?  Behind them, James saw one with his hand
over the mouth of a girl from down the hall.  Her eyes were wide in terror
behind her large glasses.

   His own were probably just as terrified.

   One of the intruders quickly moved to stand before the freshman.  He was
middle-aged, black hair white at the temples.  Sharp blue eyes set into a
worn face searched for something in James' soul.  He held something in his
left hand.

   "Are you James, son of Fredrick, son of Fredrick, son of Leszek, son of
Fredrick?"

   He knew two of those names.  Well, one, as that name was used three
times.  He blinked, hands gripping the chair behind him for support.  His
father had been Fredrick Jr, so...

   "Um...  yes..."

   The object in the man's hand vanished, passed to someone else.  He
grabbed James by the arm, grip strong, but somehow without malice.

   "Thank God we found you." The man turned, expression hard.  "Close in!
We're going!"

   James saw the girl pushed away, the men still in the hall evacuating it
into his room.  An alarm sounded, someone somewhere realizing something was
horribly wrong.  He found himself surrounded.

   "Sergeant, now!"

   The room flashed.  James squeezed his eyes shut, lights dancing before
them.  The blaring alarm went dead.



   ****



   James opened his eyes.

   The room was gone.  He saw trees.  Pines.

   That...  was not right.

   The soldiers surrounding him let out a collective sigh.  James saw them
relax, felt the grip on his arm release.  Here, in the star lit night among
the trees, they were no longer strange anachronisms, costumed madmen.  The
world and they were one.

   One what, he did not know.  The change from the florescent light of his
room had his eyes blinking, adjusting.  So, too, his mind tried to do the
same.  He was...  somewhere else.  Like in some movie.  Could he accept
that?  Was this real?

   James kicked at the pine needle covered ground.  His sneakers pushed up
a clump of dark earth.

   It seemed solid enough.

   "Your Grace."

   James looked up.  The soldier was looking at him.  So, too, were the
others.  He looked around.  There were a dozen of them, he now saw.  Well,
maybe ten.  Mentally, he was still not all there.  He blinked.  That
helped, some.  Turning back to the man who seemed to be in charge, it
dawned on him that the man had been addressing him.  James wet his lips.

   "What?"

   "Are you all right, Your Grace?"

   "Your..." He put a hand to his head.  "No.  I'm not OK.  What the fuck
is going on?  Who are you?"

   "I am Captain Putaski, Your Grace.  Commander of what is left of the
Royal Guard." He bowed his head.  James just stared at him.

   "That's not helping, you know."

   "I'm sorry, Your Grace."

   "My name is James.  I'm nobody's grace."

   "I'm afraid you are, and I apologize.  Given who you are, what we have
done is...  presumptuous.  Once this all has settled, you may deal with me
as you wish.  Just spare my men, as they acted under my orders."

   James cast his eyes around him again.  He could make them out better. 
Soldiers, a few young, a few old.  He had seen movies.  News shows. 
Footage of real soldiers in combat, interviews with them afterwards, or
even during.  These men...  were real.  He felt that, somehow.  They had
fought.  Killed.  Seen their friends die.  They looked at him with a
strange mixture of suspicion, disdain, and hope.  The last was something he
had never expected to inspire.

   "We should get a move on." The oldest of the soldiers was talking to the
Captain.  He had a bushy mustache, under a rather large nose.  "I don't
like being away from camp."

   The Captain nodded.

   "Your Grace, if it pleases you, I will tell you what I know as we walk.
We have about a half hour journey ahead of us before we are safe."

   Safe.  This world wasn't safe.  That was not good.  But, then, how safe
had Dorothy been in Oz?  Not very, but for a pre-teen she had handled it
well.  Surely at eighteen he could at least meet her standards.

   "Sure.  OK.  Just use small words, for now."



   ****



   He was the King.

   King.

   "We don't know how they did it," Captain Putaski was saying.  He walked
beside James, the others forming a protective circle around the pair.  One,
seemingly close to James' own age, was up ahead.  Scouting, he assumed. 
That was about the extent of his tactical knowledge, gained from movies of
questionable accuracy.  "We knew the army was coming, of course.  You can't
hide something that large as it crosses the world.  But when the entire
royal quarters burst into flames..." The man shook his head.  "There was
nothing we could do.  King Lawenza was dead.  The Queen, the children... 
all gone."

   James noticed the man was rather matter of fact in his description.  As
if the loss of royalty was an inconvenience, rather than tragedy.

   "So what am I?"

   "We don't know." James couldn't help but smile.  Honesty like that could
be trusted.  "There's only one magical item in the entire kingdom, which up
till now was kind of pointless.  It points to the next in line to the
throne.  That is always the eldest son, so it would just point to him. 
Meaningless."

   "Didn't it," a soldier walking beside them put in, "show that Haym was a
bastard?"

   "We already knew that," the Captain growled.  "He would have made a
better king than...  well, who we got.  The point, though, is this time it
gave us your name.  Your lineage.  And, this is key, it took us to you and
brought us back." The man shook his head.  "We weren't really expecting
that."

   "Neither was I," James said dryly.  "How do I get home?"

   "You don't, Your Grace.  As I said, I'm sorry.  We brought you here to
be our King against your will.  If we had thought about it..."

   James couldn't help it.  He barked out a laugh.

   "Now that you've seen me, and know I'm not King material, you mean!"

   "Yes."

   "Don't blame you.  Is there at least some prophesy about me saving the
world to give me some hope that this isn't a horrible mistake?"

   "Prophesies are for the desperate," scoffed one of the soldiers.  The
Captain nodded.

   "Yes.  So, while I wish to God that there was one for us, unfortunately
we are on our own."



   ****



   There had been some possibility, before, that he was being conned. 
That, somehow, he had been drugged, taken from his dorm, and woken in some
patch of woods nearby.

   The sight before him dispelled that hope.

   As his companions and/or guards brought him out of the trees, the camps
spread out before him.  A road, probably dirt, split the long meadow.  On
either side, wooden wagons, pulled into circles.  He saw campfires.  Heard
voices, men, women, children.  From the small rise he stood on, he reckoned
he could see thousands of people.  People who...  what?  What were they, to
him?  Or him to them?

   "Your people," Captain Putaski said.  "All who escaped from Nowy Kiev."

   "What happened?" James took a few steps forward, as if that would bring
understanding.  The Captain sighed.

   "We failed.  Nowy Kiev had withstood sieges before, when we had allies,
but our city was not ready.  Our people were not ready.  I..." James turned
as the man paused.  The Captain's gaze was to the west.  "I ordered an
evacuation, before the Elvish devils could cross the Wisla, cut the road.
We fought to buy time, not save our home.  Every second sent more families
out into the wilderness."

   "How many?" James again looked at the scene before them.  The wagon
circles bordered the road as far as his eyes could see.

   "Ten thousand?  Twelve?"

   "Ten..." The scope of it!  Ten thousand refugees!  They had to be fed!
Protected!  Oh, God!

   "Who knows.  We're trying to organize.  I have troops out on either
side, screening our flanks.  Riders are going to the hamlets, the farms,
telling everyone to strip the barns and join us.  We could be twenty
thousand by the time we reach the sea."

   "The sea?"

   "Unless we come up with something better.  If the damned Elves cross,
pursue, we're in deep trouble.  I want to at least get us across the Orlan.
That's another week for the head of the column, let alone the rearguard."

   James' head was swimming.

   "Why?  Why did they attack you?"

   Another pause.  The Captain's gaze was now on the refugees.

   "I am a simple officer, Your Grace.  I have no part in politics, in
Court.  They came."

   Which means, James assumed, the late king did something stupid.  It did
matter, if there was to be some sort of peace later, or even a cease fire.
But, as James was not their ruler, there was no point in thinking on it
further now.



   ****



   It was not until they were almost at the gap in the nearest wagon ring
that James realized what his eyes had been telling him.  He was not the
most observant, when it came to some things.  Fashion, for one.  Decor for
another.  James just didn't care.  Thus, it was not until entering the
torchlight before the two guards that he recognized the Polish flag.

   He stopped.  A white stripe over red.  A red stylized eagle.  The
clothing, he now realized, had a medieval quality.  He had been writing it
off as just generic "fantasy world" stuff, but now he saw eastern European.
The guards, he now saw, wore helmets shaped like half a football, leather
with metal studs running up its length where the thick strips were fastened
together.  They held long spears, probably actually pikes.  What the
difference was, he didn't know.

   The Captain stopped beside him.

   "Something wrong, Your Grace?"

   "I'm just an idiot, that's all.  You're from Poland?"

   He heard those around him react to that name.  The Captain's eyes
narrowed.

   "Are you not, Your Grace?"

   "My ancestors were, yes." They left a hundred years ago, his
Great-Great-Grandmother coming over as a little girl.  Details he thought
could wait till later.  "It's just...  well, however I'm related to the
royal line, it just got even more complicated."



   ****



   Passing between the wagons, James gave them a close look.  They were
large, easily twelve feet long, perhaps more.  Thick planks of wood were
bolted together, looking more like a structure than a vehicle.  The sides
were high, taller than a man, with slits in the top half that looked like
the notches in castle walls.  For arrows, he thought.  This was a wagon
fort of some kind, set on oversized wheels.  As the back came into view, he
saw not only did the top half of the wagon fold down, giving it tall but
not unreasonable sides for regular use, but half of it could become a ramp
allowing easy entry into the wagon.  Ingenious.

   Not every wagon in the circle was one of these.  That made sense.  What
they had were probably spread out among the caravan.  Among the refugees.

   On seeing the people huddled inside the protective wall, he despaired.
They looked...  beaten.  Without hope.  They were gathered around a half
dozen small fires.  Women.  Children.  Some men, mostly older.  Their
clothing was a mix of what was probably high fashion and rags.  Rich and
the poor.  Surviving, all other thoughts put aside.

   A baby cried.  James instinctively looked, following the sound to a pair
of figures far from any fire.  It cried again, an anguished sound. 
Ignoring those with him, he made is way around the edge of the camp.

   The girl was a few years younger than him, old enough to be the mother
of the child, young enough to be a sister.  She wore a dark dress, exact
color hard to tell in the night.  Her hair was black, done up in a long
braid down her back.  She sat on the ground against a wooden barrel, a
crying baby in her arms.  It looked no more than a month old, its face
scrunched up as it bawled out its need.  She was rocking it, her own silent
tears shining on her cheeks.

   "Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry..." Whether her voice spoke to the babe
or herself, James did not know, but he felt his own tears come.  Beside her
sat a young boy, perhaps ten.  His hair was brown, short.  He saw James,
eyes widening.  He shook the girl.  Her eyes rose.

   They were beautiful.

   "Hi," James said, softly, stopping before them.  He dropped down to one
knee, their eyes following.  "My name is James.  Do you need anything?"

   The girl looked down, her face unsure, confused.  James smiled in a way
he hoped was comforting.

   "That's a beautiful baby.  Is he hungry?"

   "I don't know," she said, voice almost a whisper.  "I think so.  He
won't stop crying."

   "What's his name?" James reached his index finger out.  The babe lashed
a fist out, hitting it.  Sensing this was something new, the crying
slackened, fingers moving to encircle the strange digit.  James laughed. 
"His grip is strong."

   "Not mine," she said, shaking her head.  "We found him.  I don't know
his name.  And I don't have milk.  A woman gave us some around noon, but
now nobody has any to spare.  He keeps crying..."

   James turned his head, looking up at the soldiers behind him.  This was
no way to treat anyone.  Captain Putaski nodded slowly, turning to give a
command to one of his men.  James turned back to the girl.

   "We'll find some milk for you.  I'm sure it's just a matter of asking
the right way.  Have you two eaten?  Do you need anything?"

   The girl looked back at him with wonder.  The boy spoke.

   "We had some sausage, when the wagons stopped.  It was just one link,
but it was good.  I tried to give a bit to the baby, but he didn't want it
so I ate it all."

   "What's your name?"

   "Felek."

   "A good name."

   "She's Ewa."

   James nodded to her.  Her eyes dropped down into her lap.  James
considered himself a reasonable judge of people.  Ewa was a strong girl. 
Stronger than this.  She had just lost hope.  Lost sight of why she should
fight.  He longed to reach out, touch her cheek.  He didn't know how these
people were, though, about such things.  He contented himself with calming
the baby.

   "You're doing a good job with him."

   "Mom would know what to do," Ewa said, eyes on his baby held finger. 
"Mom always knew."

   "Do you have family?"

   "We don't know," Felek said.  He added his finger to the infants
entertainment, the boy grabbing it with his free hand.  "Ow.  Our dad was
helping somewhere.  Mom sent us out with the people while she went to try
and find him."

   There were probably many like this.  Many families divided.  He thought.
Remembered the lists he had seen in news stories.

   "Captain.  We need to take a census, as soon as possible.  Tonight,
even."

   "Your Grace?"

   There was amusement and annoyance in that reply.  Who was he, after all,
to assume they weren't already doing all they could?  Yet, there was this
before him.  Things were slipping through the cracks.

   "I want the names of everyone in the caravan, grouped by family name if
possible.  Give each circle of wagons a name or number, and take a census
of everyone in each.  They can do it themselves before they break camp in
the morning, or even as they walk.  They're to then make one copy to send
to me, and then make as many more copies as they can to spread through out
the wagons.  They'll be posted when we stop tomorrow night, so people can
see if their loved ones are alive somewhere ahead or behind them."

   "I don't see the need..."

   "You are also," James continued, turning to look at the soldier,
ignoring the amazement on the two siblings' faces, "to mark on those lists
craftsmen whose services we may need.  Carpenters, smiths, whatever.  Also
locate the orphans, the abandoned children.  So we know where to get
supplies to.  I don't want people starving a half mile behind those with
plenty."

   James held the man's eyes.  He did not know these people.  Was not
familiar with what was, and was not, done.  Hell, he didn't know what this
man HAD done, to save these people.  His best, yes, and damned good that
probably was.  But...

   The captain slowly nodded.

   "That...  is a good suggestion, Your Grace.  Yes." He gave a more
definitive nod.  "And we should do the same for each unit.  Get a full
accounting of our military strength, let them know the fate of their
families.  There will be fewer desertions if we can reassure them we know
where everyone is."

   "The sooner they get started, the more can be done tonight."

   "Agreed."

   A soldier came up, the one who had gone off in search of milk.  He held
an animal horn, from a cow or this world's version of such.  It had a small
scrap of leather or something tied around the small end.  He handed it to
James.

   "It's only half full, but it should do." He looked at Ewa, nodding to
the shocked girl.  "Just find a guard and ask when you need more, Miss.  No
child should go hungry."

   "Agreed," James said.  He handed the girl the primitive bottle.  "Here.
See if he'll drink."

   She took it, quickly adjusting the baby in her arms.  She brought the
small end of the horn to his mouth.  Knowing what to do, the babe began
sucking.  It released the two fingers it had captured, hands going up to
touch the source of its food.  Ewa looked up at James, and the soldier.

   "Thank you...  thank you..."

   "You're welcome."

   James stood, his body protesting a bit.  He was not in the best of
shape, although thin.  He walked back over to the Captain.

   "Sorry about that."

   "Don't be, Your Grace.  I think it told us both quite a bit about each
other."

   "Yes.  Yes it did."



   Chapter 2

   James sat in the firelight, contemplating his future.

   It still could be a dream.  A fantasy.  Or, maybe, a wonderland.  He had
liked those types of books growing up.  The ones that had Dorothy go to Oz,
or Alice to Wonderland.  There were others too.  He remembered one where
kids go to this place where their steel silverware set from a picnic basket
had magical power.  The key to all those stories, at least to him, was that
the place was real.  It was not a dream to be woken from.  Yes, the kids
returned home at the end, but what they did actually mattered.  It was not
forgotten by those they had helped.  The Wizard of Oz movie sucked in that
regard.

   If this WAS real, he wasn't sure how he would emotionally deal with it.
To never see his family again.  His friends.  True, at that particular
moment he was not, if he was honest with himself, "close" to anyone in
those groups.  His parents were just...  there.  It would take awhile
before not being able to talk to them began to eat at his mind.  He'd miss
Sue.  He wanted her still as a friend, even if she was now with someone
else.  She had not said she no longer loved him.  She had never said
that...

   He took a deep swig from the mug in his hand.  It was something
alcoholic.  Some kind of beer, he thought.  It wasn't vodka, at least.  He
stayed away from that stuff, but if these were Pole's that might be the
drink of choice.  Maybe he could change that, as King.

   King.

   Well, he had worn that paper crown at Burger King before.  That had to
provide some previous experience.

   He looked around.  The people were staying away from him, but he felt
their eyes.  It was not that he was a stranger.  In this chaos, many here
were strangers.  His dress was odd, but jeans and a t-shirt were not THAT
different than the pants and tunics the other men wore.  Only the English
writing on it could be considered weird.  It was his guard they were
reacting to.  The soldier standing behind him, eyes focusing on anyone even
thinking of approaching.  James could hear them, though.  Hear the murmurs.
The gossip.  The Captain had not been restrained in his use of the term
"Your Grace".  They would be wondering what the hell this could mean.

   Join the club.

   James turned his head, looking up at the guard.  The guy looked about
his age, maybe a few years older.  He had a cousin who joined the Marines,
went off and did a tour overseas.  This guy reminded James of him.  The
guard was even clean-shaven, unlike many of the men he'd seen.

   "What's your name?"

   The guard looked down, startled.  He straightened.

   "Your Grace?"

   James came VERY close to telling the guy that was an amazing
coincidence, his name seemed to now be "Your Grace" as well.  He resisted.

   "What is your name, soldier?"

   "Aleksy Duda, Your Grace."

   "And how should I call you?"

   "Duda, Your Grace."

   Could he say that name with a straight face?  Yes, he could, if James
had any intention of surviving in this world.  He nodded.

   "Duda it is, then." James paused, considering.  "Duda, I was wondering
if you could fill me in on some things."

   "Your Grace?"

   "Tell me about the city.  Nowy Kiev."

   The guard looked at him, expression easy to read.  James smiled.

   "Yes, I am a stranger, who knows nothing of this place, or its people.
Treat me as a child in that respect."

   "Even the babes know of the City," Duda said, his grinning face now
looking like that of a high school freshman.  James was hit with another
aspect of this reality he found disturbing.

   "Were you born there?"

   "No, Your Grace.  My family has a farm, on either side of a small stream
that runs into the Warta.  I was the youngest of seven, so since I wasn't
needed for labor I was sent to the Keep to train for the Guard."

   "What was the city like?"

   Duda shifted his stance, relaxing, eyes on the fire.  James kept his
gaze on the young man.

   "Big.  We had gone there often, of course, for fairs and to trade.  The
Keep, the first thing built of stone when we came to this land, they say,
is on a triangle of rocky land where the Wisla and Warta rivers come
together, forming a natural moat on two of the three sides.  Large stone
bridges, high enough to let ships pass beneath, crossing the two rivers to
the far banks, where the actual city was built.  A large stone wall
encircles everything.  Protecting us." He paused.  James waited, not
knowing what to say.

   "The stones were old," Duda said, voice softer.  "So old.  When I was
standing guard, bored, I'd just run my hands over it.  Wondering how many
others had done the same over the centuries." His voice hardened.  "When I
think of those Elvish devils running their green hands over those ancient
stones, I just want to puke."

   "Was it the oldest city, then?"

   Duda looked at him, startled.

   "Oldest?  There are no other human cities."



   ****



   James was about at the limit of how long he was going to just sit there
by the fire when the officers of Nowy Kiev began to enter the camp.  They
came into the wagon circle in ones and twos, riding magnificent horses. 
Their armor shone in the light of the torches and campfires, polished steel
breastplates, helmets stylized versions of the leather cones the guards
wore.  Many also had steel shoulder and wrist armor, all worn over a deep
red long coat.

   Many of their shoulders were slumped under the weight of, not the armor,
but what it had not prevented.

   They gathered near the gate as they dismounted, horses sent to join the
draft animals on the other side of the camp.  James could feel their eyes.
These were those in command.  Those who had the lives of these people in
their hands, yet would...  SERVE him.  His army.  That was so, so wrong. 
Who was he, to be in charge of soldiers?

   They, naturally, were asking the same question.

   Last to enter, riding next to Captain Putaski, were two men in the most
amazing armor James had ever seen.  It couldn't be real, practical.  It was
fantasy armor, as silly as the steel bikinis they put women in on the cover
of bad books.  Sticking out the back of their breastplates, were...  wings.
Two silver wings, feathers pointed straight back, the two rods holding the
white feathers curving up and almost over the rider's heads.  James thought
maybe they were part of some ceremonial guard, a show unit to parade around
and look good.  As the mass of officers began to move towards him, one of
the winged men turned.  James saw half the feathers blackened or burned
away.

   No.  These men had fought.

   The people, already giving the stranger from a strange land lots of room
in this crowded camp, backed away even farther as the officers came to the
fire before James.  The men sat on stools half the height of his, not
speaking, other than occasional quiet words to each other as they circled
the fire.  Their eyes were on him, with the occasional glance at the young
woman passing around cups of drink.  The two with the wings placed
themselves closest to him on his left.  A commander and his lieutenant,
most likely.  An elite unit?  Best not to guess.  James had to just wait,
absorb everything.

   Captain Putaski came to a stop to his right, bowing his head to James.
He nodded back in acknowledgement.  The Captain looked around the circle.

   "Your Grace, these are most of the officers of your army, those within
range of my messengers.  We will have formal introductions later, but I'm
afraid protocol must be sacrificed at times like this."

   James nodded.  He felt he should speak, but didn't know what to say.  He
had the sudden thought that he shouldn't be able to say anything, as he
didn't speak a word of Polish, and he knew they weren't speaking English.
Another impossibility to toss on the pile.

   "My fellow officers," the Captain went on, "may I introduce to you
James, son of Fredrick, heir to the Throne of The Poles."

   He could physically feel their eyes.

   "Your Grace." The chant of his title came from the ring of warriors,
some strong, some...  skeptical.  He nodded in acceptance, hoping he
neither appeared unsure or cocky.  Thankfully, Putaski took charge again.

   "I know you're all tired, so we'll just get into it.  Lech, it's good to
see you.  Tell us what happened."

   One of the men leaned forward, cup held between his hands.  His head was
bare, short black hair an unruly mess.  His mustache was neat, though, and
his tired voice clear.

   "We held the keep for a full day.  That's what happened.  It wasn't
anything we did, that's for sure.  We held off the first attack, drove off
that first rush across the Warta, then just sat back and watched as the
damned elves decided to take a break and loot.  Pointy eared savages."

   "Is that what they're doing on this side?" another asked.  "You're not
in contact with any of their units, are you?"

   The winged officer straightened in his seat.  James could feel the
exhaustion rolling off him.

   "I have my only whole unit screening behind us.  They haven't sent
anyone after us, as of twenty minutes ago.  We hit them hard at the end. 
Made them think."

   "We could have held longer," the one called Lech said.  "We were
emptying the storerooms while we watched the west city torn apart.  Sent at
least another thirty wagons out.  They must have finally noticed what we
were doing, as they brought those infernal catapults over the Warta up
stream, rolling them down towards us where they could hit the Wisla bridge.
Once it looked like we were going to get trapped, we pulled out."

   "You could have bought us another day." That came from the other side of
the fire.  Lech stood, armored body trembling.

   "I didn't see any of you stay!  We did our best, damn it!  The entire
north curtain wall fell in!  They weren't going to send another wave until
they had reduced us to rubble!  Staying under the rubble wasn't a tactical
advantage!"

   The winged man now stood, towering over James as he looked across the
circle.  His gaze was that of one who knew his authority, knew his power.

   "Captain Watesa did his best.  Lech had us sortie, try and knock those
damn rock throwers out.  We couldn't get within a hundred yards of them!  I
lost good men trying to buy you time to keep running, so I don't want to
hear any more about what we could or couldn't do!  We did what we did, and
now we're here!" He sat back down.  His companion passed him a cup, the
contents quickly downed.  Slowly, Lech Watesa sat down as well.  Even from
here, James could see how haunted his eyes were.  No one was questioning
whether he had done enough more then the man himself.

   Putaski looked at another man, armor simpler than the others.

   "How does it look ahead of us?"

   "Clear, so far.  If Kosciuszko can spare some of his men, I can do a
better job sweeping ahead." The man next to James looked at his companion,
who nodded.  Kosciuszko accepted the opinion of his officer and nodded back
to the man speaking.  "Thanks.  We're spread too thin."

   "Tell us something we don't know," someone grumbled.

   "Have you made contact with anyone from Daraja?" Captain Putaski asked.
The man shook his head.

   "No.  We will tomorrow.  We saw some riders, so they may know we're
here, although they haven't seen the column."

   "And what, exactly, are we going to do about Daraja?" The speaker stood.
He had the closest to full plate armor that James had yet seen, although
there were still gaps around his elbows and knees.  His long hair and bushy
mustache were brown.  Putaski frowned at him.

   "We're going to ask nicely for them to let us pass through."

   "You know that won't happen," a voice to James' right said.  Another
from his left responded.

   "We don't know that."

   "Yes we do," the standing man said.  "No people in their right minds
would let an army pass through their gates.  Would we have let a caravan
such as our pass through Nowy Kiev?  No.  We would not.  We would shut the
gate, tell them to go find passage elsewhere."

   "We have never," an older, clean-shaven man mused, "given the Watu any
cause for distrust.  We have traded fairly.  Our border farms have not
infringed on their land."

   "And what was our conflict with the Elves before now?  No.  It's
different.  For all we know, they're against us, and we should be ready."

   "To do what?" Lech scoffed.

   "To take the city ourselves."



   ****



   James did not know what surprised him more, the suggestion, or that more
did not speak loudly in outrage.  He looked at the man.  He was serious. 
They were a mass of homeless refugees, and he talked of storming some
civilian town because, what, it sat on a bridge they needed?  Was that how
military people were?

   Was he now King of an evil people?

   "You DO know how stupid that sounds," Lech said, standing once again. 
He was only three seats away from the man, the two glaring at each other
over the heads of two men who looked like they wanted to be somewhere else.
"We're in no shape to assault anyone."

   "More of the outer garrisons are rejoining us every hour.  We'll be
stronger by the time we reach the river than we were when the elves
assaulted the city.  One charge, we can take and hold the bridge."

   "And insure every town and hamlet is against us from here to the sea! 
God in Heaven, what good does that do us?"

   "And you would have us do, what?  Camp before the walls, begging to be
let through, while the Elves march on our rear?  Is that it?  The Watu
would not believe we were peaceful arranged like a siege before them
anyway, so why not just attack?  We have no other option!"

   "Can we not bridge it ourselves?"

   The words came from James before he even realized he even had the
thought.  The camp went silent.  So much, he thought, for the idea of just
keeping quiet and letting the professionals do their thing.  The winged
officer next to him was regarding James with an unreadable expression.  The
standing warmonger made a short, not quite mocking, bow.

   "Does Your Grace have a suggestion?"

   Oh, so many ways he wanted to answer that.  James took a moment to
gather his thoughts, remaining seated.  He leaned forward, hands together
in his lap.

   "If Your Grace I am, then yes, although I will defer to those with more
knowledge regarding how useful it is." He nodded to the man beside him. 
Always pick the strongest man for your ally, even if it's against his will.
"I don't know the river, or how wide it is, but can't we travel up or down
stream to a narrow spot and put our own bridge across?  I assume we have
more than enough skilled people here to do it."

   More silence.

   James didn't know what to say without being insulting.  He didn't know
what these people didn't know.  Maybe the idea had already been discussed
and discarded.  Maybe the river was a mile wide.  Maybe he was just making
himself look like an ignorant fool...

   "Can we put a pontoon bridge across the Orlan?" James couldn't identify
the speaker.  Another man leaned forward, nodding.

   "Not by the town, no.  Not enough trees.  I wouldn't want to work within
arrow shot of the walls regardless.  Down south..." He looked over at the
man who had been scouting ahead.  "The forest comes right up to the bank a
mile or two south, right?"

   The soldier stood, taking a folded sheet of paper out of some pocket
before sitting back down.  He angled it so the firelight fell on the white
sheet.  Those around him craned their necks to look.

   "Yes.  The river is a bit wider there, but...  the current should also
be slower."

   "How long?" Captain Putaski asked.  The man shrugged.

   "I'm not an Engineer.  Tadeusz?" He handed the paper to his left, where
it was passed down to another man.  The Engineer looked at the map,
considering.

   "A few days, I think.  If we push a party ahead, we can start
construction immediately.  It might not be ready when the head of the
column gets there, but maybe we can use that time to reorganize."

   "I want fortifications on both banks," Putaski told him.  "I don't want
anyone from Daraja getting ideas of disrupting our little plan, and we're
going to be vulnerable." The man nodded.

   "We'll have to canvass the civilians for workers.  There's been little
need for this kind of work, and my men are unpracticed."

   "Luckily," the Captain said, turning to James and bowing, "thanks to His
Grace we've already started a census.  Secure the site, and we'll start
sending your labor out as soon as we can."

   The Engineer stood, as did the man to his right.

   "My men are on both sides of the column, and it will take some time to
get them together.  I'd best leave now." He turned to to James.  "Your
Grace."

   James bowed his head in return.  He hadn't fucked up after all.



   ****



   "Your Grace, a moment, please."

   James finished standing, turning to the officer beside him.  The meeting
was over, the camp now alive with conversation as the officers made their
way to their horses in twos and threes.  James was tired.  Tired enough to,
by now, just accept that he was a King.  He'd fill his mind with doubt
again after a good nights sleep.  Captain Putaski stood beside him.

   "Your Grace, may I introduce Commander Andrzej Kosciuszko, leader of our
Winged Hussars."

   "Your Grace." The Commander bowed.  James got a good look at those
wings. There weren't as many feathers as he had first thought, a good sized
gap between each one.  Some also seemed to be missing, mostly in the parts
that were burned and scorched.  James nodded his head back.

   "Commander."

   "Andrzej," Putaski said, hand rising to run through his hair, "I was
wondering if you could spare a squad to provide an escort for His Grace. 
My men will stand guard, naturally, but while we're moving I'd feel better
with some of your men at his side."

   "I was just about to offer that," he said.  "I thought my son would make
a proper escort for His Grace."

   "That would be perfect.  Thank you.  Now, if Your Grace would excuse
us..." The Captain bowed, before taking the arm of the calvary man and
leading him off.  James watched them for a moment, the two now deep in
conversation.

   What now?

   Damned if he knew.  James looked around him.  At the sea of strangers. A
sea without one familiar...

   His eyes landed on a the face of the young girl.  She stood in the
shadows, away from the others.  The babe was in her arms, silent, sleeping.
The young boy was at her side, but James only had eyes for her.  Seeing his
gaze, her eyes dropped a moment, before slowly rising again.

   Ewa.  Her name was Ewa...

   Chapter 3



   James opened his eyes with a start.

   A face was leaning over him.  A boy's face.  One he knew.  James did not
know many boys, certainly none that would be in his dorm room...

   "I'm sorry, Your Grace.  They say you have to get up."

   Right.  He wasn't in his dorm room.

   James put his hands to his eyes.  He could feel dried crud on them, as
sometimes happened.  Keeping his eyes closed, he brushed the unwanted
secretion out of his lashes.  Maybe, when he opened his eyes again, he'd be
home.  He gave it a shot

   Nope.  That was still the boy Felek standing there.

   James sat up, the thick blanket falling from his bare chest.  He was on
a cot in a tent, faint light coming through the canvas.  It was still
early, almost pre-dawn.  He blinked.

   "What is it?" he asked.  A good, general purpose question.  He
remembered going to bed, the fact a couple people had been kicked out of
the tent commandeered for his use weighing on his mind.  They had been well
dressed, though, so the guilt about them having to join the other tentless
refugees hadn't been that severe.  He did know the kid had not been there
when he closed his eyes.

   "The camp is rising, Your Grace.  Captain Putaski told me to help you
get ready."

   "Ready for what?" James yawned.  He rotated both shoulders, the joints
making a cracking sound.

   "We're breaking camp within an hour, Your Grace.  I'm to help you wash
and dress, make sure you get your breakfast."

   "You are?" James looked at the kid.  He was standing a foot away from
the bed, almost at attention.  His brown hair was brushed, and even in the
dark James could tell he had washed up.  Felek bowed his head.

   "Yes, Your Grace.  They said they needed someone to be your servant, and
I volunteered.  I'll do anything you ask."

   His own...  what?  Slave?  Steward?  Manservant?  Boyservant, at least.
James closed his eyes.  He was finding it too easy to get used to all these
people bowing to him, even after only one day.  Now he had his very own
servant.  Would a harem be next?

   The image of Ewa, shyly smiling in the firelight, came to his mind.

   Tossing the blanket aside, he slid his legs off the cot, sitting there
in his blue boxers.  Felek ran five feet to the side of the tent, grabbing
a small table that had not been there the night before and carrying it
over. It was made of four wooden legs, two crossing each other on either
side so the table could fold up for easy storage.  The fabric top drooped
under the weight of a white porcelain basin filled with water.  Walking
slowly so as not to spill a drop, Felek carefully set it before James. 
Soap and a towel sat on either side.

   "Wash up, Your Grace, then I'll comb your hair.  Once you're dressed I'm
to let them know so they can bring breakfast."

   "Food will be good." Grabbing the small cloth next to the soap, he got
to work on his morning shower.



   ****



   It wasn't Felek, but a girl about his age who brought in the wooden tray
with breakfast.  Her eyes were wide in nervous apprehension as she slowly
carried her burden.  She waited while Felek removed the wash basin and its
assorted accessories from the small table, eyes looking everywhere except
the now dressed James sitting on the cot.  They had found for him local
clothing, of a surprisingly good fit.  He had wondered at this, before
noticing his otherworldly clothes were gone.  The table cleared, the girl
slowly and carefully placed the tray on it.  She bowed her head low.

   "Your breakfast, Your Grace." It was a soft whisper, barely audible. 
She was blond, hair pulled back into a long braid similar to the one Ewa
had worn.  It must be the "in" style.  The braid fell over her shoulder,
hanging down before her.  James nodded back.

   "Thank you, My Lady." Her eyes jerked up, startled.  They were nice
eyes, dark blue.  Looking down at his metal plate, James saw eggs, sausage,
and three thick slices of bread with thick clumps of butter spread over
them.  He grabbed one, chomping in.  It wasn't fresh baked, he knew, but it
was probably the best they could offer.  A glass of wine sat before him. 
Wine with breakfast.  Well, he could pretend it was grape juice.

   The two children stood watching him.  He swallowed.

   "Have you two eaten?"

   The girl shook her head, almost violently.  Whatever they had told her,
she was terrified of doing something wrong in the King's eyes.  Felek put a
hand on her shoulder, as if to calm her.

   "They said we could eat after you were done.  We're getting good food,
as are our families."

   "Good," James said.  He picked up the metal knife and fork and cut a
slice of sausage.  "You two can relax until I'm done.  I won't be long."



   ****



   James walked from the tent into a mist filled twilight.  He could hear
more than see the wagons being prepared, the people moving around, packing,
readying themselves for another day on the road.  Two guards stood on
either side of the doorway.  As James moved forward, they fell in a few
steps behind him.  He'd have to get used to this, he thought.  Almost as
soon as they were away from the tent, men ran forward into it, beginning
the process of packing.  Looking back a few moments later, he saw the
fabric fall down, the supports already being removed.

   "Given it's the first day I've been here," he said, to himself as much
as to his guards, "this all seems well rehearsed."

   "Dealing with Nobility is our job, Your Grace."

   Neither of the guards were the one from the night before.  Made sense.
Stopping, he looked around the camp.

   "So, what now?"

   "You're to help lead the morning prayer."

   He blinked.

   What had he gotten himself into...



   ****



   "Oh, Lord, bless us this day, as we start on the path you have chosen
for us.  Help us help our brothers and sisters, that none may stumble on
the road before us.  In the Name of the Father, the Mother, and the Son."

   "Amen."

   James opened his eyes again.  He sat on a chair behind the priest, his
part in the morning benediction apparently to just look good and inspire.
That was good.  It was also good that his own faith was weak enough that he
could convert to anything that wasn't that strange.  This seemed to be a
version of Christianity that gave Mary a bit more importance, but then
maybe all Catholics did that.  He for sure hadn't paid much attention to
them.  Religion had, so he understood, been beaten out of both his parents
in misguided attempts to beat it into them.

   The priest turned to him, his face serious.  The holy man was dressed in
a brown robe, falling down to his feet, a thick coarse rope tied as a belt
around his waist.  His head was bald, shaved, including his eyebrows.  The
look was...  interesting.

   "Thank you, Your Grace, for your presence at our Mass.  I know this must
all be strange for you."

   "Enough is familiar that things are not too bad, Father..."

   "Brother Ofim, Your Grace."

   "Thank you."

   The people were going back to their tasks.  Much of the mist had burned
off, the wagons on the other side of the road now visible as the defensive
ring was broken up.  Horses and oxen were being hitched to wagons.  On the
road, a unit of horsemen rode by, moving quickly towards the head of the
column.  They lacked the wings of the Hussars, thus he assumed they were
the normal cavalry, or scouts.

   "Your Grace."

   He turned.  From the forest side, six winged riders came towards him. 
Their armor was polished, feathers on their wings alternating white and
red. Very Polish.  With them, a riderless horse.  They came to a stop
before him.  Their leader was young, young enough to be the son of the
Commander.  Which made sense, as he supposedly was.

   "Greetings, Your Grace.  I am Lieutenant Piotr Kosciuszko.  We will be
your escort on the road."

   James finally had to laugh.  The young man frowned.  James quickly shook
his head, smiling.

   "I'm sorry, Lieutenant.  It's not you.  All the long names have finally
broken me, as I'm just not used to them.  I'm going to be lucky if I can
recall more than a half dozen by the end of the day.  All of you only have
to remember 'Your Grace', which has to be quite a bit easier."

   The soldier smiled.

   "You may call me Piotr, if it helps, Your Grace."

   "It does.  Although," James added, eyeing the horse, "I'm not sure how
much it will help in this.  I have not been on a horse in...  well,
awhile."

   He had been on a horse once, at summer camp.  The times he had been on
some poor pony walking in a circle at a summer fair didn't count.  Knowing
he could sit on the beast was a confidence builder, though.  Otherwise,
he'd be scared shitless.

   Piotr motioned to two nearby men.

   "Would you like some assistance, Your Grace?"

   He considered.  On the one hand, his ego, and his place at the top of
this society.  On the other, his safety.

   Oh, what the hell.  If he broke his neck, most of his problems would be
solved.

   "Let me try it once alone." One of the riders dismounted, grabbing the
reins of the royal horse and leading it over to James.  He looked at it. 
Saddle, stirrups, the thingy you grabbed so you didn't fall off...  Turning
to face the eyes he knew were on him, he raised his voice.

   "I am about to ride a horse for the first time in ten years.  WHEN I
fall off onto my ass, you have my royal permission to laugh."

   That brought laughter from all around him.  Turning back, he saw his
guards and the soldiers grinning.  He nodded.

   "Let's do this."

   One of his guards knelt down, cupping his hands together as a step. 
Very brave of him.  James took a deep breath.  He reached up, grabbed the
saddle, placed his foot on the offered hands...

   And found himself safely mounted on the light brown stallion.

   The people cheered.  He raised his arm, waving.  The horse moved under
him, James quickly grabbing for whatever he could to hold on.  Cheers and
laughter mixed.  Piotr confidently moved his mount beside James, face one
of respectful amusement.

   "Very good, Your Grace."

   "My Grace is lucky." James took a firm grip of the reins.  "To say I
don't know what I'm doing up here is an understatement."

   "Just let your mount do what it wants, which will be to stay with us. 
We'll make sure you come to no harm."

   "Good.  I like no harm."



   ****



   At no real signal that he could see, wagons began to move from the grass
onto the dirt road.  It probably, James suspected, had started at the head,
the first wagons just making their way when they were ready.  Each group
behind them saw the one ahead move out, quickly starting their own journey
before those behind caught up and forced them to wait for some opening in
the endless caravan.  No traffic signals, or traffic cops, here.  Or, maybe
there were.  Soldiers were everywhere, mounted or on foot.  With the sun
now fully over the horizon, he could see the colorful units off beside the
far tree lines.  Their protectors, at least a small part of them.  They,
too, were moving, shadowing the civilians.  Shielding them from unknown,
and known, dangers.

   James rode in the middle of his escort, three winged riders before him
and two behind.  Piotr rode at his side, his personal bodyguard.  The road
was wide enough for two wagons to pass, a dirt and gravel track with deep
ruts left from the last time it had turned to mud.  The wagons kept to the
left, single file, as they made their way east towards the rising sun. 
This did not keep the other half free: the many who walked filled this
space, trudging to keep pace with the wagons.  It was the wagons which
dictated their speed, not human endurance.  When the draft animals needed
rest, the column with unspoken command rested.  To lose a draft animal was
to lose a wagon's worth of supplies.

   James looked around him.  The people trudged on with silent
determination.  Already, he believed, this was the third day for many. 
They now knew how long it would be until each rest, how long aching muscles
had to labor until the next camp.  Those who were fit conserved their
strength.  Those who were weak, prayed.

   He tried to understand.  That is what a leader did, wasn't it?  He
observed his people, learned about them, tried to lead them well.  Weren't
there always stories about a King or such dressing as a commoner, going out
and talking to the people in disguise?  Learning much more than he could
stuck in the castle?  Well, there was no castle.  He was surrounded by his
people.  James had to focus...

   "So...  Your Grace.  Father says you're not from this world."

   He looked at the young soldier beside him, mentally lowering the man's
age again.  If Piotr was even his age, that would be surprising.

   "You don't seem to consider the idea surprising."

   Piotr shrugged, an interesting sight when armor is involved.

   "Well, I mean, the old stories have us coming to this land, from the
mystical land of Poland.  So, we know that there are other worlds.  Are you
from Poland?  If you're the heir, I assume so."

   Captain Putaski had not asked such questions.  Had not really asked
about it.  Almost, he thought, as if questions might prove he wasn't the
King, and that would be really inconvenient right now.  James shook his
head.

   "I'm not from Poland.  There is a Poland, in our world, and my ancestors
came from there."

   Piotr nodded.

   "I've read some of the books, which I really shouldn't have.  Some are
from before, and mention wars with other nations, other kingdoms.  Jesus,
even, was said to have lived and died far from Poland, which always made me
wonder why God would send his Son so far from us, but maybe he knew the
Poles wouldn't kill him so he had to do things elsewhere.  The priests
never bother explaining that.  The best they come up with is, 'That's where
God found his wife Mary, so that's where Jesus was born'.  Why he couldn't
find some good Polish girl to marry, I don't know."

   "Because," one of the other soldiers put in, "there were no virgins left
of age."

   The riders laughed, as did some of the men around them.  The women and
girls, James noticed, didn't.



   ****



   By the first rest, James had a sore bum.

   He dismounted awkwardly, one of his guards coming up quickly to keep him
steady.  All thoughts of caring about appearance were gone.  All he wanted
was a drink, even if it was warm, and to lay on non-moving grass.  With
practiced ease, as he left the mounted royal guard his two guards from the
morning appeared from nowhere to shadow him.  Felek, too, appeared, moving
quickly carrying a basket and a pouch with some liquid gurgling inside. 
Claiming a patch of grass about ten feet from the road, James sat down.  He
accepted the basket, which contained cheese and a fruit he had never seen
before.  The drink was beer.  He had been too young to drink, legally, just
days before, and now he was having beer forced on him.  Every college kid's
dream?  Maybe.

   Trailing after Felek, the young girl from the morning came with a bucket
of water.  His guards produced wooden cups from somewhere on their person,
dipping them in.  James cocked his head at her.

   "I didn't catch your name this morning."

   "Ruta," she said, blushing.  He smiled at her.

   "Ruta.  A nice name." She blushed further.  Felek took the bucket from
her, dipping a cup in to hand to her.  She drank quickly as the boy turned
to James.

   "Her father is a soldier, somewhere up front.  Her mother is helping Ewa
with the babe."

   "Where is Ewa?" James had been trying to find an excuse to try and find
the girl.  He had yet to see her that morning.  Felek smiled.

   "She got to ride for the first part of the trip, as did we.  We have to
walk now, though."

   James nodded, taking a bite of cheese.  It was weird.  Good, but weird.
He usually stuck with the basics, food wise.  Cheddar was his go to cheese,
at least for just eating plain.  Expanding his palate was definitely going
to be necessary.

   "How are she and the baby doing?" James hoped he sounded casual in
asking that.  The boy grinned, showing any attempt and disguising his
interest had failed utterly.

   "Ewa's doing good.  Because I'm doing this, she and the baby were up
front this morning to get food.  She's happy!" Looking around, as if
someone might be eavesdropping, Felek dropped his voice.  "She kept talking
about you ALL night."

   James saw his two guards attempting to suppress smiles.  He couldn't
blame them.  James caught their eye.

   "I haven't asked your names yet."

   "Nowak, Your Grace."

   "Adamczyk, Your Grace."

   "Well, gentlemen, I trust there is some sort of tradition about royal
guards keeping quiet about anything they hear while on duty.  I would hate
for my first real command to be to have both of you flogged, or whatever
the military does here in these cases."

   Their smiles vanished.

   "It is forbidden for us to reveal anything said by His Grace or anyone
you are with, under penalty of death."

   Death was a little bit more severe than he would have liked, but he
wasn't surprised.  Kings would want to prevent their household from being a
den of spies.  He nodded.

   "I am new, and will be more casual than you are used to.  I will rely on
those of you around me to know the boundaries and remind me of them, so
neither of us...  accidentally cross them."

   "Yes, Your Grace."

   "Good." James looked over at the kids.  They were scared shitless.

   It wasn't easy, being King.



   ****



   It was easier to get girls, though.

   James walked, leading his horse, resting the beast, as a smiling but
very nervous Ewa walked beside him.  She wore a dark green dress, very
plain but in good shape, with a golden ribbon wrapped around her waist as a
belt.  Her eyes were brown, often looking away from the presumed king
shyly, but when she did focus on him James felt a definite skip in his
heart.  The baby, as yet unnamed, was asleep on her back.

   "It's the names," he told her, "that I'm having the most trouble with.
Back home, there are jokes about how long and hard to say Polish names are,
and here I am surrounded by them.  My family supposedly even changed their
name when they came over, so they'd fit in better."

   "What's hard about them?" Ewa sounded genuinely surprised.  He laughed.

   "Lots of extra z's and k's, sounds we don't use much.  If you're used to
it, it's not a problem.  You'd probably find Chinese names hard to deal
with the same way."

   "Chinese..."

   "Another people from my world.  Don't worry about it."

   She nodded, letting it drop.  He liked that about her.  Whether it was
how she was, or just the fact of who he was, she didn't talk endlessly. 
She wasn't withdrawn, but neither was she a chatter box.  Ewa was nicely in
the middle.

   A rider was coming down the road towards them, from the front of the
column.  The people moved to the left, giving him room on the outer edge of
the road.  James and his companions did the same.  This pushed him closer
to Ewa, who said nothing as his shirt covered arm touched hers.  He
wondered if that could be considered First Base here.  The rider slowed as
he approached, eyes going to the walking Piotr.

   "Sir, I'm looking for His Grace?"

   "I'm My Grace," James said, wondering how many protocols he was
breaking. The man's eyes shot to him, reining in his mount.

   "Your Grace." Dismounting, he grabbed a satchel.  "I have census lists
from most of the leading travelers.  We will have the rest by evening."

   "I'll take it for now," Piotr said, motioning to the messenger.  "His
Grace as yet is lacking certain functionaries."

   The man was staring at James.  Should he say something?  What?  Try and
inspire him?  Tell him to go away?  Suddenly, as soon as his satchel had
been taken from him, the messenger knelt, head bowed.

   "Your Grace, I thank our Lord Jesus that you are here with us, and that
I have served you in even this small way.  There was rumor that an heir was
found, but..."

   "You should be on your way." Piotr's voice was hard.  The man was on his
feet and mounted in an instant.  His eyes never left James.

   "I will tell everyone, Your Grace.  Tell everyone we again have a King!"
Whirling his mount, the man galloped off back where he came from.

   "And his true story will be more outlandish than rumor before it reaches
the third telling." Piotr shook his head.  "That one I never liked."

   "So," Ewa said, "by the fifth telling nobody will believe Your Grace
exists."

   "Ha!" James couldn't help the bark of laughter.  Her blush, which had
faded in the past mile, returned full force.  The guards, too, chuckled. 
Piotr looked back down the road behind them.

   "We'd best keep moving, Your Grace.  We do not want..."

   A horn blew from the forest on their right.

   "Damn!" Piotr swung to James, eyes hard.  "Please mount up, Your Grace.
Just in case." The other guards were already back on their mounts.  To the
south, soldiers were rushing into the forest.

   "What is it?" James asked.  His hand, he realized, was holding Ewa's. 
Piotr ignored that, eyes going back towards the forest.

   "Our pickets found something they didn't like."

   Chapter 4

   Shanna was not having a good birthday.

   The Freshman came to a stop next to the rock, gazing down at the
unfamiliar landmark.  At least, she hoped it was unfamiliar.  If she had
passed it in the dark the previous night, that meant she was going in
circles.  Going in circles when lost was bad.  Going anywhere when lost was
bad.  You were supposed to stay put.  Let others come to you.

   What were you supposed to do when the entire world vanished on you?

   Letting out a deep sigh, which did nothing practical, but did make her
feel a bit better, she plopped her butt on the rock.  Her feet ached.  Her
legs ached.  She was thirsty.  Hungry.  Tired.  The patch of ground she had
gotten a few hours sleep on had NOT been comfortable.  Everything about
that moment was horrible.

   She was missing that morning's math class, though.  That was something.

   Shanna's eyes again went to the trees and plants around her.  They
weren't normal.  She hadn't realized that, in the dark.  A pine tree was a
pine tree.  In the light, though, with the growing knowledge that things
were horribly wrong, she could see and accept that this didn't seem to be
Earth.  Or it was a very strange part of Earth.  That weed sticking up by
her foot, for example.  All the leaves were on one side of the stalk,
sticking straight out, with two small flowers splitting out from the top.
And that tree, over among the pines, had a green trunk.  Almost like it
was, in fact, a very thick stalk.  The thick green daughter trunks winding
around it with large berries on them were just icing on the cake.  Or
berries on the ice cream.

   Ice cream...  God, she was hungry.  Not hungry enough to try and eat any
of that stuff, not yet.

   She knew this wasn't a dream.  Whatever it was, this was real.  Partly
it was the pain that told her this.  Shanna didn't hurt in dreams.  Mostly,
though, it was the scary White guys who had attacked her.

   Shanna didn't dream of White people.

   The first time she had actually realized this, late in high school, she
had spent a good week wondering if she was some kind of racist.  After all,
she was surrounded by Whites.  Most of her friends had light skin.  You'd
think they'd sneak into her dreams just by osmosis.  But, no.  Every person
she had ever dreamed of, that she could remember, was as brown as she was.
Why?

   The answer she had finally come up with, which, for now, satisfied her,
was that she was just seeing extensions of herself, of her family.  Home
and comfort, to her inner self, was a sea of soft brown skin, holding her
close.  A nightmare would be those people betraying or mistreating her.

   Or she was a horrible secret racist.  Psych 101 would probably sort it
out, if she ever made it to her next class.

   Shanna put her hand to her forehead, fingers pushing her glasses back up
before moving to rub her now throbbing head.  Maybe she should start
yelling.  Screaming.  Even if the bad guys came, the horrible, frightening
men in their red and silver armor and sharp swords, maybe they wouldn't
kill her.  They hadn't killed her in the hall.  They'd gone into that guy's
room.  God, she had been so scared.  She could still feel the man's hand
covering her mouth and nose, the tip of his sword touching her throat.  He
could have killed her.  Raped her.  The look one of them had given her...

   Her eyes closed, body shuddering.  Shanna just wanted to go home.  Not
back to school, to her dorm, but home.  Unconsciously, she clicked the
heels of her sneakers together.  There's no place like home...



   ****



   The horn blast startled Shanna into wakefulness, body on its feet
seemingly instantly.  She had some defensive training, how to fight off a
mugger stuff mostly, and she found herself in one of the ready stances
she'd been shown.  Her hands were also in front of her as if she was
holding a broadsword.  That was stupid.  She wished she HAD a broadsword,
naturally.  A real one, or even the dull ones she'd practiced with the
times she'd hung out with those re-enactors.  If only so she didn't feel so
helpless.

   Standing there, body tense, she heard the sounds of fighting.  Of metal
on metal.  Of men yelling, groaning.  It was close.  Almost next to her. 
Should she run?  She should run.  Away.  Now.

   A man stumbled out of the trees not a yard away from her.  It was one of
the horrible men, in red and steel.  Chain mail, though, not the
breastplate of her attackers.  His helmet was like half a football, a metal
cone with something coming down to cover his nose.  On either side of that,
two eyes that were...  wide, yet...  dead.  His sword dropped from his
fingers, tip touching the ground, hilt falling over towards Shanna.  The
stranger's knees buckled, his entire body leaning away from her even as the
sword hit the grass near her feet.

   There was a yell.  From the trees burst a creature, sword in hand. 
Without thinking, Shanna reached down for the sword before her, jumping
backwards the instant her hand grasped the hilt.  The newcomer swung its
sword at the falling man, stopping the motion in surprise as it became
clear a second killing blow was not needed.  Shanna raised her new weapon
before her.  The creature saw the movement.  Their eyes met.

   It had green skin.  That was the first thing she saw, the only thing she
saw until she gave herself a mental shake.  It was human.  Or humanoid. 
Slender.  Like a dancer.  A dancer clad in thick leather on its upper body,
a leather kilt hanging down to its knees.  It was close to her height of
five and a half feet, ears long enough to perhaps add a half inch to that
as their pointed tips reached up above its shaggy black hair.  Its eyes
were perfectly round, black with pure white pupils.

   Black eyes.  Did that mean a black soul?

   It leapt at her.

   Shanna's weapons training, such as it was, came from two places.  One
was those re-enactors slash live action role players she had spent some
time with while she was dating Frank, and for a while even after that. 
Swinging that heavy broadsword had been fun, at times more so than dealing
with Frank's smaller personal sword.  Because of such experiences, she held
the sword she had with two hands, despite it obviously being meant for one.
It just felt right.  And light, compared to what she was used to.  As the
black souled creature came at her, its long sword slicing down, she swung
her own up to meet it.  Steel clanged on steel, her teeth clenching as her
arms trembled with the impact.

   The second source of her training was a pair of YouTube videos of some
guys fighting with light sabers.

   She had watched those two fight over and over.  One reason, of course,
what that the guy with the glasses was damned cute.  He was gay, yes, as
she'd found out tracking him down to this movie podcast he did, but she
could change that.  Shanna had the half-written fanfic to prove it.  The
other reason she loved those fights was the style.  Not so much the actual
light saber stuff, but what they did apart from that.  The two guys,
whenever there was an opening, would punch and kick each other.  The idea
wasn't to score style points, it was to beat the other guy however
possible. Punch them in the kidney, kick them in the knee, whatever.  Just
win.

   Before the green guy could react to her block of its attack, Shanna
kicked her foot out, catching him in the leg.  She jumped back.

   The look the thing gave her was one of surprise, those black eyes
seeming to get even wider.  Whether it was impressed or upset, she didn't
know.  What she DID know was that the arrow that suddenly appeared in its
neck, just above the top of its armor, made the thing's feelings on any
particular matter rather moot.  Two more of the creatures appeared from the
trees, three arrows almost as quickly embedding themselves in their green
bodies.

   Shanna turned.

   Humans were rushing towards her.  Human men with red coats and silver
armor, wooden bows and steel swords.

   She was tired.  She was scared.  Letting the sword fall from her numb
fingers, Shanna raised her hands.

   "I surrender."



   ****



   Shanna couldn't understand a damned thing they said.

   It was language.  She assumed that.  These soldiers weren't making up
words just to piss her off as they marched her through the woods.  It even
sounded somewhat familiar, as if she had heard at least something like it
in some movie or on TV.  Maybe Russian?  Was she in Russia?  That was
stupid.  Why would she be in Russia?  She didn't think they had green
skinned people there.

   They hadn't groped her too much, searching her.  The one guard pushed
her shirt up, hands going under her bra.  Another pair of hands shoving
down her sweatpants and panties, before letting her pull them back up.  She
had watched as the soldiers went to the dead man, showing compassion that
Shanna found reassuring.  She hadn't been sure they were capable of such
feelings.  It didn't do HER much good right then and there, but it gave her
hope for the future.

   "Idz szybciej!"

   The barked command came with a push in her back.  That, she now knew,
meant she had to go faster.

   "OK, OK.  Jesus."

   Her hands weren't tied, at least.  That was a blessing.  She wasn't
being led like some Civil War slave by the army of mustached white men. 
And they were all white.  Not a brown or yellow person among them. 
Wonderful.

   The thing that had attacked her had been...  green.  Actually green. 
And it had been human.  Hadn't it?  Did these people think she was human?
Or were they looking at her brown skin and wondering if she was kin to
those black-eyed things?

   God...  she wanted to go home...



   ****



   The wagon train stretched as far as the eye could see.

   Shanna hadn't expected this.  She didn't know what she had expected, but
not this.  Not an endless flow of gypsies or something.  That was her first
thought.  Gypsies.  There was something about the clothing, about some of
the wagons, that seemed to indicate that.  Gypsies didn't have soldiers,
though, at least not that she knew.  The red and white banners also seemed
to indicate something else.  Some almost looked like a flag she should
know, if she had paid attention to such things in school.  French?  No, not
French.  These people didn't look French.  No berets.

   The horses caught her attention more than the endless stream of people.
They were everywhere.  Pulling wagons, being ridden.  Sleek, beautiful
mounts, sturdy work horses, even some mules and ponies.  And lots of oxen.
Shanna had always loved horses.  She wasn't the kind to fill her room with
toys and posters of them, like some girls, but she still thought they were
the most incredible creatures on Earth.  Every summer she had spent as many
weeks as her parents could afford riding, taking care of them.  The camp
stable had held a dozen stallions and mares.  Here, before her, were
hundreds.  Thousands.

   "Ruszaj sie."

   Another push in her back.  This was getting tiring.

   A group of horses broke away from the road, coming towards them.  Shanna
had barely taken two shove-induced steps before her arm was grabbed,
stopping her.  She resisted telling them to make up their mind.  The men on
the three oncoming horses were obviously leaders of some kind.  The armor
was fancier.  They reined in a few feet before her captors.  The one in the
middle, a middle aged man whose black hair was a bit grey, leaned forward,
hands crossed over the pommel of his saddle.

   "Co my tu mamy?"

   Anger rose in Shanna.  She was no "Mammy"!

   "Who the fuck are you?"

   The man's eyes widened.  He sat back up, regarding her with an
expression she could not interpret.  Turning, he looked back at the stream
of people behind him.

   Shanna followed his gaze.  There, riding past, were people with wings.

   Wings.  On people.  They had to be fake.  Didn't they?  Was the green
skin also fake?  Maybe these were, in fact, armored angels.  Maybe this was
heaven.  Shanna leaned forward, getting a better view.  She kept her feet
in place, not wanting to be grabbed again.  There were a half-dozen of the
winged riders, armor shining in the late morning sun.  They were
surrounding someone who had no wings.  Had no armor, in fact.

   She blinked.  Raising a hand, she adjusted her glasses.

   She knew him!

   "HEY!  YOU!" Shanna waved her arms in the air, jumping up and down.  She
was quickly grabbed by the guard behind her, arms forced painfully down
behind her back.  She leaned forward against his grip.  "OVER HERE!"

   "CISZA!" The guard next to her reached over, beefy hand covering her
mouth.  The thought that she could bite him, get one more shout out, passed
through her mind.  It would get her hit, most likely, but...

   The plain clothed man reined in, the winged riders following suit.  He
looked over.  Yes, she knew him, if not his name, and even from here she
could see recognition pass over his face.  His horse left the road, heading
towards her, the winged riders following.

   A sigh came from the mounted officer in front of her.  He turned, face
clearly annoyed.  He made a quick gesture.

   "Pusc ja."

   The hand left her mouth, her arms released as well.  Feeling suddenly
more secure, she took a few steps forward, going around the now unsure
soldiers.  She raised her right arm.

   "Hi!  God, am I glad to see you!"

   The fellow student brought his horse to a somewhat untrained stop, head
shaking in amazement.  Shanna didn't know him, really.  Wasn't even sure if
they had spoken.  He was tall, maybe six foot, with short curly black hair.
His face was a bit too plain for her taste, probably one reason they hadn't
spoken.  She liked her men beautiful.

   "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.  Shanna couldn't help but
laugh.

   "How the fuck should I know!  Don't tell me you know why you're here!"

   "I know they brought me!  Why would you..." She saw a realization come
to his face.  "You were in the hall, right?  Just outside my room?"

   "Yeah!"

   "You must have been caught up in the magic, then.  Or whatever it was.
I'm still trying to figure things out."

   Magic.  Well, why not?  It made as much sense as anything else.

   "Wasza Milosc, kim jest ta kobieta?"

   Shanna looked at the speaker, the winged rider next to him.  Her breath
caught in her throat.  He was...  beautiful...

   "She was in school with me." He frowned.  "OK, I can't remember your
name.  I'm James, by the way."

   "S-Shanna," she stammered, eyes ignoring James as she drank in the
winged warrior.  Blond hair fell down to his shoulders from under a steel
helmet.  His eyes were blue, piercing, his skin pale and perfect.

   Shanna suddenly realized something.  She swung her gaze back to James.

   "Wait, you can understand them?"

   He frowned.

   "Yes." His eyes widened.  "You can't?"

   "No," she said, shaking her head.  "It's just gibberish.  How can they
understand you?"

   "Got me.  I'm hearing and speaking English." He turned to the mounted
officer with the greying hair.  "She was outside my room when you came to
get me.  Somehow, you accidentally brought her over as well."

   "Przepraszam, Wasza Milosc.  Co proponujesz zrobic?"

   "Can you stay on a horse?" James asked her.  She nodded, eyes wide.

   "Yes!"

   "Get her a horse, then.  She'll stay with me."

   The man said something to the soldiers.  They left her, captors
abandoning her without a by your leave.  She hoped the ones who groped her
died horrible deaths, or at least broke a leg.  Looking back at James, she
frowned.

   "How come they're doing what you say?"

   "I'm the King."

   Shanna blinked.

   "Do they have an opening for Empress?"

   Chapter 5

   It had taken less than a day for James to wish he wasn't King.

   Much of that, for now, was the growing posse around him, the expanding
"staff" designated to help.  Seemingly at every rest of the column, Captain
Putaski sent over yet another functionary he'd dug up from somewhere, some
secretary or advisor from the palace to help King James deal with his
duties.  As there were no duties yet, all they did was add pressure to the
teen.  They were more adults he had to pretend he had authority over.

   They were also all male.  Couldn't he have an all female staff, or
something?

   There were more guards.  A dozen unmounted soldiers, armed with pikes,
marched before and after the Winged Hussars.  The nearest war wagon, which
he now knew was a Tabor, was emptied of civilians, archers taking their
place inside the mobile fortification.  All to protect him.  All in
reaction to the elves.  To the discovery of Shanna.

   Shanna was an interesting addition to all this.  He wasn't sure if she
helped prove the reality of the situation, or the opposite.  Yes, of all
the people his dream mind could have added to his story, she would not have
been on the list.  A point in favor of reality.  On the other, her story
made the entire world more magical.  James wasn't sure he liked that.

   At the moment, she was brooding as they rode.  Understandable.  James
went in and out of that state himself.  She looked out of place, dressed in
dark blue sweatpants and light blue t-shirt with a large '99' on it.  Her
dark brown skin had made him realize how un-diverse the people around him
were, in that regard.  James had just never thought about it.  Her largish
breasts, under that large shirt, bounced nicely in a way he tried very hard
not to visibly notice.  The idea of an all female mounted guard again
entered his thoughts.

   Ola walked from what James was calling the Royal Wagon, moving quickly
to catch up to the riders.  The man designated as his secretary was
definitely, in his mind, on the effeminate side.  Not quite comically so,
but close.  Not that there was anything wrong with that.

   "Your Grace." He managed to bow while walking, a nice trick.  James
nodded his head as the slender man matched his gait to that of the horses.
"I've gone over the lists from all the wagons, and have some totals.  Would
Your Grace like them?"

   "Yes." James resisted the urge to say that "his grace" would.  He knew
that joke would get annoying for all involved rather quickly, and so had to
be saved, spread out over time.  Ola bowed again.

   "Your Grace.  We have, at the moment, sixteen thousand, seven hundred
and forty four non-soldiers traveling in this column."

   "Damn!" That was more than James had expected.

   "They were divided, last night, into eighty three wagon circles. 
There's a crossroads ahead where farmers have been slowly joining up with
the column, so most likely there will be more tonight." He looked down at
his notes.  "Tabors make up less than a quarter of the wagons, although
they do seem to be spread out somewhat evenly.  Would you like to know the
exact breakdown?"

   "Make a master list, and have it ready for me when we make camp."

   "Yes, Your Grace.  Also, a runner just arrived.  The first elements of
the engineers have reached the Orlan, and are moving south to the crossing
point.  At this pace, the head of the column will reach there in another
four days."

   James looked around, eyes on the forest they now knew hid elven scouts.

   "Four days..."



   ****



   "I think," Ewa said, her voice soft, "your new friend likes Lieutenant
Kosciuszko."

   James chuckled, hand unashamedly holding hers as he walked beside her,
other hand lightly grasping his mount's reins.  Twelve hours on the road
(or, ten, or eight, whatever the actual figure was) already seemed like
forever, the teen beside him no longer a newly met stranger.  He let his
thumb caress her skin, enjoying the feel.  Her eyes left Shanna, falling
back on him.  James found himself smiling even more.

   "I will admit," he said, "I hadn't noticed."

   Her eyes widened, then dropped, lips curling up in a smile.  Her hand
squeezed his.

   "It does take a woman to notice these things."

   Unable to help it, James turned, looking back at the woman in question.
Shanna walked her black mare directly behind his, keeping pace easily.  As
he watched, she stumbled, foot catching on a hole in the road her horse
easily avoided.  Even as she recovered her footing, her eyes never left the
blond Piotr walking on the other side of James' mount.  The young man had
removed his helmet, hanging it on his saddle.  James was surprised neither
he nor the others removed those wings as well.  It couldn't be easy walking
with them.  Although, really, it probably wasn't much different than a
backpack.

   The girl obviously had a thing for Piotr.  She, too, was getting looks
from a number of the men.  They were not as...  well, James was going to
have to have a talk with the Captain.  Not just Shanna, but no woman in
this caravan was going to be subjected to what in his world would be called
rape.  He suspected soldiers assumed they had certain rights over women not
claimed, or at least not well protected.  He hoped he was wrong.

   "Shanna."

   Her head snapped around to him.  Anger and guilt warred on her face.

   "What?"

   "I'm still not seeing any strange plants like you saw.  Can you point
anything out?"

   Her look said everything.  She was walking on the inside of the double
row of horses, with a wagon on her left.  What could she possibly see from
there, especially at her height?  Still, she swung her gaze around.

   "No," she said, tolerantly, "nothing.  Maybe at camp there will be a
patch of flowers or something.  But I did see them."

   "Oh, I believe you." James trusted he sounded like it.  "I'd just like
to get an idea what's out there myself.  What's different about this
world."

   "Same here...  oh!  There!" She pointed, bare arm outstretched.  "Over
behind that patch of blue flowers!"

   James looked.  Yes.  That was...  different.  An oak tree, or its
double, rising in a vague cone shape like a pine tree.  From the top... 
what looked like a large flower.

   He did NOT want to see the bee that pollinated that.

   "Ah.  Yes.  That is different.  Freaky, even."

   "What?" Ewa asked.  Letting go of her hand, James pointed.

   "That tree with the flower.  All the other trees around it are like
those on our world, but that one isn't."

   Ewa looked at for a moment, then shrugged.

   "It doesn't look that strange."



   ****



   "Make camp!  Make camp!  Make camp!"

   The rider tore past James, riding back down the road towards the rear of
the column.  From ahead and behind, half-hearted cheers rose.  James felt
like cheering as well.  The insides of his thighs were sore.  Alternating
riding with walking every hour had helped, but his body was not used to
this.  He just knew tomorrow he'd be starting in pain.

   "Finally," Shanna said.  Her horse pulled up along side him as the
Hussars left the road.  "I like riding, but this is ridiculous."

   "It's less work than walking, but just as painful." He regarded her. 
"How are you holding up?"

   "Who knows.  This is all still stupid.  I'm kind of hoping a good meal
and some real sleep help me wrap my mind around all this."

   "Good luck with that." James saw Ewa and Felek jump out the back of the
royal wagon as it began to turn off the road.  Felek gave a wave.  James
returned it with a smile.  "I'm just going with the flow for now."

   "Well, yeah, you're King.  I want to get home."

   "You think I don't?" James looked at her.  Her dark eyes regarded him.

   "No.  I don't think you do."



   ****



   "Hear me, oh people of Poland, servants of God Almighty!  I bring you
glad tidings in this moment of despair!  God has sent us a King, heir to
King Mieszko, heir to the great throne of Nowy Kiev!  He has come to us
from afar, from the lands of our ancestors!  Yes, from Poland itself,
Mother Land to us all!  He travels with us, among his people, easing our
suffering!  It is he who has ordered a doubling of tonight's rations!  It
is he who has collected the names of your loved ones, so you may find
family and friends!  Blessed be the day, soon, when we may all stand before
him in our new home, bowing our heads to our rightful sovereign!

   "Until that day, His Grace asks that you stay with the wagons you are
currently with.  A river crossing is coming, and families may unite then if
God permits.

   "God bless King James the First!"



   ****



   James stood awkwardly in the last of the sunset as the people cheered.
Not just here on either side of the road where the crier sat on his horse,
but up and down the road where countless more copies of the proclamation
were read.  Around him, soldiers, women, and children began to chant, "King
James the First!" He bowed his head to them, turning to acknowledge the
entire camp, bringing another cheer.

   God, what was he doing here?

   As it died down, the people turning towards the cooking fires, James
walked over to his "throne".  The folding seat from the previous evening
had been replaced by an even higher one, with a cushioned seat.  It sat
before the entrance to his royal tent, a nearby fire providing more than
enough light and heat.  As he sat, Felek quickly moved to place a folding
table before him.  Little Ruta was there a moment later, placing a tray on
it.  She curtsied, smiling, no longer the nervous wreck she had been that
morning.

   "And what about me?"

   He looked over at Shanna, standing a few feet away.  The woman frowned
as James laughed.

   "No idea.  Duda!"

   "Yes, Your Grace?" The guard standing to his right looked down, bowing
in acknowledgment.

   "I need another chair and table for my friend Shanna.  She's to get the
same food I get, or reasonably close."

   "Yes, Your Grace." The guard motioned another man over, passing on the
request.  James looked back to Shanna.

   "I'm just letting them decide protocol for now.  Not pushing too much."

   "I don't blame you."

   He caught the unstated criticism.  Well deserved, most likely.  James
nodded.

   "I know, I know.  I'm a powerless figurehead letting people serve my
every whim as they flee certain death."

   "I didn't say anything."

   "And you're right to keep saying it." He looked down at his food. 
Sausage, again, this time freshly made it looked like, with large
mushrooms, shredded carrots, and...  pierogis.  He smiled.  Pierogis.  Now
he knew these were Poles.  James cut one of the pan fried dough pockets
open, looking at the cheese and potato filling.  Just like Grandma used to
make.

   He dug in.



   ****



   The lists of names were tacked to the wagons circling the camp.  James
stayed back as the two hundred or so people slowly moved from page to page,
searching for friends and loved ones in the torchlight.  He looked at
Shanna beside him.

   "That was my idea.  The extra food they're just doing in my name, now
that they have a better idea what our supplies look like, but if nothing
else I've done this."

   "It's a good one.  You don't have to justify it to me."

   Yet he felt he did.  Alone in a strange world, there was no one to
judge. No one to say they would not do things like that, knowing what he
knows.  Now he had such a person.  An outsider as smart as him, probably,
as knowledgeable.  He sighed.

   "What would you do, if you were me?"

   Her gaze met his, then moved to take in the ring of wagons.  She folded
her arms over her chest.

   "Probably this.  Not much to do while they're running.  Just help where
you can." She frowned.  "Do you know where they're running to, yet?"

   "They said something about the sea, but apart from that you got me.  I
don't even know if they know yet."

   "That's not good."

   "I know."

   Two figures left the crowd, coming towards him.  Ewa, holding the babe,
milk filled horn in his mouth, with Felek beside her.  Her younger brother
was holding her waist.  James closed his eyes.

   "Please let this be good news."

   "Optimist."

   "Someone has to be."

   As the siblings came close, James tried to guess what they'd found. 
Emotions were hard to read at night, and tears could be tears of joy.  As
they came before him, he reached out to touch the babe's head.  His eyes
met Ewa's.

   "Any luck?"

   "Our uncle's family, up ahead.  Our cousins.  Two aunts behind us, but
they never got along with Mother..." Her voice trailed off.  Felek looked
up, eyes wet.

   "I didn't see Mom and Dad.  I looked.  Read every name.  I didn't see
them."

   Shanna looked at James, obviously affected.

   "No luck?"

   "No."

   Reaching out, Shanna put a dark hand on the boy's head.  As if she had
hit a switch, the boy left his sister's side, pressing himself against the
comforting stranger, crying into her chest.  She wrapped her arms around
him, holding him close.

   "Shh...  it'll be OK.  It'll be OK..."

   Ewa took a step towards James.  He opened his arms, finding them filled
a moment later with the soft grieving girl, and the babe who did not yet
know its loss.



   ****



   "This, Your Grace, is a map of our world."

   James leaned forward, Felek moving his torch to keep the map out of
shadow.  He loved maps.  Always had.  Real maps, fake maps.  James had even
liked creating his own, detailing every dirt path through the woods of his
old neighborhood.  This one was not that detailed, showing not roads, but
rivers, cities.  It also didn't seem that large, certainly not the entire
world, although much larger in scope than most of his homemade ones.  He
saw Nowy Kiev, sitting as they had said on the junction of two rivers as
they merged into one.  Due east, another town was marked on another river,
Daraja.  This must be the one they were bypassing.  Both rivers flowed
south, towards a distant coast.  Cities were marked near the mouths of both
rivers.  Between, forests, hills.  Nothing that caught his eye as a
possible destination for his people.

   He frowned.  Assuming they crossed the Orlan, there was nothing
eastward, not on this map.  The Captain had mentioned the sea, so he let
his eyes mark the path southward.  They would travel slowly southward,
until...

   There, off the southern coast, not too close to any port city, was a
long, thin, island.  Some of it was mountainous, but much of the interior
was flat, potential farmland.  It was nothing compared to what had
surrounded their lost home, but...

   James pointed, looking up at Captain Putaski.

   "You're leading them here?"

   The Captain gave his King a long look, eventually slowly nodding.  He
leaned over, pointing to a part of the map.

   "If we break away from the river here, there is a good road which will
take us most of the way.  We will take the wagons cross country after that,
avoiding inhabited lands.  It will be slow, but we can do it."

   "And how do we make the crossing?"

   "We build ships." James looked up, eyebrow raised.  Captain Putaski
nodded.  "Yes, I know.  They assure me they can do it, though, build us
ships good enough to just get us across in good weather.  Once there, we'll
worry about building better vessels for trade and transport."

   "Hiring ships is out of the question?"

   The Captain stood up, face stern.

   "I would rather not have our survival depend on any but ourselves."



   ****



   James looked around the tent, taking in the changes.  An oil lamp hung
from the central pole, giving off a more...  familiar light than the
torches used outside.  He could understand conserving oil at this point,
feeling guilty at this waste for his benefit.  It was helpful, though.  The
cot set up for him was now larger, wider.  His six foot frame would no
longer just barely fit.  An open chest with clothing sat against the far
wall.  A desk, legs removable, sat near the bed, a small pile of papers on
it.  Ola sat on a chair before it, writing quickly.  He looked up as James
let the tent flap drop.

   "Your Grace.  I am almost done.  The various guild leaders sent
congratulations to you, and will appear personally tomorrow evening.  I
have written out your reply.  If you could read it and sign all ten copies,
I will have them sent out tonight."

   "It seems the work of the Kingdom does not start until the wagons
circle."

   "It is when messengers travel the easiest, and writing in a moving wagon
is MOST annoying." Ola went back to his work.  James walked over to his new
wardrobe, examining the selection.  Pants and tunics.  Nothing too fancy.
That was good.  He wasn't a fancy person.  If he could find someone who
could reverse engineer his old bluejeans, maybe he could start a fashion
revolution.

   "Done, Your Grace." Ola stood, stretching.  James walked over, glancing
at the freshly inked pages.  They were in English.  Or so he saw them.  He
wondered what it was going to be like, listening to Shanna try to learn
Polish, since he heard Polish words as English.  Possibly like that scene
in the second OZ book, where the Scarecrow and Pumpkinhead decide, despite
the fact they're conversing easily with each other, that they must be
speaking different languages because they're from different parts of Oz. 
It should be amusing.

   Grabbing the pen, he quickly signed the letters.  Ola took each page,
blowing to dry the ink.

   "Good.  That should be it for tonight, Your Grace.  I will try not to
wake you unless it absolutely can not wait until morning."

   James could not imagine a bookkeeping problem that could NOT be delayed
until daylight.  Straightening, he smiled to the bureaucrat.

   "Good.  Once we're all settled, I'll probably try to fill all the royal
staff positions with people I personally trust.  With luck, you'll be one
of them."

   The man's eyes widened, although whether at the implied threat or
potential reward James couldn't say.  Papers in hand, Ola bowed before
exiting the tent.

   James let his shoulders sag.  God, he was tired.

   Felek entered, a basin of water in his arms.

   "Time to get you ready for bed, Your Grace."

   That sounded like a good idea.



   ****



   James lay in the darkness, alone among the multitude.  He had expected
Felek to sleep in his tent, to be ready in case the King needed a drink of
water in the night or something.  A small low cot was set up next to the
chest for just such a thing.  The boy had left, though, after extinguishing
the lamp.  James would have to get his own water.  Or ask one of the guards
just outside.

   He felt like a little boy again, a slightly spoiled only child.  James
had been so happy to go off to college, to go live in the dorm even if it
was just a twenty minute drive from home.  To be on his own.  Independent.

   So much for that.

   The thick tent flap parted, a figure entering.  James half sat up, eyes
still not used to the darkness.  His light blanket slid away from his bare
chest.

   "Who is it?"

   "Me, Your Grace."

   Ewa.

   Her shadowy form stood in the center of the tent.  James heard the sound
of fabric.  Saw the outline of her figure become much more feminine. 
Slowly, he saw her come to stand before his cot, hands clutched together
before her.

   "I...  I am here to keep you company, Your Grace, if it pleases you."

   He wanted to ask if she was being forced.  If it was her idea, or
theirs. If she was doing this for the King, or for him.

   But...  in this new life, that could not matter.  Who he was could not
be separated from what he was.  Even to those he was closest to, he would
be King, before friend, or lover.  He would not, could not hurt her by
asking.  Sliding his legs over on to the floor, he stood before her, nude.

   "Everything about you pleases me."

   She stepped into him, palms on his chest, body raised on the tips of her
toes as her lips found his.  His own hands slid down her back, mind lost in
the moment.  Cot forgotten, they sank into the grassy floor.  Words
forgotten, they told each other all a man and woman can say.

   The world forgotten, they found peace.

   Chapter 6

   "I need to see the King."

   The two guards looked back at Shanna.  There was some confusion in their
eyes, the uncertainty of having someone talk to you in a strange language.
Understandable.  Shanna felt she had worn that expression all morning, ever
since waking to the sound of the entire camp slowly coming alive.  On the
guards, though, it was mixed with the certainty of only having to take
orders from people that weren't her.  They did not move from the entrance
to James' tent.

   Shanna tried to hold her temper.  Tried not to glare.  They were just
doing their job.  It was not their fault.

   Whose fault was it?

   This early in the morning, the next person to cross her path.

   She stepped back, the guards responding by moving their spears, or
pikes, whatever they were, from across the closed tent flap.  What were her
options?  One, she could just wait.  His royal highness would have to come
out sometime.  Two, she could yell for him.  It was just a tent, after all.
The guy WOULD hear her.  That would probably not be the most diplomatic
choice, breaking perhaps centuries of royal protocol.  With her luck,
waking the King was a hanging offense.

   The tent flap moved.  Option three: ambush the first person to come out.

   A thin, pale hand lifted the heavy fabric, revealing the dark-haired
girl Ewa.  Her eyes widened.  So did Shanna's.  That boy king moved fast.
The teen looked as disheveled as any woman would after an interesting
night, hair unbraided and loose down her back.  Ewa's expression, after a
moment's shock, hardened.  Shanna almost groaned in frustration.  She was
NOT going to compete with this girl for James.  Had zero interest in James.
Nor did she want to get on the girl's bad side.  She needed friends.  Or at
least non-enemies.  Letting out a sigh, Shanna smiled as best she could,
motioning with her head back inside the tent, pushing her glasses back up
as the movement slid them down her nose.  Ewa stood there, considering. 
After just long enough to make Shanna nervous, the girl looked behind her.

   "Wasza Milosc, twoja ciemnoskora towarzyszka jest tutaj."

   "Tell her to come in," a sleepy voice said.  "Have them bring us both
breakfast in here."

   "Wasza Milosc." Ewa turned back to Shanna, body language now friendlier,
and maybe a bit embarrassed.  Shanna nodded to her.

   "Thank you, Ewa."

   Ewa nodded her head a bit shyly.  Shanna had been caught coming out of a
guy's room by his sister, so understood.  She stepped aside as the teen
moved quickly past her.  She turned her attention back to the guards.

   "Excuse me."



   ****



   James was sitting on a cot, shirtless but at least in some pants.  A
folding table was set up in front of him, large porcelain bowl causing the
fabric top to sag.  The King looked up at her, a washcloth in his left
armpit.

   "Good morning."

   "Morning."

   She caught movement to her left.  Ewa's younger brother was going
through a wooden chest, picking out a blue shirt and holding it up to
examine it.  Shanna blinked.  The kid had been in here with the two of
them? Maybe he had woken the pair.  Oh, that had to be an embarrassing
scene for all involved!

   "Have a seat," James told her.  Looking, she saw him motion to a desk
chair nearby.  She walked over, moving the chair out and sitting on it
backwards, sweat pant clad legs straddling the back.  The kid's eyes almost
bugged out as he looked at her.  James laughed.  "That's not the most
lady-like thing, you know."

   "That's the problem.  They brought me dresses to wear."

   "So?"

   She frowned.

   "You can't ride in a dress."

   "If you hike it up high enough." James held a hand up, laughing.  "I
know.  Probably worse than going sidesaddle.  You are a girl, you know."

   "Not their kind."

   "And we're not going to be introducing women's lib just quite yet.  I
don't know how things are here, but just getting 'rape is bad' culturally
accepted may be the best we can do this generation."

   Shanna nodded.  Only a fool would not notice those looks, what they
meant.  She could defend herself, somewhat, but her self-defense teacher
had told them that if a strong man wanted to rape you badly enough, he
probably could unless you caught him off guard, or got lucky.  And if they
were trained soldiers?  Submitting would be most women's best option.

   "I can fight, somewhat.  Have some training.  Can you pass that along?"

   "I'm passing the word that you're part of my royal party, naturally. 
Off limits."

   "Thanks." A small wave of depression hit her.  She was going to have to
rely on him for everything.  Protection.  Communication.  Hell, her
clothing and food.  She did NOT like that.  What happened to the
independence of college?  Shanna did not like handouts.

   "Maybe," James continued, handing his towel to Felek and accepting a
clean shirt in return, "we can make you some kind of Amazon guard for me.
Have some of the soldiers beef up your training."

   She regarded him for a long moment as he slipped the tunic over his
head. Having carried the water basin away, Felek returned to stand next to
James, running a comb through his hair.  She shook her head.

   "No offense, but...  SERVING you is not a goal I have."

   "Anything you do here is going to do that, in some way.  But I get your
point."

   The tent flap opened.  Ruta entered, holding a silver tray, which she
moved to place before James.  Behind her a woman entered, middle-aged, with
a wooden tray with wooden plates.  Shanna saw her eyes become disapproving
as they fell on the chair straddling teen.  Marching over, the woman placed
the tray of food on the desk behind her.  Shanna smiled.

   "Thank you."

   The woman gave a slight smile, not a nice one.  Turning to James, she
bowed before leaving.  Ruta stayed, standing next to Felek.  Shanna had to
grin.  The two kids made a good couple.

   "Dig in," James said, picking up a silver fork.  "The kids can't eat
until we finish, and the camp will break up soon."

   "Gotcha." Standing, she sat back down facing the desk, and began to eat.



   ****



   The slap to her bottom came as Shanna was adjusting the stirrups on her
mount.  They had given her a different saddle than the day before, although
luckily the same horse.  She froze as she felt the large male hand hit her
left butt cheek, the sweat pants and panties offering little padding.  She
had expected this.  Shanna had watched movies, after all.  Even news
reports from places like Egypt of women groped and raped at "peace" rallies
kind of prepared her.  Yet the actual fact of it left her stunned.  Holding
back the response she wanted to give, she turned her head.

   Three soldiers had walked by her.  They were strong.  Well armed. 
Laughing.  Picking a fight with them would be stupid, King's protection or
no.  And, well, while she hadn't been "asking for it", Shanna knew full
well her ass looked damned good if she bent over in these pants.  Compared
to the other women, she was taunting these men.

   Shanna had a brief mental image of her brown skinned body nude on the
grass, surrounded by dozens of hunky male Polish soldiers.  She shook it
off.  That was one of those fantasies that should so STAY a fantasy.  The
line between orgy and gang rape was probably nonexistent.

   She looked around.  Many men were giving her glances.  Hard glances,
full of promises that they could give what she wanted, or at least what
they wanted her to want.  Her eyes went again to the mode of dress of the
other women packing the camp.  Would wearing a dress be so bad?

   "Dziewiecdziesiat dziewiec!"

   One of the Winged Hussars she had rode among the previous day was
shouting, seemingly at her.  That wasn't her name, though, and they should
know it.  It wasn't like it was hard to pronounce.  She turned back to her
horse.

   "Dziewiecdziesiat dziewiec!" Closer, this time.  She turned, back to her
mount.  Three of them stood before her.  Strong.  Handsome.  Condescending.
Condescending armored angels, red and white feathered wings rising above
their heads.

   Oh, she so wanted to smack those smirks off their faces.

   "My name," she said, sweetly, "is Shanna.  Are you smart enough to
remember that?"

   The one in the middle, with a bushy black mustache, pointed at her
chest, grinning.

   "Dziewiecdziesiat dziewiec."

   Dziewiec...  oh.  Maybe that meant ninety-nine, the number on her shirt.
OK, that was funny.  Not so funny was the man's still outstretched hand. 
One step forward, and he'd be copping a feel.  She was NOT going to allow
that.  Could she grab his hand, bend back a finger?  No.  His free arm
would probably club her in the head.  Hand to hand combat was not an
option.

   Reaching behind her, Shanna slipped a knife from a sheath on her saddle.

   They saw the movement.  The arm dropped.  Their expressions became... 
harder.  Less gropey, more rapey, although still somewhat playful.  It
would be a playful rape.  Smiling, she brought the knife up in front of
her, a finger lightly testing its edge.

   "I really, really hope you all don't think this is foreplay." Shanna
considered throwing the knife between the one man's boots, but that would
leave her without a knife.  It would be movie showing off, not practical at
all.

   "I hope we're not interrupting anything."

   At James' voice, the soldiers came to immediate attention, expressions
the funniest "we did nothing" look she had seen not on a cat.  Turning, she
saw him approaching with what she supposed was now his support staff.  The
two guards from the tent were behind him, eyes even from this distance
seeming to dance at the discomfort of the Hussars.  Felek and the young
girl Ruta walked beside Ewa, her long black hair again braided.  That had
to be hard to take care of.  That gay secretary or whatever walked just
behind them, with a few other men she guessed were HIS assistants.  And, at
the King's side...

   The Lieutenant.

   She almost lost herself in those blue eyes again.  It wasn't that he had
a Legolas look to him, although she had to admit there was a bit of that to
his appearance.  It was just the beauty of his face, the implied strength
of the body under that armor.  Did the uniform make the man, or the man the
uniform?  In his case, yes.

   "Piotr," James said, eyes stern.  "Perhaps you can remind your men how
companions of mine are to be treated.  In fact, I would be very
disappointed to hear of ANY woman being treated badly while we march. 
There are many places soldiers who don't treat civilians well can be
stationed to keep them away from temptation, are there not?"

   The young blond soldier nodded.

   "Zgadzam sie, Wasza Milosc."

   "Good.  Now, if you would deal with your men over there, then pass these
instructions to the other commanders, we can get started.  I can hear
wagons starting on the road up ahead."

   "Wasza Milosc." Piotr looked at Shanna, nodding.  She nodded back,
wishing she wore something a bit better, maybe a touch of makeup.  Not
much, just a little.  She almost jumped as he yelled out a command, voice
suddenly deep, powerful.  As he passed, following his men, she let her
shoulders sag.

   "Thank you," she said, softly.  He did not pause, but she saw his eyes
widen.  Piotr nodded slightly in acknowledgment, then was gone.  Taking a
deep breath, She looked at James.

   "Fun morning."

   "Yes.  Ola, I honestly don't know what things are like in the army, but
I want my commanders to know my feelings on this.  I'd rather have ten
soldiers flogged than one woman raped.  Understood?"

   The man said something, nodding, tossing in the expression they seemed
to use to refer to James.  She assumed it meant "Your Majesty" or something
like that.  James was looking at the man, considering.

   "That's good to know.  Still, the law, and how it's being applied, can
be different things.  Just see that I DO hear if anything like that is
going on, so we can take steps that it no longer does."

   "Tak, Wasza Milosc."

   "Tak mans 'yes'?" Shanna looked at James.  He laughed.

   "I just heard you ask if 'yes means yes', so, yes, I think that's
right."

   Shanna made an obscene noise.

   "Wonderful.  So, you teaching me is out of the question."

   "I think so.  I doubt I'd be a good teacher anyway."

   "Wasza Milosc." Ewa reached a hand over, touching James on the arm.  The
look on the face of the gay advisor at the obvious familiarity in that
gesture was hilarious.  "Moge ja nauczyc."

   "Hm.  That could work.  Shanna, would you like Ewa to try and teach you?
I'll help when needed, obviously."

   Shanna looked at the younger teen.  Was this a case of wanting to keep
an eye on the dark stranger who knew her man?  Or an offer of friendship?
Or both?  She nodded, turning to slip the dagger back into its sheath.

   "Sounds good."



   ****



   It did not take long for the motive of the young girl to become clear.
She wanted to learn about James.

   Walking beside her while they led the horses, and during most the rests,
the girl with the sleeping or fussing baby peppered Shanna with questions,
wanting to know the English word for everything.  She provided the
translation, naturally, but it was definitely a two-way learning process.
Often with Shanna holding the kid (he was so cute!), Ewa would point to
something, the next few minutes devolving into the two trying with varying
degrees of success to learn, and then pronounce, the translation.  Shanna's
efforts led to much laughter from those around her, although it took a few
hours for her mounted winged companions to feel comfortable laughing with
their King and Lieutenant there.  Piotr, through, laughed often.  The
Lieutenant would look over after some horrible attempt on Shanna's part,
his grin seeming to take five years off his apparent age.  Shanna wondered
if she would be robbing the cradle as much as James was.

   Well, when in Poland...

   By late afternoon, Ewa was definitely a friend.  They had almost
developed a third language, part verbal, part expressions, but mostly hand
movements.  A subtle point of the finger at Ola, a roll of the eyes while
slightly imitating that hand gesture he tended to use, and the two teens
would break into giggles like schoolgirls.  And she was picking up some of
the language.  Shanna had taken a couple years of Spanish, all of which was
now forgotten, but she had never been that adept at it.  Even in just these
hours, though, she thought she had some of the basics down.  At the very
least, she could ask for food, water, help in general.  She suspected some
of the magic that was helping James could be at work here.

   If so, it was about time.



   ****



   "Shanna, help dinner?"

   Shanna smiled at Ewa's broken English.  She was a natural at language.
Nodding to the girl, she replied in Polish.

   "Yes."

   The one word answer had the desired effect, laughter.  Taking the as yet
unnamed babe back from Shanna, the giggling Ewa led her over towards a
cooking fire.

   Shanna was observant.  Ewa was not...  accepted.  There was a coldness
about how the older women treated her.  Smiles that were not smiles.  They
were not openly disrespectful, no.  Given the girl's position with the
King, that would not be wise.  It could also be the source of the
irritation.  Ruta's mother, especially, seemed to bore hate into the back
of Ewa's head while the teen's attention was elsewhere.  Had she secretly
hoped her ten year old would win the King's heart?  Not out of the
question. The rejected bride, though, was as sweet and nice as could be. 
When not helping with some minor chore, Ruta sat with both Ewa's charge and
a one year old in her lap.  She could even help stir a pot while so
occupied.

   Shanna helped where she could, cutting, slicing.  She didn't know the
dishes, didn't recognize a number of the vegetables.  The looks she noticed
out of the corner of her eye mirrored those directed at Ewa.

   So be it.

   James, she saw, was across the camp with a number of well dressed men.
The Captain was at his side.  Where this man, who seemed to be the power
behind the figurehead, spent most of the day was a mystery to her.  Maybe
checking the troops, maybe planning.  Important stuff, she was sure.  It
did remind her, though, that for all James was the King, all he had seen of
this mobile nation was this small wagon circle.  For all they knew, nothing
else actually existed.



   ****



   "Shanna?"

   She looked up, the large pot of stew for the non-royal masses boiling
away on the fire.  Felek stood there, face serious in the firelight.

   "Idz za mna."

   Shanna focused on those words.  'Mne' was 'me', and 'idz za' was...  a
form of 'follow'?  So, 'follow me'.  Her eyes widened.  She had done it!

   Ewa reached over, touching her bare arm.

   "Follow Felek."

   "I know that!  Jesus!" Growling playfully, she rose.  Following Felek,
as ordered, she wound her way through the camp.  Dinner was being served
everywhere.  James' meal was being plated, as was hers.  She had expected
to carry hers into his tent with Ruta.  Now, though, it looked like a
slight change of plans.

   James sat with the Winged Hussars.  Even with their armor off, Shanna
recognized them.  Especially Piotr.  She had been correct: under that
armor, his slender body was incredibly muscular.  She could feel a blush
coming on as James noticed her, waved her over.

   "Good.  Felek, bring both our meals here.  Shanna, sit." She saw a seat
to his right.  Piotr sat to his left.  Good.  If she was right next to the
hunk, who knew what she'd do.

   "So, what's going on?  Why are you slumming with these winged freaks?"
Shanna smiled as she said it.  That was one good thing about the language
situation, you could say anything in front of these people.

   "I have a proposition for you." James nodded towards Piotr.  "The
Lieutenant here, commander of my mobile escort, has observed you riding for
the past two days.  Has noticed your attitude, strength.  I've told him
you've had some weapons training, although not with the weapons used here."

   Shanna began to feel cold.

   "What would you say," he went on, "to training with Piotr here?  In the
morning, and once we make camp for the evening.  See what you know, what he
can teach you.  I'm having some men's outfits fitted for you, they'll take
your measurements after dinner.  How about it?"

   She looked down in her lap.  She had loved playing with those live
action role-players.  Banging swords around.  Sparring.  Her body had felt
alive.  To...  to do that for real.  With real soldiers.  And she'd be able
to defend herself.  Nobody would mess with her.  She'd be one of them.

   And she'd be with HIM!

   "Sure," she said, looking up directly into Piotr's blue eyes.  "I'd love
to."

   Chapter 7



   The first actual city James had seen in this world, and they were
staying as far away from it as possible.

   He sat on his horse, a light brown stallion he'd come to call Trigger.
That nobody would ever get the reference, including Shanna, amused him. 
Before him stretched empty road, dirt and stone, off almost to the horizon.
Just before it touched the sky, a stone wall rose, crossing and blocking
the path.

   James raised the spyglass to his right eye.  He could see the gate.  The
stone and wood buildings rising behind the protective wall.  The banners,
blue and green.  The river, flowing through the town.  Barely, he could see
the movement of people on the wall.  The Watu.

   "Have they made any contact with us?" James turned to look at Commander
Kosciuszko.  The head of the Winged Hussars shook his head, the resemblance
to his son Piotr striking.  He motioned with his hand at the plain before
them.

   "They refused to admit our emissary.  Understandable, I think.  Even if
we are just passing through, they wish no conflict with the Elves.  Their
pickets track ours, riders match our movements.  So long as we do nothing
to provoke them, I think they'll keep their distance."

   "Good.  In my world, a war on two fronts is never good."

   The Commander laughed.

   "For the Hussars, the 'front' is whichever direction we now point our
horses."

   James nodded, letting his gaze take in his immediate surroundings.  One
hundred of the winged warriors were arranged on either side of him, in
perfect formation.  Behind them, four hundred pikemen, arranged in four
lines across the road.  Another hundred archers stood at the ready behind
them.  Almost a hundred yards back up the road, the line of wagons and
refugees turned off onto the grasslands, heading south.  More troops lined
the path, no longer off in the distant forest, but now visibly defending
the last remnant of humanity.

   He handed the spyglass back to Piotr's father.

   "Thank you." James turned his horse, facing the soldiers.  He felt every
eye on him.  "And thank you, Men.  You do not know me.  I am a stranger in
a strange land.  Yet, all I have seen tells me of your bravery.  Your wives
and children walk behind this line.  They trust you with their lives.  And
so do I."

   "All Hail the King!"

   The sound erupted spontaneously, not led by some plant of the Captain.
The voices of women joined in, the cries from the distant refugees strong.
The soldiers turned, cheering their families, or more likely those of other
soldiers, back.  From the stream of civilians, a small boy broke free,
running down the road.  A mother started after him, stopping after a few
paces as the distance grew, exhaustion clear even from where James sat. 
James saw one of the archers take a step out of the ranks, before stopping.
James leaned his head towards the Commander.

   "Would allowing him to go get him cause any problems?"

   "No, Your Grace." The man smiled.  James nodded, sitting up in his
saddle as he looked at the archer.

   "Archer, if that's your boy, go take him back to your wife.  Give her a
good kiss before you come back."

   The solders erupted in laughter, those around the man shoving him out
towards his son.  Seeing him, the woman began running again.  The three met
in a swirl of hugs, the cheers from onlookers probably unheard.

   "We have to," James said softly to the the Commander, "let the men see
their families.  If only for a few hours.  Maybe once we're over the river,
rotate units through some sort of leave."

   "A good idea, Your Grace." The soldier paused.  "If nothing else, some
children will come of it."



   ****



   For a structure meant to only have to function for a day or two, the
wooden gateway was surprisingly formidable looking.  Thick tree trunks rose
up on either side of James, smaller logs crossing overhead, adding support.
On either side, earthen walls extended outward, eastward to the river, and
on the other side curving southwestward around the growing camp.  A moat, a
man's length wide and deep, showed the source of the dirt.  Into it were
pounded wooden stakes, made from branches left over from trees felled for
the bridge.

   The engineers had been busy.  James had to give them that.  They were
also ingenious.  Instead of an actual door for the gateway, large postholes
had been dug out.  The logs now forming the bridge over the moat were to be
pulled back and up, falling into place to form a formidable defensive
barrier.  The holes were now covered with some planks, to keep idiots like
the King from breaking a leg.

   Inside the wall, rows of wagons stretched in every direction.  As each
new cart entered, it was directed off to where it was needed, the order for
the next day's river crossing set now.  The past few days had been one of
constant messages, logistical minded soldiers and officials working out how
best to arrange the nation for the weeks to come.  James had taken no part
in that, having no experience.  What authority and power he was allowed to
have he would not waste inserting himself where he could do no real good.
That way lay disaster.

   "Your Grace."

   A man with a feathered yellow hat stood beside the road, a surprisingly
modern looking clipboard in his hand.  James moved his mount off to the
side, as did his companions, allowing the others to keep moving.  At the
man's signal, a young boy ran up to the royal wagon, jumping up beside the
driver.

   "Your Grace, we have a spot readied for your encampment.  If you and
your party are not too tired from the road, Captain Putaski would like the
honor of your company over by the river.  Jablonski here will guide you."

   "We are tired, but business first.  Thank you, and carry on."

   "Thank you, Your Grace."

   Another boy came up, eyes wide with wonder as he looked up at James, and
even wider when they fell on Shanna.  James could only chuckle as his
fellow otherworlder scowled at the boy, who suddenly remembered his job and
proceeded to lead them away.  Shanna brought her horse beside his.

   "It's so nice sticking out.  Everyone treats you so well."

   "It's up to you to pop out enough kids to change the entire ethnic
balance."

   "Ha Ha."

   "It's only a suggestion."

   They rode through the camp.  Everywhere, James saw reunions.  Saw people
coming together, hugging, crying.  Husbands and wives, parents and
children. A thousand stories.  As they neared the water, the riders passed
a soldier, uniform muddy, torn.  He stood rock still, eyes red with tears,
as two preteen girls clung to his sides bawling.  James looked away.

   Not every story was happy.



   ****



   Captain Putaski stood at the water's edge, waiting.  Beside him was a
man James had not seen since that first night, the head of the engineers.
What his name was, he couldn't say, but that face he knew.  While
exhaustion seemed to roll off the man, he stood tall, expression one of
pride.  Looking behind them, James understood why.

   The wooden bridge stretched across the river, from shore to shore,
floating on the slow moving waters.  It did not go across straight, but at
an angle, or at least so it looked to him.  The middle seemed to bow a
little bit, the current pushing the connected rafts down stream, fighting
the connecting ropes.  The middle of the bridge also seemed wider, extra
rafts tied to either side.  He wondered why, until he saw the archers, and
the boat upstream prevented from traveling father by the barrier.  James
had not even considered that feature of this design.

   "Your Grace." The Captain bowed his head slightly, James as always
wondering which of them was in fact King.  The engineer bowed farther.

   "Your Grace.  It is an honor to have you here."

   "It's an honor to see the result of your labor." James swung his leg
over, dismounting with an ease he still considered impressive.  A boy
appeared from nowhere, taking the reins, his two guards emerging from what
he was calling "Guard-Space".  So far as he could tell, they hid between
the universes, awaiting his need.  Shanna dismounted as well, no guards
appearing for her benefit.  She moved up beside James as he walked over to
the bridge.  Stopping, he gave a slight bow of his head to the Engineer.

   "Between this and the fort, I'm incredibly impressed.  Is it done? 
Ready for use?"

   "It is, Your Grace.  I guarantee it will transport twice our number, and
last at least a week."

   "If it's not burning behind us by tomorrow night, our plans have all
been upset," Captain Putaski said.  "Your Grace, we have a decision to
make. The bridge is done, so we could start sending the wagons across.  We
already have troops over there, naturally.  However, it's only two hours
until sunset.  Only half the wagons have yet arrived.  If we truly want to
take this time to reorganize..."

   "We wait until first light." James understood.  "We'd also be divided
while we slept.  Probably best to not make the crossing, than to have half
trapped on one side."

   "Yes, Your Grace.  A few of the commanders are pushing for an immediate
crossing, but with your support..."

   His support.  The man before him was not a general.  Not a brigadier. 
He was the head of the Royal Guard.  In command because...  well, because.
He had taken charge because someone had to, and still was because those who
commanded troops were off doing that important duty.  Any one of them could
exert their right to take charge.  Might feel it their duty to do so, to
save the Kingdom and its people.

   Which is where James fit in.

   "Unless someone comes up with a very good argument, I'm for waiting
until morning.  They need this."

   The Engineer seemed to let out a breath.  James cocked his head at him.

   "Yes?"

   "Nothing, Your Grace.  It's just that I agree with your decision.  We
can use the time to shore up a few things we noticed before you arrived. 
Secure the far bank a little more.  Nothing serious."

   "Fair enough," James said, not wanting to call the man out too much. 
"But, just for the future, I trust engineers.  If you need more time, say
so.  Better to get it right now, than to have to repair a failure."



   ****



   "That thing would have fallen apart, wouldn't it?"

   Shanna's tone was not happy.  James could only chuckle as they walked
the horses through the camp.

   "No, it probably would have held up.  God forbid the wind kicked up, or
something, though."

   She snorted, very unladylike.  James shook his head.

   "What everyone's being asked to do, with failure resulting in friends
and family dying..."

   "I know, I know.  I just never liked relying on others."

   "How's the training coming?"

   Her eyes flicked over.  James kept his face passive.

   "Good," she finally answered.  "Really good.  It's helping me pick up
the language, too.  At least the swear words."

   "Those are the best ones.  How's the first day in armor?"

   "Not bad." She looked down, James following her gaze.  The steel
breastplate had been beaten out, two bumps proving her womanhood.  That had
thinned the armor, naturally, but for now it was the only option.  Once
they were settled, she could have a custom set made.

   "You still don't want to go with the chain mail bikini?  It does wonders
for your mobility and tan."

   "My tan is taken care of, thanks.  You can dress your personal guard
like that if you'd like."

   "It is good to be the king."

   He saw the royal banner up ahead.  It had not been used before now.  No
sense in telling whatever enemy there was exactly where the new King was,
or even that there was one.  Now, though, the Captain had felt the people
needed it.  Needed the visual reminder of power, of leadership.  Of
normality.  All around, James saw glances directed at the wagon, at the
women and children around it.  Wondering who, there, was the King.

   Maybe he could promote Felek to take over a few times a week.

   "Your Grace!"

   Well, that was it.  Cover blown.  James handed his reins to another
mysteriously appearing boy.  Felek ran up, eyes wide.

   "Your Grace!  I just saw my cousins!  They're going to be one wagon
circle behind us!"

   "That's good, Felek.  We'll have to make sure you can spend some time
with them as we travel." He glanced around.  Ewa wasn't visible.  Felek
pointed to the tent.

   "Ewa is setting up your things." Trust the boy to know his thoughts. 
"We now have a second Royal Wagon, with more things saved from the palace
showing up."

   "It's amazing," Ola said, walking up behind Felek, "what people remember
they somehow accidentally brought along amidst their bare necessities when
I mention your name.  I fully expect to find the entire throne room packed
away somewhere, wrapped in moth eaten rugs."

   "Inhabited by the King of the Moths?" James asked.

   "The Moth King!" Felek shouted.  Shanna laughed.

   "Mothra!"

   "Who?"

   "Mothra!," Shanna said.  Pausing, she chose her Polish words carefully.
"A giant moth, wings a hundred feet wide!  Guardian to a small island
people, twin princesses talk to it.  It helps fight off evil monsters!"

   "Does it have fangs?" Felek's eyes were wide with wonder.

   "Yes.  Yes it does."



   ****



   The royal tent how had a royal bed.

   With a royal mattress.

   Laying on it, the royal girlfriend.

   Also, the royal baby.

   James let the flap fall, the noise from the camp lessening a bit.  Ewa
lay curled on her side, eyes closed.  Her feet were bare, sandals discarded
on a dark red rug now on the grass beside the bed.  The babe lay beside
her, forehead touching hers.  Looking around, James saw a dressing screen,
a second traveling wardrobe, opened to reveal women's clothing as well as
male royal garb.  A table with four chairs sat almost in the middle, only
the central pole supporting the tent keeping the symmetry from being
perfect.  A book case, with folding doors open to reveal two dozen large
volumes, brought an audible gasp from him.  Ewa stirred at the sound.  Her
eyes opened.

   "Mmmm..."

   "That looks comfy," James said, unable to help the smile on his face. 
Ewa looked up tiredly.

   "It is.  It so is."

   "Let me test it." She scooted back.  James slipped his riding boots off,
lowering himself onto the mattress facing her.  Ewa slid the babe down so
he lay beside her chest, mouth next to a covered nipple.  James moved his
forehead to touch hers, a hand coming up to stroke her cheek.  Ewa
literally purred.  "You're right, Ewa.  This is comfy."

   "I never want to walk again."

   James looked down at the baby.  He looked so happy.  Content.

   "You know, Ewa, we probably should name your son."

   Her eyes widened.

   "My...  son?"

   "That's what he is now, Ewa.  He's your son.  He loves you."

   As if he understood, the boy grabbed her dress, snuggling his face
closer to her covered breasts.  The love in Ewa's eyes told all.

   "What should we name him?"

   "What was your father's name?"

   She looked up, startled.

   "Marik."

   "Then, I think we should call him Marik."

   "Marik." Ewa pulled back, bringing the boy up until his nose touched
her. James raised himself up on an elbow.  "Marik.  My little Marik..."



   ****



   They were so few.

   On the road, stretched out before and behind him, his people had seemed
countless.  An unending stream of humanity.  Now, gathered before him,
reality finally penetrated.  James had been, personally, in larger crowds.
The almost nineteen thousand civilians he now saw would, just, fill the
hockey arena.  Add in the nine thousand or so troops and you still didn't
get half the crowd of a football game during even the Bills' worst season.
And this was all.  This was all of humanity.  This was what had to survive,
to reach some island haven.  And they looked to him.  Looked to James to
lead them, inspire them.  To keep them alive.  Safe.

   Who would ever aspire to lead?

   A small stage had been erected in the center of the walled camp.  The
people gathered before it, families, soldiers.  A sea of metal and cloth.
The armor, in particular, reflected the torches, creating stars of yellow
fire.  James wondered if God looked down, if he saw them as equal to his
own constellations.  Humanity reflected up, as the heavens reflected down.

   James let out a sigh, the brown robed priest droning on with his
benediction.  He was no poet.  No philosopher.  He had to stay grounded. 
Stay who he was.  Not pretend to be more.

   "God bless King James."

   Right.

   He rose at his cue, Brother Ofim bowing as he stepped back.  The people
before the stage knelt, heads bowed, a wave of subservience to him.  All of
humanity, his to command.

   "Rise."

   They rose.  Almost thirty thousand pairs of eyes on him.  Thirty
thousand hopes, dreams, counting on him.  What little he had prepared to
say vanished.  It had been empty platitudes.  They deserved better.  James
opened his mouth, closed it, wet his lips, then began.

   "For five days, I think- the days seem to blur- I have been with you
people.  Walked.  Ridden.  I did not know you, when the captain of the
guard came into my room, told me I was your King.  I...  I have never
dreamed of being a King.  I wanted to read about history.  Maybe teach.  Be
normal.  Happy.

   "But I am now your King, and the honor overwhelms me."

   James gestured with his arm, encompassing them all.

   "I have seen the people of Nowy Kiev overcome their darkest hour.  The
Elves thought to destroy us, but you...  WE, are Poles.  We are Poles, from
Poland of old.  My own family is four generations removed from our
homeland. You are countless more, but that blood still runs strong.  I have
seen in these few days such strength, such love, that I am ashamed. 
Ashamed that no human could be worthy of leading such as you.  Yet...  I
will try.  I will do all that is in my power, and attempt much that is not,
to bring you to a new home.  Not an Eden, for only God can send us there,
but a land we may call our home.  A new Poland.  For Poland always rises
again, its strength not in the land, but in us.  Poles are not those who
live in Poland.  Poland...  Poland is, and always will be, the land where
Poles are."

   James raised his right arm, fist clenched.

   "LONG LIVE POLAND!"

   Chapter 8

   "Alarm!  Alarm!"

   James awoke to shouting, to a bugle blaring.  He shot up in the
darkness, Ewa's bare arm unconsciously thrown off of him.  Untangling his
legs from hers, James swung his feet over onto the floor, standing as the
girl began to rouse herself.  Her voice was groggy.

   "James.  What..."

   She had to still be half asleep, to use his name.  He had made her
whisper it as they had made love, the sounds almost more intimate than any
touch.  He turned, the outline of her soft form sitting up.

   "I don't..."

   The tent flap shot open, a soldier rushing in with a lantern.  James
raised his arm to shield his eyes as Ewa pulled the blanket to cover
herself.  The soldier jerkily bowed.

   "Your Grace!  They're waking the camp!  We're to move out immediately!"
Felek ran in, eyes wide.  James could see him quickly look away from his
sister.  He ignored the boy, focusing on the guard.

   "What is it?"

   "I don't know," the soldier answered.  "I..."

   Another man entered the tent, a messenger.  He dropped to one knee, head
bowed.

   "Your Grace!  Captain Putaski sends word elves have been seen in the
western woods.  Our pickets have made contact.  We're starting to cross the
river immediately."

   James closed his eyes.  He wasn't ready for this.  Standing nude before
these people was nothing compared to how he felt trying to protect the
nation around him.  People were going to die...  and he could not stop it.

   But he would try.



   ****



   Shanna was fighting the armor straps as James tore out of his tent.  The
damned thing wasn't easy to put on, at least not yet.  The yelling and
shouting around her wasn't helping, her attention constantly pulled from
the task at hand.  A stampede of cavalry tore by, heading east, while a
company of archers on the other side of the royal wagon ran west. 
Confusion.

   "James!" she yelled.  "What...?"

   He didn't hear her.  The King was on a horse, not even his, and off
before she could take a step towards him.  Ewa, long hair a mess and dress
only half on, was out of the tent a moment later, brother at her side
carrying the baby basket given to them just the day before.

   Damn it.  What the fuck was going on?



   ****



   "Captain!"

   James reined in the horse, fighting the unfamiliar animal.  Men lined
the earthen wall before him, the dirt on this side formed into a fighting
ledge.  Others massed in formation on the open ground, archers, pikemen. 
Hussars, winged and un, stood near the open gate.  Never had James felt
such fear.  Felt such tension around him.  Almost having to force himself,
he dropped from his mount.  moving towards a gathering of officers.  His
guards, Duda and Nowak, fell in behind him.

   "Captain Putaski!  Report!"

   The officers turned as one to him, surprised.  Putaski, particularly,
seemed shocked the King was here, instead of making his way into the
forming line of wagons.  He bowed, as did the others.

   "Your Grace.  You should get to safety..."

   "I said I wanted your report, Captain.  What's the situation?"

   "Your Grace." James had come to realize that expression was not just one
of respect.  It was also a handy way to respond while not saying anything,
giving one time to think of how to deal with the King.  The Captain took a
moment to do that now.  "Your Grace, one of our patrols ran into an Elven
unit within the one mile perimeter we had set up.  It was larger than a
scouting patrol.  We have to prepare for the possibility that large units
are on the way."

   "Fuck."

   "Exactly, Your Grace.  You should get to safety."

   James looked around.  Saw every eye not watching the forest on him.  He
shook his head.

   "It will be awhile before it's our turn to cross the bridge.  Duda." He
turned to his guard.  "Send a runner back.  Tell Ola to let me know when
they're beginning the crossing." He wanted to tell Ewa.  Tell her that he
would be safe, to stay with the others.  That he...  loved her.  That would
not look good, not be kingly.  Such messages he had to trust she would read
between the lines, that Ola would know what to do, what to say.

   "Of course, Your Grace." Duda turned to find a messenger.  James looked
around, saw a crate.  With a somewhat graceful move, he stepped up onto it.
The raised eyebrows of the Captain were well worth it.  James raised his
arms.

   "Soldiers of Poland!" His voice was loud.  The sounds around him
vanished, even the horses seeming to pause in their snorting.  The men,
almost as one, took a half step towards him.  Except those on the wall, as
that would have caused them to fall off the ledge.  "Men, the ungodly Elves
have woken me from my sleep, dragged me away from a beautiful woman. 
This...  is unforgivable!" Laughter broke from the ranks.  Good.  He
pointed over the wall, to the dark forest beyond.  "We will hold them.  We
will destroy all who would dare come between us and our women, our
families. We will hold this line for as long as one wagon is on this side
of the river.  For as long as one child is in danger.  Who do we fight
for?"

   "POLAND!" The roar of the men came loud, strong.  He nodded.

   "For Poland, I will stay with you men, until I am needed on the far
side. For we are as open to attack there as we are here.  Long live Poland!

   "Hail King James!"

   He jumped off the box, not waiting for the chant to die down. 
Figurehead he may be, but it would be a figurehead that inspired.  Maybe,
in time, even more.  He walked over to the Captain.

   "I'll stay here an hour or two."

   "Yes...  Your Grace."



   ****



   Shanna hated feeling useless.

   All was abuzz around her, packing, panicking.  She had no job, with
regard to the wagon.  She had offered to watch the babe, now apparently
named Marik, but Ewa had shook her head, not wanting to risk even that
separation from the child.  Piotr and the other Hussar escorts were nowhere
to be seen, off with James she assumed.  Should she follow?  And then what?
She was no warrior.  They fought with lances while on horseback, training
she was not even close to starting.  No, she would be useless, worse that
useless.  A burden to be protected.

   What did that leave?

   Shanna looked off towards the river.  If she was on her own, she knew
what she wanted to do.  Take a closer look at that bridge.  See how it held
up under the stream starting across.

   Not that she was paranoid about such things.



   ****



   Large bonfires roared in no man's land, casting long shadows into the
night.  The field, formerly forest, flickered randomly around the hundreds
of tree stumps.  James found his mind trying to find the pattern, trying to
guess the next burst of flame.

   He never could.

   The fires were a good and bad idea, in his mind.  Yes, they illuminated
all the land around the fort.  No Elf would creep up on them, no enemy
could form in the field under cover of darkness.  Yet, if their presence
had NOT been located exactly before, it was now.  The glow would be seen
for miles, probably as far away as that northern town.  They could be
drawing the very army they sought to escape.

   Every choice involved risk.

   James stood behind the wall, head looking over at the forest.  Waiting.
Waiting for what they did not want to see.  But, he did.  If they came,
then they'd know.  They could react.  Plan.  Until that time, until the
location and strength of the Elves was discovered, they could be any size,
any place.

   Better to know.

   The solder beside him, an archer not much older than he, seemed nervous.
That always unnerved him.  There was no reason anyone should ever feel that
way around James.  Smiling, he cocked his head at the man.

   "Feel free to talk, Archer."

   He looked startled and guilty.  James looked back over the wall, hoping
that eased things somewhat.  After a moment, the man spoke.

   "Your Grace...  may I ask you something?"

   "Yes.  I may not answer, but you may ask."

   Another pause.  James was starting to feel like it was time to leave. 
Not out of a sense of danger, but just so he could be among those who knew
him.  Could talk to him.  He felt comfortable with his Hussar escorts.  His
guards.  Ewa.  Was that why kings, at times, seemed isolated from their
people?  It was just a way to keep sane?

   "Your Grace, there is a rumor that..."

   The archer cut himself off as both he and James saw the same movement at
the forest edge.  Horses with riders burst out of the tree line into the
open, galloping at full speed.  As one, the dozen Polish cavalry swung
towards the fort.

   "Archers!" The cry came from an officer down the line.  "Target where
they exited!  Fire on my command!"

   The wall was suddenly full of men, bows raised, strings pulled back
taut. James knew he should jump back, provide room for one more archer, but
he wanted to see.  Had to see.  The riders came towards them, heading
towards the gate.  One was yelling something...

   From the same point in the trees, horse-like creatures with elven riders
leapt into the open.

   James had never seen an elf.  From this distance, he still couldn't say
he had.  They seemed green, but that could just be a trick of the eye.  The
beasts they rode, though, were furry, like long legged buffalo.  Not
normal.

   "Fire!"

   The twang of arrows releasing came from all around him.  He could feel
the wind as they arched into the air.

   "Again!"

   The archers brought another arrow up before the elves had even reined
in. They were released as the elves looked around, getting their bearings
in this new place.  They were followed by a third flight of arrows as the
first began to fall among the creatures.

   James winced.  Those...  those were living beings being killed. 
Intelligent creatures, letting out cries of pain.  The first wave caught
them unaware, striking beast and elf alike.  Many were thrown from their
mounts, hitting the ground with thuds James thought he could feel even from
this distance.  The second and third showers of arrows fell on the handful
still mounted, reducing them further.

   A horn blast.  Charging forward, a company of thirty Winged Hussars,
lances down.

   No creature would be allowed to flee.

   James turned from the carnage, the cheers of those around him sounding
unreal to his ears.  This was the point, wasn't it?  Killing the enemy, so
they couldn't kill you?  Wasn't this what they wanted?

   For the first time in a week, he wished he was home.

   The riders from the patrol were inside the gate, dismounting.  James
quickly made his way over, his guards with him as always.  He stopped short
of the ring of officers, listening.

   "We ran into them by that game path, the one running south." Someone
handed the soldier a drink, the man gulping it down greedily.  "We had seen
a patrol earlier, unmounted.  Ran them down.  No sign of any main body yet.
It may be they're camped up for the night, that these are just marking the
trails for tomorrow."

   "We can't take that chance," one of the officers said.  "Get another
mounted patrol in there.  I want those woods swept clean."

   James turned away.  He was of no use here.  Maybe no use anywhere.



   ****



   Shanna shook her head as the wagons slowly rolled past her onto the
bridge.

   It did NOT look safe.  For one, bridges should be up off the water. 
High off the water.  Not floating on it.  And guard rails.  A bridge, in
her mind, should definitely have guard rails along the side.  They didn't
even have to be functional: just give her the APPEARANCE of safety.  That's
all she wanted.  For it to look safe.

   Things did seem to be moving along well, at least.  The "bridge" was as
wide as the road, allowing people and wagons to cross side by side. 
Torches were set at intervals, with luck such that they didn't set the
entire thing on fire.  That would be bad.

   Maybe she could use one of the boats.  Four sat on the shore, simple
things made from canvas (hopefully waterproof) stretched over a wood frame.
Shanna assumed they had been used to get to the far shore during
construction.  She had been in a canoe before.  It wouldn't be hard to just
paddle her way across the river.  Tiring, but not hard.

   Her eyes went upstream.  The boat which had been waiting there at sunset
was gone, passage down river denied by the bridge.  That had to have pissed
the crew off, having to row upstream instead of just floating down with the
current.  Well, they could try again in a day or two.  The bridge would be
gone by then.

   Something flickered on the river.

   Shanna took a step forward, hand going to the hilt of her sword.  There
it was again.  A flicker of light in the middle of the river, upstream. 
Like someone trying to use a lighter, or flint...

   Oh.  God.

   Fire.

   A fireship.

   That's how you attack the bridge.  Fire!

   "Fire ship!" She yelled, first in English, then after a curse at her
stupidity, in Polish.  A soldier just a few feet away rushed to her side.
She pointed as another flicker came.  "There!"

   He let out a curse, turning to yell out his own alarm.  Shanna looked
around wildly.  What could they do?  There were archers on the bridge, but
arrows would not stop a flaming boat.  It wouldn't even be manned, just
left to drift into them.  The only way to stop the fucker was...

   To sink it.

   "Follow me!" Shanna ran to one of the boats, grabbing the side, pulling
it towards the water.  A man was with her almost instantly, grabbing the
other side.  She saw soldiers rushing towards the shore, the other boats
taken up.  As her feet hit the river, she jumped in the bow.  A paddle lay
on the bottom.  She grabbed it, at the same time adjusting her sword to
keep the sheath from jabbing through the fabric hull.  She felt the boat
drop completely in the water, other men now piling in.  She pointed at the
distant dark shape.

   "There!  Fast!"

   She dug her paddle into the water, four others joining to propel them
forward.  She didn't know what they'd do once they got there.  First things
first.

   "Stroke!  Stroke!" The Poles probably had no idea what the hell she was
saying, but their rhythm fell in line with hers.  The boat shot through the
water, distance closing.  She could see it now.  It was a raft, not a boat.
There would be no destroying the hull...

   Flame exploded before them.

   "GOD!" The entire world before her lit up.  Whatever they had piled on
top of that thing, it had gone up like lighter fluid.  Vaguely, she saw a
shape dive off the back, their attacker fleeing now that his job was done.
He meant nothing, though.  Only the fire mattered.  How to stop it?!

   Another minute of hard paddling, and the bow hit the raft.  The heat was
searing, unbearable.  Strong male hands grabbed the wooden log running
along side them.  Tossing the paddle under her seat, Shanna stood in the
boat, praying it held her weight.  With a heave, she stepped first onto her
seat, then onto the raft.

   It was square.  Logs tied together, forming a floating platform.  In the
center, burning boxes and logs piled high, black smoke pouring out.  The
smell was horrid, like burning oil, her eyes watering even as her skin
reddened from the heat.  There would be no pushing the fire into the river.
No.  Nor could they steer it towards shore.  All they could do was...

   Her eyes fell on the ropes binding the deck.

   "Cut the ropes!" Unsheathing her sword, she spread her legs, hacking
down with all her strength.  The blade made it half way through the first
rope.  She did it again.  And again.  Men were all around her, chopping,
hacking.  A canoe pulled up in front of her, a big burly man holding up a
huge axe.  Shanna paused, grinning at him.

   "Oh, I like you!  Other side!" She motioned them to the other side of
the raft.  With a roar of approval, the boat shot forward, the men
disembarking as soon as they found open space.  With another hack, Shanna
found the rope under her completely severed.

   Time for the next one.

   She ran down the side of the raft.  Shanna could see the bridge before
them, see the wagons now moving faster.  Men with pikes were rushing on,
probably hoping to keep the raft away just far enough to be safe.  The
smoke, though, would panic the animals.  And the people.  No.  It could not
be allowed to get closer.

   The deck under her feet shifted.  Looking down, ignoring a burning ember
landing on her arm, she saw a gap.  Yes!  It WAS shoddily constructed!  A
rush job, with no understructure!  They could do this!

   "Hurry!  Faster!" Now at the front, she moved to the middle.  Maybe they
could split it in two, the raft dividing under the fire.  Ignoring more
sparks, coughing in the acrid smoke, she hacked away at any visible ropes.
Once her sword slipped, coming an inch within her left boot.  Her only
reaction was to spread her stance wider.



   ****



   "Come!" An arm grabbed hers, stopping Shanna mid-swing.  She looked up
at the soldier, the man barely recognizable as such.  He shook her arm
again.  "Come!"

   She felt the raft shift under her.  Saw the gaps now widening in the
logs.  A boat was pulled up before them.  Sheathing her sword, she did not
so much board as fall into the bow, arms and legs suddenly too tired to
work.  Strong hands pulled her upright, a canteen of water shoved into her
hands.  Coughing, she tried to drink.  It seemed to just force the ash
farther down her throat.  A second swallow was better.

   There was a crack.  A splash.  Cries of joy.  She looked up.

   The raft had split multiple places.  Most of the fire had slid off, the
shift in weight splitting the raft even further.

   They had done it.

   They had stopped it.

   Shanna felt her shoulders practically collapse.  God.  She was tired. 
Her entire body ached.  She looked at the hands holding the canteen.  Her
brown hands were black, black from poisonous ash.  Her armor, too, looked
black.  God, she was a mess.

   "Hail the Dark Hussar!"

   The shout came from to her right.  She looked.  A soldier in another
boat was looking right at her, arms raised high, hands clenched together.
The soldiers with him raised their hands as well, echoing their cheer.

   "Hail the Dark Hussar!  Hail the Dark Hussar!" The cry was picked up on
the bridge, on both shores.  Those behind her took up the cry as well.  She
whirled, looking at the soldiers.  Their eyes...  it was her.  They were
cheering for her.

   She closed her eyes.  How could she sleep with that racket?



   ****



   James watched the last troops march, with almost contemptuous slowness,
over the bridge.  The morning shadows were getting short, and still nothing
serious had come to threaten either end of the bridge.  Four times,
skirmishes had been fought in the woods.  Four times, the elves had been
slaughtered with only a few Poles lost.

   For the second time, they had bought time for their nation to cross to
safety.

   James lowered the glass, handing it over to Piotr.  He did not need it
to see the smoke start to rise from the bridge, see the flames.  See yet
another bridge burn behind them.

   "Your Grace," Piotr said, "we should catch up with the Royal Wagon. 
We're too close to the rearguard."

   "I know.  I just wanted to make sure." More smoke from the bridge.  "I
assume we're stopping early tonight?"

   "No.  Father said the Captain wants to get as far from the crossing
point as possible before nightfall."

   "Hmm..." James understood that line of thinking.  Approved, even.  But,
the welfare of the people had to be weighed against security.  "Maybe we
can up the rations again tonight.  Celebrate, reward them for not
panicking."

   "Maybe celebrate Shanna."

   James looked at the blond teen, eyebrow raised.  The Lieutenant looked
away, embarrassment clear on his face.  So, that's how it was.  This wasn't
just one way.  He laughed, shaking his head.

   "Dark Hussar Day.  Has a ring to it."

   Chapter 9



   Shanna let herself slip further into the cool river, eyelids half closed
as the sun touched the trees across the river.  She had never, ever,
enjoyed a cold bath as much as now.  Even with no soap, let alone bubbles,
she could feel a week's worth of road and ash lift free, float away.  It
was also nice to be nude.  She had never appreciated how much that freedom
mattered to her, until forced to spend a week clothed.

   The water touched her chin.  Heaven.

   The column had stopped two hours before sunset, to the relief of all. 
Shanna pitied those at the head, those who had left camp long before
sunrise.  They had not even been able to take their first rest until the
last wagon had crossed the bridge, lest they hold up the entire evacuation
and endanger those yet to cross.  She also pitied those camped on the other
side of the road, cut off from the river.  They could cross, yes, and she
was sure a few of the women she saw around her doing laundry, bathing, had
done so.  With water so close, a little extra walking would not be a
deterrent.  The wagons would switch sides the following night, allowing
equal access to all.

   Deciding she had soaked long enough, the cold not THAT good for her
aching muscles, Shanna pushed herself up.  She stood, knee deep next to the
riverbank, water dripping from her brown skin.  She ignored the eyes of the
women around her.  While every one was different, she was more so, shape
fleshier, more muscular.  Darker.  Shanna stood still, enjoying the feel of
the warm breeze flowing over her skin, nipples hardening on breasts no
longer encumbered by tight cloth and armor.  Armor with built in padding.
That's what she needed.  Comfort and support.

   Heh.  That's how she could make her living: designing modern bras for
these people.

   Shanna climbed back up onto the bank, grabbing a towel.  Her eyes went
to the wagon circle as she dried herself, still enjoying the moment.  How
many men were watching?  The distance from the wagons beside the road to
here was reasonably far, enough to give the illusion of privacy.  Some
would be looking, though.  The young men.  So, too, when the women packed
up and went back and the males took their place at the river's edge, the
younger girls would be sneaking looks at the hard male forms exposing
themselves.  And who could blame them?  Now that soldiers and civilians
were mixing more, she could see for herself how many attractive options
there were.

   None had yet matched Piotr's smile.

   She let her own smile cross her face, running the towel under her
breasts.  Shanna hoped he trained her some more that evening, despite all
that had happened that morning.  She needed training.  Long, hard, hands on
training...

   "She's over there."

   Something about the way the woman said that got Shanna's attention,
elevating the comment over the other conversations around her.  She,
somehow, knew it referred to her.  Turning, Shanna saw a teen girl walking
up the riverbank towards her, an older woman in a faded blue dress turning
away.  Ah.  That had been Ruta's mother.  No wonder the tone had been
recognizable.  The teen, though, was a stranger.  A slim thing, with red
hair falling down her back, wet from a recent dunking.  Her dress was
purple, tied with a green rope at the waist, skin as white as any Shanna
had ever seen.  She would have guessed Irish, if asked to classify the
girl, but all Whites looked the same to her.

   "Are...  are you the Dark Hussar?"

   The voice was soft, nervous, yet somehow strong.  Shanna was also
surprised to realize she was not really consciously translating.  Who knew
she'd pick up a language this fast?

   "My name is Shanna." Deciding she really didn't want to stay nude in
front of this girl, she bent down, began putting on what these people
considered panties.  "What can I do for you?"

   The girl frowned, expression confused.  Shanna realized she had spoken
English.  So, she wasn't adjusting THAT fast.

   "Sorry," she said, now stepping into the pair of men's pants Ewa had
fitted to her body.  Her mind consciously considered each Polish word
before she said it.  "My language is not yours.  My name is Shanna."

   The girl's confused expression did not leave as Shanna buttoned up the
fly, tying the rope belt.  She bent down, breasts hanging like the udders
they were, grabbed the "blouse", and slipped it over her head as she
straightened.  No bra tonight.  Looking at the girl, her embarrassment was
clear.  Shanna was too tired for this.

   "What do you want?"

   The girl looked down, hands clenched before her.  Shanna felt the eyes
of the others on them.  From the corner of her eye, she saw Ewa stand, the
babe Marik trying to suckle her bare breast.  The stranger raised her head.

   "My name," the girl said, "is Anelie.  My...  my brother was with you
last night.  The raft.  He told me.  Everything.  How incredible you were!"
Her eyes widened.  They were dark green.  "I saw it, too!  Some of it!  We
had just crossed the bridge when the raft lit up!  My god, you were
amazing! I've never seen a woman like you before!"

   She was babbling.  Shanna felt tired.  She didn't like girls who
babbled.

   "I am what I am.  Again, what can I do for you?"

   "I want to serve you!" The girl took a step forward, Shanna almost
taking a step back in response.  "I want you to train me!  I want to fight,
like my brother!  Like you!  I'll be your servant, your squire, whatever!
Please!"

   Shanna put a hand to her forehead, rubbing, a headache coming.  She now
had sympathy for James.

   "Look..."

   "Anelie."

   "Anelie.  I'm tired.  I'm hungry.  I'm about to go get my butt handed to
me in a sword fight..."

   "May I watch, Miss Shanna?"

   "What?" Shanna blinked.  The redhead bowed her head.

   "May I watch you use your sword?"

   Well...  that wouldn't be committing to anything.  She let out a sigh.

   "Sure.  Why the fuck not."



   ****



   James lifted his hand from the white pawn, trying not to grin at the
growing frown on Piotr's face.  The young lieutenant leaned forward, hands
on his knees.  James was not the best chess player, but he knew the game.
Had read some books, even played on the chess team for a couple years.  He
also preferred certain strategies which threw off more casual players. 
Castling on the queen's side had ruined Piotr's entire first plan of
attack, and now his white pawns, freed of any defensive need, were
advancing down on the black king's defenses.

   Poor guy.  James felt for the doomed king.

   Felek stood next to them, looking down at the game with rapt attention.
James doubted the kid had ever seen chess before, or any real board games.
He'd have to teach him.  And Ruta.  The two ten year olds could battle each
other.

   A groan came from Piotr.  James tried not to look smug.

   "You are...  good, Your Grace."

   "I'm just surprising you.  You attacked while I had the advantage of
being White, without waiting to see what I was going to do."

   "Father," he sighed, "always said I was reckless at this game." He moved
a hussar back from it's advanced position, threatening an exposed pawn.

   "There's a place for it, but not against an unknown opponent.  Not until
you know what you're up against." James moved his bishop, the diagonal now
clear, down the board.  "Check."

   "Whoa!" Felek said, eyes wide.  "You're going to get his rook!"

   Shoulders slumping, Piotr moved his hussar to block the attack, James
following through by sliding his bishop into the rook.

   "I think I have lost, Your Grace."

   "You can probably put up a good fight."

   "Yes, but..."

   The sound of women's voices came to them.

   "But chaos returns to us." The three males laughed.  James sat up,
rotating his shoulders.  The chess set, with its golden inlays and
incredible carved pieces, showing up like it did had made his day.  He had
not thought of the game in his time here, but it seemed to fit a need he
should have known.  His mind felt so much fresher.  He held out his hand.

   "Good game, Lieutenant Kosciuszko." The teen looked at him for a moment,
unsure.  James smiled.  "My Dad taught me to always shake with an opponent,
no matter the outcome."

   Piotr gave his own grin, taking the King's hand and giving it a firm
shake.

   "Good game, Your Grace.  You beat me soundly."

   "And, by the look on her face, it's time for you to beat Shanna
soundly."

   "Oh, he can try." The brown woman looked down at them, cleanliness
seeming to radiate from her body.  Her clothing stuck to patches of wetness
on her body in interesting ways, which as King, James felt no shame in
admiring.  Piotr, too, gave the woman a good long look, eyes seeming to
focus on her breasts for longer than would be good for his health.  She did
not seem to mind.

   "Well," Piotr said, standing, "if the foreign commoner wishes to be put
in her place, I guess I can oblige."

   "My place is standing over your defeated body."

   "I wish you luck in that dream, Lady Shanna."

   They moved away.  James picked up the white queen, turning it over in
his hand.  Amazing craftsmanship.  Amazing carved bosom.  The former King
who had commissioned this set had some obvious tastes in women.

   Former Kings...  James looked off to the west, eyes on what could not be
seen.  These people had still not told him the why of this war.  Why the
Elves did what they did.  They had NOT attacked last night.  Nor on the
road.  And they could have- easily.  Harassed.  Delayed.  But they had not.
The Elves...  had LET them cross the river.  Had let them flee.

   Why?

   He looked back down at the chess board, the Black King cowering behind
his hussar.  The war had not been about exterminating humans.  It had been
about...  occupying the city?  Had that been the goal?  Exterminating the
royal family?  No, one did not need to take Nowy Kiev to discover if the
explosion in the royal chambers had done its job.  Unless the two were
unrelated?  Were the Elves not, in fact, responsible for the loss of the
King?

   He needed information.  Information some, with perhaps things to hide,
might not want to reveal.

   James closed his eyes.  He was seriously considering starting a secret
information gathering service.  Great.  Let's hear it for the American Way.

   Wood crashed into wood.  He looked up to see the two lovestruck warriors
banging their practice swords together.  Around them, the other women
prepared the evening meal, eyes occasionally going to his companion with
unhidden disapproval.  Nothing he could do there.  Shanna had no use for
them, they had contempt for her.  If things came to a head, James suspected
she could deal with it.

   Probably by banging something with a stick.



   ****



   The blows to Shanna's head came swiftly, three quick swings.  She
brought her sword up, parrying the attacks.  She shifted her feet, trying
to find some stability in the uneven grass.  In the blink of an eye,
Piotr's sword appeared down low.  Her own weapon had barely reached down to
her waist when his wood blade whacked her in the thigh.

   "Ow!  Mother Fucker!"

   "Pay attention."

   "I am!  Damn it!" Her anger was at herself, naturally.  Her defenses
were still as strong as wet cardboard.  Stepping back, she shook the leg,
trying to get rid of the sting.  Piotr stepped back as well.

   "You can't just parry.  Fights don't last long.  You have to turn my
attack against me, counter attack to catch me off guard."

   Oh, she'd catch him off guard.  With a yell, she charged him, both hands
on the hilt of her sword.  He brought his up to defend.  Using the force of
the impact, her sword rebounded off and swung low.  Piotr spun away...

   ...his sword banging into her left arm.

   "Fuck!"

   "Like that.  You left yourself open by attacking too strongly."

   Her eyes narrowed.  The teen was much more serious than normal. 
Something had annoyed him, the guy taking it out on her.  She glanced over
at James, the Royal Stranger putting away some sort of chess set.

   Ah.

   "What's the matter?  Upset you got whomped at some children's game?"

   His expression changed.  Now she had done it.  Challenged his manhood.
Well, it was his manhood she was interested in.  Her eyes flicked down. 
God, she could see it clearly, pushing out his pants.  Maybe they could do
some hand to hand fighting next, some good old fashioned wrestling...

   "PAY ATTENTION!"

   She looked up, startled.  Piotr was standing before her, face furious,
wooden sword...  quivering right next to her head.  She winced.

   "Sorry."

   "You're the one who wants to do this."

   "I know, I know.  I do.  I like this.  Maybe we can just drill for a
bit? Please?"

   She saw him relax, take a deep breath.

   "Sure.  We can do that."

   Shanna took her own step back, eyes taking a look around the camp.  That
girl Anelie was still there, watching her and Piotr with wide eyed
amazement.  What the hell was going on there, she had no idea.  Nor did she
think she wanted to.  All she wanted to think about was Piotr.

   There was a tap on her sword.

   "Ready?"

   If she was going to focus on Piotr, now would be the time.  She looked
at him, raising her weapon.

   "Ready."

   "OK, first position."



   ****



   By the time Felek came over to get her for dinner, Shanna again was a
sweaty mass of aching muscles.  It felt wonderful.  Piotr, too, looked
incredible.  The guy almost seemed to glow with the results of the
training.

   "That was good," she told him, handing over her practice sword.  "Thank
you."

   "You definitely got into it.  You are getting better.  I think we may
want to start you with a shield.  Get your defenses up."

   "Whatever you think is best."

   She saw something pass across his face.  He hesitated...  then just
nodded.

   "I'm off to dinner."

   "Later."

   He had been about to say something.  Something in reaction to what she
had said?  What?  Oh, god, she knew what he could have said, what she would
have thought of saying if that line had been said to her!  Why couldn't he
say it?  They had been alone, somewhat, in the middle of the busy camp.  He
could tell her how he felt!

   "You are incredible!"

   Wrong person and gender.

   Anelie came up to her, face aglow.  Her red hair seemed to reflect the
last of the daylight, her hands moving so much Shanna reassessed her
apparent nationality to Italian.

   "I have never, never, seen a woman like you, Miss Shanna!  You're so
strong!  You held off his attacks so easily!  And when you spun, catching
him in the back?  My heart almost stopped!  You are so incredible!"

   "You already said that."

   "Please, Lady Shanna, let me serve you!  A good warrior needs a servant!
I'm smart, I'm a fast learner!  I can learn your language!  Please!"

   Shanna could smell food.  Wonderful food.  Her place was set next to
James, Ewa sitting on his other side.  Maybe they could offer some advice.

   "Look...  I'm hungry.  Go get yourself a plate.  We'll talk."

   "Thank you, Lady!"

   A full belly had better have this make more sense.



   ****



   James leaned his head in close to Shanna.  She kept her eyes on the
stranger eating nearby.

   "We need allies, Shanna.  People who are loyal to us.  I'm starting to
collect them, slowly, when I can.  You should as well."

   "But she's annoying."

   "She's offering service.  Accept it.  We can use her."

   Shanna looked at him.

   "What makes you think loyalty to me equals loyalty to you?"

   "I don't.  But, I think we can be loyal to each other."

   She looked back at the girl.

   "Maybe.  If she'll just be quiet..."



   ****



   "Oh, God, this is so exciting!  I can't wait to tell my brother!  If I
see him!  He might not be with the wagon anymore, you never know, they keep
moving the soldiers around.  Mom was so happy to see him!  I can't wait to
tell her!  She'll try to stop me, but she won't!  Nothing is going to stop
me!  So, I'll be waiting up the road tomorrow morning, with my things. 
Once you ride up, I'll be your servant!  Oh, God, I can't wait!"

   The girl ran off, silence returning to the world.  Shanna wasn't even
sure she had gotten half of that babbling, the language not even a factor.
If this did not work out, if the girl was just an annoying motormouth, she
was going to so stick James with the girl.  Make him suffer.

   Although, with her luck the redhead would end up in his bed and make him
even happier.

   Shanna began walking across the grass.  She didn't feel like being with
people right now.  After the teen, she wanted some silence.  Solitude. 
Feet bare, she made her way towards the river's edge.  She could hear
others farther up and down the bank, but there was silence here.  Just the
faint flow of the water, the sounds of nature.  She came to where she had
bathed.  Another swim was tempting, but for now she just sat, feet dangling
in the cool water.

   Her family had rented a cabin, up on some lake.  Her father and some of
his friends would fish, leaving the women and children behind much of the
day as they vanished with poles and a cooler of beer.  They would return,
eventually, with a cooler full of empty bottles, maybe a few fish.  Shanna
would spend much of the day just sitting on the bank, stick in hand,
playing in the mud.

   Dad...

   "Shanna?"

   Piotr sat down beside her.  She could feel the heat radiating from his
body, smell the sweat even an hour after their practice.  She had to be the
same.  They sat in silence.

   She wanted to say something.  Wanted him to say something.  Wanted the
silence.  They had never been silent together.  Never been together. 
Alone. She was alone with him.  God.  She was going to fuck it up.  No
matter what she did, she was going to fuck this up...

   "Tell me about your family."

   "What?" She looked at him in the evening darkness.  Felt his hot,
callused hand touch hers.  Felt tears in her eyes.

   "Tell me about your family, Shanna.  I...  We never talk.  About
important things.  I know you left people behind."

   "Did you?" She looked away, across the river.  His hand covered hers.

   "Mom is here.  Sis and her family are about a mile ahead of us.  I've
been lucky."

   "I'm never going to see Mom and Dad again.  Or Grandma Teller.  Or
Grandpa.  Never..." The tears came fast.  She was tired of holding it in.
Of being strong.  She didn't want to be strong.  She wanted her Mommy and
Daddy.  She wanted to be the little girl by the lake, watching her Daddy
come home.  Wanted him to pick her up, hold her, tell her he'd never leave
her...

   The arm around her was awkward.  Unsure.

   Sincere.

   Slowly, as the tears lessened, she told him.  Told him of her life.  Of
the life before this world.  Of who she was.

   He held her, never letting go.

   Chapter 10



   James turned the knob on the lamp, brightening the tent as the flame
grew.  It still seemed a waste to him, keeping the lamp lit all night,
flame low and shielded.  Still, he had to admit not having to fumble with
lighting the thing in the dark was a godsend.  He wasn't even sure if he
could, at this point, use the firelighters these people had.

   'These people'.  They were his people.

   "That's it, Marik.  Drink up!"

   Ewa sat in a well cushioned chair beside the bed, the baby feeding
happily from the ox horn full of milk.  James was getting used to these
late night feedings.  He suspected most Kings did not put up with such
things, tossing the royal brat into some nursery far away, with the mother,
bringing in another bed playmate for the duration.  Maybe that would be the
case with him, someday.  For now, though, the novelty of just spending the
night with a girl, the entire night and not just an hour or two stolen
while the house was empty, made such inconveniences not worthy of thought.
Besides, the kid was a quiet waker, and Ewa a light sleeper.  There was no
loud wailing to demand food, no screeching awakening him from deep sleep.
No, the baby started to fuss, and Ewa instantly awoke to tend to him. 
James could probably even slip back into sleep after the minor disturbance.

   He didn't.

   They were alone.  Truly alone.  The camp, apart from the two guards
outside the tent (and sentries farther out), was asleep.  They could talk
freely.

   Among other things.

   Placing the lamp on the royal desk, James bent down to a small wooden
chest on the grass floor, its outside charred.  It had appeared that
evening, Ola again sending sarcastic gratitude to all those who had
"rescued" royal belongings in the chaos of abandoning the Keep.  Why the
staff had not rescued more, given the value of all of this, he didn't know.
Knowing the late King, had something about his possessions...  well, maybe
they thought the stuff was cursed.  Or bad luck.

   His hand hesitated over the lid.

   "Captain Putaski talked to me today, James."

   James stood, turning to Ewa.  She was looking down at the baby, long
black hair, again loose, falling down over her bare breasts.  Beautiful. 
And...  wild.  Nude, with her hair like that, she seemed like a creature of
the forest.  He could picture her running through the trees, white skin
flashing as she passed behind the greens and browns of nature.  He loved
that look.

   "And what did our Captain want?" Bending down again, he picked up the
small chest, standing to place it on the desk beside the lamp.  Some of the
char came off on his hands.  Shaking his head, he wiped his hands together,
trying to get it off.

   "He...  wanted to make sure I understood my position."

   James turned to her again, frowning.  Ewa's voice was bitter.  It was
never bitter.  Even when talking about the other women in camp.  He quickly
went to her side, a hand touching her bare shoulder.

   "Your...  position?"

   "Yes."

   What in the world...  James suddenly understood.  He squeezed her soft
shoulder.

   "He's picking brides out for me."

   "The Captain," Ewa said, voice overtly formal, "reminded me that the
King must marry a girl from one of the major families.  That I am... 
entertainment, until court is re-established.  Any child I have will be a
bastard."

   "No he won't."

   "He will not be your son, or daughter.  They'll see to that."

   James closed his eyes.  The idea of even fathering a child with this
girl- and she was still a girl- terrified him.  You did not do that.  Yet,
neither could he not share his bed with her.  Not now, lack of birth
control be damned.  She made him feel...

   "And I don't care," Ewa said.  She trembled under his hand.  "I want to
bear your children.  I want to be with you.  Even...  even if..."

   "I love you." He did.  Or thought he did, and what was love, but how one
thought they felt?

   "I can't be Queen..."

   James knelt down, a hand going to her thigh.  Her legs parted without a
thought, as they had for him since that first night.  Ewa's eyes met his.
He smiled.

   "You are mine, Ewa.  Whatever name they will or won't call you, you are
mine.  Our children will know we love each other, love them.  Marik, too.
If I have any power at all as King, you will be by my side for as long as
you wish."

   "Forever," she whispered.

   "Forever."



   ****



   Shanna dipped her glasses in the river, swishing them around a bit. 
Stupid things.  They got so dirty.  And she always forgot she wore them. 
She'd be wondering why the world was no longer sharp and clear, then, Oh!
Dirty glasses!

   Mind you, not having them would be worse.  Seeing was a very good thing,
in her book.  What would she do if they broke?  And they would, someday. 
Glasses didn't last forever.  Heck, this was probably her fifth pair. 
She'd have to see if they could make them here.  Copy hers.

   At least she wasn't stuck with contacts.

   The camp was awakening behind her.  Shanna was tired.  Sleep had been...
slow in coming, restless and fitful when she had slipped into the land of
dreams.  She could not remember any of her dreams, just impressions of
confusion, anxiety.  Shanna did not need her unconscious mind to tell her
that.  What she saw and felt while awake covered those areas quite nicely.

   Drying her glasses on her shirt, she slipped them back into place.  The
world became clear, sharp.  Deceptively so.

   "You're awake early."

   Piotr's voice came from behind her.  She turned, smiling.  He smiled
back.  Something...  had happened last night.  Something magical.  They had
not even kissed, yet she felt more intimate with the young man than she had
with anyone ever before.  Kissing would come.  She knew it.

   "You too."

   "One of the joys of being a soldier." He was dressed in just pants, his
chest bare, muscular.  She noted his feet, too, were bare.  Before she
could stand, Piotr came over, sitting beside her on the grass.  "Did you
sleep well?"

   "No."

   He nodded.

   "I dreamed last night.  Of your home.  It...  WE came from there? 
Poland is there?"

   "A Poland is there.  I know little of it, other than the biggest war in
history started because Germany invaded it."

   "Did we win?"

   "Not at first, but all the good guy countries declared war on the evil
Germans and we beat them back."

   "Well, without us there, it's understandable Poland was under defended."

   Shanna could not help but raise an eyebrow at the grinning teen.  A
cocky guy, this one.

   "I'll let you think that."

   "Do you still want to train this morning?"

   "Yes.  Let's do it." She stood, enjoying the way his eyes took in her
graceful form.  "I feel like whacking something."



   ****



   The charred wooden box contained two books.

   James sat at the desk, lamp lit in the dim morning light.  Ewa still
dozed lightly on the bed, the blanket half covering her bare form.  Marik,
awake but not fussing, lay in James' lap, playing with the fingers of his
left hand.  The King had tossed on shorts, mostly as there would have been
something very wrong with putting the kid next to his bare wang.  James was
no pervert.

   The first book, small, leather bound, seemed to be a diary.  Who by, he
couldn't say, but obviously someone in the Royal household.  Perhaps even
his predecessor.  James would have to go through it, divine what secrets he
could.  The handwriting was horrid.  About, really, what you might expect
from someone no teacher had dared correct too harshly.  He was not
impressed.

   The other volume...  well, James had no idea what it was.  It was about
nine inches by six, two to three hundred pages held between battered, light
brown covers.  There was no title.  No author.  On the thin pages...  the
writing wasn't Polish, or English.  Or any other language James could
magically understand.  The letters looked almost English, but not, with
weird curved shapes and what looked like the number 8.  Almost every page
had illustrations, brown lines filled in with green, brown, blue.  Plants,
mostly, strange things he'd never seen.  Flipping through, he stopped at
one.  A tree, with a flower blooming from the top.  He knew that one.  They
had passed it, days ago, on the road.  Were these plants from this world?

   He flipped through.  Later pages added bad drawings of nude women, often
springing from plants.  One series of pages contained concentric circles of
nude women, holding stars, around fish, horses, scales.

   Well, it was no Kama Sutra.

   James felt there was something here.  The book had been next to the
diary.  Had been important enough to be kept in a, mostly, fireproof box,
and to be rescued.  Yet, it had been secret enough to NOT be rescued by
those taking charge after the King's death.  He wondered who had returned
it.  That would be someone to talk to.

   The tent flap opened.

   "Time to wake up, Your Grace." There was amusement in Felek's voice. 
James closed the book.

   "Can't I sleep another few minutes?  I am King."

   "I'm afraid not, Your Grace.  Breakfast will be served soon."

   "Ah, well." He motioned the boy over, lowering his voice.  "Put these
two books in among Ewa's clothing.  Wrap them well, hide them."

   "Yes Your Grace."

   James trusted Felek.  Trusted Ewa.  If he had an inner circle, it was
them.  If he was deposed, tossed from these people and left to fend for
himself in the wilderness of this world, those two he knew would follow him
into the unknown.  It would not be wise of them, but they would do it.

   Would he follow them, if they were exiled?

   A question for after breakfast.



   ****



   "And there she is."

   Shanna groaned as James motioned to the red haired girl standing on the
side of the road ahead of them.  She had hoped Anelie had forgotten about
this, that the girl was flighty enough to have a thousand of these ideas a
day with none lasting through a full nights sleep.

   But, no.

   She wore the same purple dress.  very renaissance fair (as were most
around her), with a green rope belt.  Her hair was braided, pulled tight,
falling down her chest.  These women must do nothing but braid each other's
hair.  She was playing with it as the horses approached.  Must be handy,
having a toy like that attached right to your head.  Shanna briefly
wondered if you could tie it into shapes, like balloon animals.  Her own
hair, short, curly, African, did not lend itself to such things.

   The girl looked up, her surprise at seeing them mounted obvious.

   "Oh!  Lady Shanna!" Her eyes went wide, blind with adoration.  Shanna
let out a small groan.  Piotr's chuckle echoing that of James.  Men.  She
hated them.  Anelie suddenly knelt, bowing her head.  "Your Grace!  I'm
sorry!  I didn't see you!  Oh, God, I didn't know Lady Shanna traveled with
you!  Please forgive me!"

   Now, the girl had eaten dinner not ten feet from the King the night
before.  Was she THAT much of an idiot?  Or was it just seeing him mounted,
surrounded by Winged Hussars, that finally triggered recognition?  Shanna
was in no mood to give her the benefit of the doubt this early.

   "You ate next to him last night.  We are informal, but that doesn't
excuse it."

   "I'm so sorry!  I didn't know that was the Royal Camp!  Forgive me!"

   "Oh," James said, bringing his mount to a stop beside the girl, "you are
forgiven.  But if you're going to serve, we expect better.  Blindly
following someone does not mean you have to be literally blind."

   OK, Shanna had to give him that line.  It was good.

   "Stand up," she said.  "We're holding everyone up."

   The girl jumped to her feet, tossing her braid over her shoulder and out
of the way.  She bent down, picked up a backpack, slipping her arms through
the straps.  Shanna had to admire her dexterity.  There was no awkwardness.
The pack looked heavy, too.  James started his mount forward, Anelie
quickly moving over to walk beside Shanna's horse.  Her mouth opened, but
Shanna spoke first.

   "We have to come to an understanding, girl.  Constant talking annoys me.
Do NOT babble." She looked down at her.  "Understand?"

   "Yes, Lady Shanna."



   ****



   "My brother and his friends came back to the camp last night, and they
couldn't BELIEVE I had met you!  They wanted to know where you were!  They
spent all night telling the story again about how you led them to that
burning raft, singlehandedly putting out that fire!  Some didn't even know
you were a girl!  I mean, can you believe that?  You're all girl!  All
woman!  I mean, anyone can see that, even in the dark!  Even with that dark
skin!  Where did you get skin like that?  It's amazing!  I've never heard
of people with dark skin!  Were you left in the sun as a baby?"

   James tried to tune it out, having had some experience back in school.
He had dated babbling girls.  One quickly learning how to preserve your
sanity while listening for key words and phrases.  He knew Shanna wasn't
getting half of what this redhead was saying, which could be a good or bad
thing.  Regardless, this girl was going to be slapped soon.  That was
obvious.  The only thing in doubt was who was going to do it.

   "Riders coming up behind us, Your Grace."

   James turned his head at Piotr's words.  Yup.  Riders coming up quickly.
He thought he recognized Captain Putaski.  For the Captain of the Royal
Guard, the man spent very little time in the Royal company.

   "Let's wait for them off the road, Lieutenant."

   "Yes, Your Grace." As one, the half dozen mounted guards took their
mounts onto the grass beside the dirt and gravel roadway.  James and Shanna
followed suit.  The look Shanna shot at Anelie as the girl began to follow
would frighten the loudest babies into total silence for a good week.

   The Captain looked annoyed.  Respectful, yet annoyed.  Commander
Kosciuszko, Piotr's father, was with him, the feathers on his armor's wings
freshly replaced.  The man nodded his head to his son.

   "Lieutenant."

   "Commander." There was a definite humor in both their voices.  James let
his mount take a step forward.

   "What can My Grace do you for you today, Captain?  Any news from the
rear guard?"

   "All is well, Your Grace," the Commander said, sitting tall in the
saddle.  Captain Putaski nodded in agreement.

   "Yes.  All is clear, as far as we have scouted."

   "Good.  I like good news."

   "As do we all, Your Grace." The Captain paused.  "Actually, I'm here
because there's been a small mistake.  I know people have been bringing you
items they...  rescued from the Keep, which as King it is your right to
take possession of once again.  However, it seems one of the items was
wrongly sent to the Royal Tent last night."

   "Oh?" That did not seem possible.  Besides, was not everything here,
technically, his?  They had shown James no Constitution or Magna Carta
limiting his power, so he assumed he had quite a bit (once he was more
secure, at least).

   "Yes.  A small chest, blackened by fire."

   James tried his best not to react the wrong way.  It had a royal diary.
How could it not, in all ways, belong to him?  He furrowed his brows,
wishing he had taken an acting class or two.

   "A...  oh!  That!  Haven't even opened it yet.  My hands got covered
with crap just lifting it."

   The relief on the Captain's face set James' mind seething.  So.  That
was the way this was.  Of all the...

   "It would have not mattered if you had opened it, Your Grace, although
the contents would not have interested you."

   "Well, you're welcome to it."

   "Thank you, Your Grace." The Captain motioned to one of the riders with
him.  The man rode off towards the Royal Wagons now down the road a ways.

   "No...  thank you."



   ****



   James watched the older officers ride back down the column, the burned
chest held by some poor Hussar.  He was furious.  At them.  At himself.  He
had accepted he was a figurehead.  Accepted being a powerless King, in
charge of just those, literally, within his line of sight.

   Well, his eyes had been opened.  It was time for him to see as far as he
could.

   "Men," James said, moving his mount a few paces forward, swinging around
to face his Winged Hussar guards.  "Who are you loyal to?"

   Piotr looked at him hard for a moment, his men behind him exchanging
confused, worried glances.  He leaned forward in the saddle, arms resting
on the pommel.

   "I am loyal to you, Your Grace."

   "I too, Your Grace."

   "And I."

   They all followed Piotr's lead.  James looked each in the eye.

   "And if I give an order that Captain Putaski, or another...  'corrects',
whose orders do you follow?"

   "Yours, Your Grace." Piotr sat up straight, drawing his sword.  "We are
YOUR Royal Hussars.  We pledge ourselves and our steel to you." Five other
swords were drawn.  James nodded.

   "Even if the order comes from your father?"

   A momentary wavering in the young man's face.  He straightened even
more.

   "We follow YOU, Your Grace."

   "Good.  Now, let's get back to the column."

   Shanna looked at him as the Hussars formed up around them.  She let out
a sigh.

   "You emptied the chest, didn't you?"

   "Yes.  I want you to look at it in camp tonight."

   "OK." Her heels kicked into the side of her mount.  "You realize, now I
can't kill Anelie."

   "I know, and I'm sorry."

   "I know you are." Her eyes met his as the they closed on their appointed
place in the march.  "But, I'm with you anyway."

   Chapter 11



   The rain gods were displeased.

   Or maybe they WERE pleased.  Rain could be how they showed their
happiness, showering, so to speak, worshipers with their blessing.  Shanna
wasn't up on the theology of this world.  Sufficed to say, the humans
weren't enjoying this blessing from above.

   The column trudged forward, wooden wheels and shod and unshod feet
struggling down the mud and stone road.  The stones did make things better,
Shanna for the first time approving of the actual work put into the
construction of the roadway.  Most of the water drained off, running down
into the green grass on either side.  Still, it pooled in ruts and
depressions, as well as falling on and soaking already exhausted Poles.

   All in all, a shitty day.

   They were walking their mounts again, resting the poor beasts.  In a
way, Shanna preferred walking at that moment.  Being down between the
horses and the wagons offered some small shelter from the elements, much
more than being mounted.  She also, well, felt less guilty.  Her feet
trudged through puddles alongside all the others.  No special treatment for
her.

   James, too, walked.  She liked that about him.  A rain poncho of some
sort had appeared out of the aether, or the Royal Wagon, as soon as
sprinkles had begun to fall.  He gave it to Ewa, the girl holding the baby
under its semi-waterproof protection.  When her turn came to ride in the
wagon, under its canvas top, he gave it to another woman with a child.  The
look in that woman's eyes, in the eyes of all around them, said all.

   Would she have done the same?  Possibly.  Shanna was awesome, after all.

   "Lady Shanna?"

   Shanna let out a quiet sigh.  The girl Anelie had improved as the day
went on, as she came to understand her constant stream of consciousness
conversation truly did annoy the woman she wanted to impress.  So, too,
Shanna had gotten used to the red haired girl.  After a day on the road,
the person beside you became someone who had always been a part of your
life.  There had been quiet for the past mile, so she accepted that
conversation was not now an unreasonable thing.

   "What?"

   "Do you know any songs?"

   "Songs?" That had been a random question.  She looked at the girl beside
her.  Her braid looked like a shipboard rope, water soaked and heavy.  Her
shoulders slumped under the weight of her pack.  At camp, Shanna would have
to go through it, see what could be divided among the others for the next
day's travel.  There was no reason for the teen to kill herself trying to
impress.

   "Yeah, a song.  A song from your world.  I love songs.  I always sing
them when I'm walking alone, and we've sung them before as we walked."
Shanna had heard singing, from ahead and behind, and from other camps. 
This group was a bit uptight in that regard.  Maybe a song would help.

   Her eyes went to the river, now swollen, still flowing parallel to the
road.

   "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.  Merrily, merrily,
merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.  Row, row, row your boat..."

   "Row, row, row your boat..." James' deeper voice came in, unexpectedly
fitting well with her softer tones.  Shanna wondered what the others were
hearing, English, or Polish?  She didn't think the song would work in that
language.  Rhymes never translated.

   "Row...  row..." Anelie's voice, uncertain, joined in at just the right
place.  Shanna smiled at the girl.  Encouraged, her voice strengthened,
pronunciation improved.  A fourth joined them.  Male.  Piotr.

   Shanna felt tears on her cheeks.  Imagine.  Crying over "Row Your Boat".
She was pitiful.

   Maybe they could do "Go Tell Aunt Rhody" next.  She always cried during
that one.



   ****



   "Yankee Doodle keep it up, Yankee Doodle dandy, mind the music and the
step, and with the girls be handy!"

   Shanna was cold, soaked, and tired, yet happy.  Singing did sooth the
grumpy woman.  The King's hands before her signaled the end of the song,
cheers erupting around them.  The people, too, where cheerful.  Which made
sense, as they had to be full of cheer for cheers to be able to erupt out
of them, and oh, god, was she cold and tired.  She wanted to stop.  Why
couldn't they stop...

   "Make camp!  Make camp!" The rider tore down the side of the road
towards them, seeming to understand the people were too tired to move out
of the way on the road proper.  A wave of cheering, muted as it was,
followed him, passing over Shanna and the King's party as he passed.

   "Thank God," she moaned.  Anelie let out a similar moan beside her.

   "This is the worst day ever."

   "And it's not over yet." Shanna moved her mount off the road, giving the
wagons more room as they began to maneuver off onto the wet grass. 
"Please, Jesus in heaven above, don't let any wagons get stuck.  I don't
want to have to push them now..."

   "Why would you have to?" Anelie's face looked confused through the
suddenly heavier downpour.  "You're with the King!  Important!"

   "So?" She was too tired to offer a better rebuttal than that.  Let the
girl think about it for awhile.  She looked around as Piotr led the Hussar
guard off.  It took a few moments for Shanna to locate James.  He was with
his unmounted guards, the men as always suddenly there when it was their
turn to shield their King.  The men were at attention, James serious as he
talked.

   She frowned.  He was demanding loyalty, most likely.  What would he do,
if one refused?  Even the knowledge that James was doing this could have
horrible repercussions.  Imagine if the US President asked those around him
to follow him, ignoring the law and Constitution if his orders defied
those? That was grounds for impeachment, it was.  Here, she suspected
unwanted Kings were not left around to cause trouble.  That said, she
agreed with what he was doing.  A King NEEDED a loyal core.  A buffer
between himself, and those whose loyalty might be to some other noble, or
general.

   Or Captain.



   ****



   "So, this is our mystery book."

   Shanna dried her hands some more on the towel, the rest of her nowhere
near dry as she sat in the desk chair.  She could still smell the sweet,
warm scent of their evening dinner, now cooking outside the tent under
mostly rainproof tarps.  She needed food, rest, warmth.  However, now was
the time she and James had a moment alone, the rest of the camp busy
working to provide those needs.  The last rope had barely been tied, the
tent's contents just hurried in, when he had ordered everyone out except
her.

   If this wasn't important, she was going to be very annoyed.

   His own hands freshly dried, James opened the book on the desk before
her.  He said nothing, wanting her untainted opinion.  Leaning forward, she
looked at the first page.

   Shanna frowned.

   "You're fucking me."

   "That's probably what they think we're doing," James replied with a
chuckle.

   "No, I mean..." Reaching out, she flipped the page.  She couldn't be
seeing...

   "What is it?" he asked.

   "I KNOW this book!" She looked up at him.  The black haired King looked
at her with open disbelief.  He frowned.

   "Seriously?"

   "Seriously!  You've never seen it?"

   "No." He flipped a few more pages.  "What the hell is it?"

   "It's...  give me a moment." Her eyes closed.  Shanna knew the name of
the thing, but had never heard it pronounced.  Voy...  Voy something... 
"Ah!" Her eyes opened, looking back up at James.  "It's the Voynich
Manuscript!"

   "Voynich..."

   "Yup!  I'm sure of it!" She grabbed a hundred of the pages, flipping
through them.  She stopped on a page of text, illustrations of nude women
in water tubs grown from plants on the top and sides of the page.  "I've
looked through it before.  It's famous."

   "Never heard of it."

   "Uneducated heathen." Almost reverently, she touched the page.  "It's a
mystery book."

   "Obviously."

   "No, I mean, in our world nobody knows what it is.  It turned up in some
bookstore a century or so ago, and is around five hundred years old. 
Nobody can read it, nobody knows what language it is, or even if it is a
language.  It could be a code, or just gibberish.  It could be a magic
book, written by or for someone like John Dee, or it could be a hoax
someone made up to sell to someone like that.  Nobody knows!"

   "But it's here."

   "Yeah!  Well, probably not the same one.  Another copy.  Just because
the one on Earth is five hundred years old doesn't mean it wasn't copied
from an older version.  Wow."

   "But what is it?"

   "I just said, we don't know."

   "SOMEONE here knows."

   That was right.  The book was real.  Not a hoax.  It had meaning.

   "There are recipes in it," she told him, flipping through to show him.
"At least, they could be.  And astronomical charts.  And the plants."

   "A few I've seen on our travels."

   "Yeah.  Now that I see this book, I realize that's where I'd seen them
before.  Not many, but some."

   "So...  the book is from some other part of this world, where those
plants grow."

   "Could be."

   "Could it be Elvish?"

   "Hmm..." Her first instinct was to say 'no', but that was based on her
experience with the Elves of human literature.  This wasn't Elvish as
Tolkien had portrayed them.  But, then, neither were the creatures who had
attacked her that first day those elves either.  The use of the name did
not mean anything had to be in common between them, apart from, maybe,
pointy ears.

   "It could explain," he went on, "the 'why' of this war.  Maybe they're
after the book."

   "Then they would have kept attacking."

   "Unless they think it was destroyed.  That chest was burned badly.  Blow
up the King's chambers, then attack to make sure the thing is gone?" Before
she could even answer, James was shaking his head.  "No.  You're right. 
That doesn't make sense.  This may be part of it, but..."

   "What about the other book?" She reached over for the small leather
bound volume.  Opening it, she cursed.  "Fuck.  It's in Polish, isn't it?"

   "I guess so, if you can't read it.  I assumed t wasn't in English.  It's
badly written, whatever it is."

   "A child's handwriting," she agreed.  He laughed.

   "I assumed a King who ignored his teachers, but, yeah, a kid could be
the answer.  I haven't read it."

   Shanna handed it up to him.

   "Do it.  While we have time."

   Shrugging, he took it, flipping it to the first page.  Shanna looked
back down at the Voynich Manuscript, pushing her glasses back up as they
slid down a still wet nose.  James cleared his throat.

   "Today." He laughed.  "OK, I like this kid already.  They dated each
entry 'Today'."

   "Very helpful," she agreed.  "Go on.  Dinner will be soon."

   "Krzysztof told me I am not allowed to tell anyone what I see, or tell
anyone what I hear.  I can not even tell Mother, if I see Father with the
vanishing woman.  I want to tell Mother, but Krzysztof says God and Father
will not like that.  He said I could instead write down what I see and
hear, and God and Jesus will read it.  Mother Mary will read it, too, and
Mother Mary will then tell Mother if Mother should hear it.  I like that
idea.  Krzysztof is smart, even if he does hit me sometimes.  Krzysztof
gave me a book to write in, told me where to hide it so nobody would find
it.  I think Krzysztof wants to read the book.  I don't want him to.  I
wrote in the book, and put it there, but I then went and bought THIS book.
I'm hiding it in a small chest in my room under my bed.  Nobody knows it's
there.  God, this is the book you should be reading, not the other one. 
Even if that book says it's the real one, ignore it.  This is the real one.
I promise."

   "Damn," Shanna said.  He nodded, flipping the page.

   "Yeah.  There's a lot to unpack in here." He flipped a few more pages.

   "Today.  I saw the woman go into Father's room after Mother left.  She's
green.  I didn't know women could be green.  She was pretty.  Very pretty.
I do not know how she got into our chambers.  She did not see me.  I saw
her go into the bedroom where Father was, and close the door.  I went to my
room to read.  I have a book on all the people, and I read that.  The green
people are the Elves.  Is the woman an Elf?  I did not know Elves were
pretty.  The woman was not there when Father came out for dinner.  Maybe I
dreamed her.

   "Today.  Mother told me about Elves.  I asked her, and she told me Elves
are evil ugly creatures who hate Jesus.  Maybe that is why Jesus has not
told her about what is in my book, because she would not like to know about
the pretty Elf?  After dinner I heard her tell Father that all Elf women
are horrible ugly bitch whores.  I asked Krzysztof what a bitch whore was.
He said a whore was a woman who would do fun things.  Maybe I can marry a
whore someday!

   "Today.  Father had a meeting with all his officers today.  Krzysztof
and I were in the room, too, so we could learn.  They told Father that the
Elves are causing trouble.  They will not let us pass through their land.
Father said that is because we charge ships to pass through our city, and
the Elves do not like that.  The army wants to attack the elves.  Father
does not want to, but does not want to stop charging ships as money is good
to have.  The army is angry.  They yelled.

   "Today.  Krzysztof hit me.  I hate him.

   "Today.  I saw her again!  The pretty green woman!  I was in the hall
outside Mother and Father's room, and she suddenly appeared!  It was like
magic!  She has round black eyes, with white dots in the middle, and long
red hair!  So very pretty!  She saw me, and asked my name.  I said my name
was Kostek, and she said that was a wonderful name.  She said I was very
handsome, and maybe someday her daughter could marry me!  I was so happy, I
ran away!  To marry a girl who looked like her!

   "Today.  Mother hit Father.  Father hit Mother.  They yelled.  I hid in
my room.  Krzysztof told me I was a baby.  I do not like it when they yell.

   "Today.  I went with Father and Krzysztof out of the city.  We went with
our guards to the woods.  It was exciting.  Father told us the world is a
wonderful place, and all the people in it are good.  Even those who
everyone says are evil.  He told Krzysztof that when he is King, my brother
will have to be friends with the leaders of all the people.  If you are
friends, you do not go to war, and war is bad.  I nodded, but brother asked
if that meant we were not going to fight the Elves, as everyone is saying
they are hurting our people and we should fight them.  Father said that we
can not fight them.  We would lose if we fought them.  I looked at the
Captain.  He was mad.  Why was he mad?  We went back home.

   "Today.  Captain Putaski argued with Father.  I saw them in the Throne
Room.  A village had been attacked!  The Captain wanted to fight the Elves
who did it.  Father said no.  Father was mad.  I think we should attack.  I
dreamed of houses burning, of children crying.  I woke up crying.

   "Tonight.  Someone woke me.  It was the beautiful Elf woman.  She was
next to my bed.  She told me she needed me to hide something.  I said I had
a secret spot nobody knew about.  She asked me where it was, but I did not
tell her because it was a secret.  She smiled, and said that was a test and
that I was a good boy for keeping it a secret!  My face got red!  She gave
me a book, told me to hide it.  She said it was a magic book that nobody
should read, and I was not to open it.  She made me promise.  I promised.
The pretty woman then kissed me on the forehead!  She kissed me!  I
promised to hide the book and never tell anyone!  She kissed me again, then
vanished!  She said some words, and vanished!  Wow!  Magic!  I hid the book
here next to this diary.  Now, God, I promised that nobody would read it,
so please do not read it, or let your Son or Wife read it.  I promised. 
Thank you.  Don't tell Mom, either."

   James paused.  Shanna put a hand to her forehead.

   "God.  That's..."

   "Fucked up.  That's what it is.  The King sleeping with some Elf woman?
Worse than any intern blow job."

   "Hell yes.  Oh, God, what if that was the Elf Queen or someone like
that? Can you imagine?  Countries on the verge of war, and the two leaders
are banging like horny rabbits!  Not good!" She shook her head.  "Keep
reading."

   "That's it."

   "What?"

   James showed the book to her.  The rest of the pages were blank.

   "I think we know what happened next."

   "We do?" He nodded.  It took a moment, but Shanna realized what he
meant.

   The fire.  The death of the Royal Family.  She closed her eyes.

   "God.  That poor kid."

   "Yeah.  He sounded like a good kid.  The King, too.  The stories you
hear are all bad, but he obviously had a good side."

   "Or at least a less evil one.  God.  This just gives us more questions."

   "At least they're different ones.  Nothing worse than trying to answer
the wrong questions." He took both books, carrying them over to their
hiding place among Ewa's clothing.  "Go out, tell them I'll be there in a
moment."

   "Right." Standing, she paused.  "What are we going to do about the
Captain?"

   "Don't know.  Assuming he had nothing to do with the fire, it's not like
he was wrong about anything.  He might not even have known what was in the
chest, just that he wanted to get first crack at anything like that.  Just
in case." He stood.  "Well, now that I'm done, we can go out together. 
Should we pretend we WERE just fucking, to mess with them?"

   She regarded his grinning face for a long moment, hand going to the hilt
of her sword.

   "As if you're up to my standards."

   Chapter 12



   Shanna was beginning to lose track of time.

   She sat on the bank of the river, ground rising behind her to cut off
all sights and most sounds of the distant wagon camps.  The night sky was
clear, stars shining down.  So, too, lights from across the river blinked
at her.  Buildings hugged the far bank, square windows looking across the
dark flowing water.

   Windows.  Buildings.  People.  Yet, not people.  Not humans.  Whoever
lived over there, they were not human.  They were...  well, she didn't
know. Apart from the Elven soldier she had met that first morning in this
world, she had only known these Polish exiles.  The world they lived in,
beyond this endless road, was still a mystery.  Might, in fact, not exist.
Might...

   "Hiding again, I see."

   Piotr's voice brought Shanna back to reality, or at least the fantasy
she currently called home.  She leaned back, hands on the ground behind
her, breasts displayed through her thin shirt in a way quite natural and
accidental.  She kept her eyes across the river.

   "I hate those meetings."

   "Same here." Piotr sat down beside her.  He copied her pose, left hand
almost touching her right.  She could sense that without even looking.  She
felt herself relax even more, even as her heart beat faster.

   "You don't sit with your father at these?"

   "No.  We said hello, talked a bit before they got going.  I'm too low to
be officially invited into the circle, although if the King needed me I'd
stand behind him."

   She nodded.

   "Same here.  If James wants me to sit there looking all foreign and
dangerous, I'll do it, but listening to those merchants and nobles just
gives me a headache.  The officers aren't much better."

   "Yeah.  I'm a fighter, not a talker."

   Shanna turned to the young man, eyebrow arching.  He was looking at her
in ways she quite liked.

   "We have a saying," she said, "in my world, about how some people are
fighters, not lovers."

   "Really." Piotr seemed suddenly closer, although she did not think he
had moved.  "Well, I can honestly say I'm both."

   "Oh?"

   "You doubt me?"

   "Prove it."

   Her lips met his half way, her eyes closed.  Yes.  God, yes... 
finally...  Shanna felt her body lowering itself on to the hillside, grass
tickling the gap between her shirt and pants.  She sensed Piotr's male, so
very male, body rise over her, legs straddling her thighs.  That wasn't
going to work.  Hands grabbing his arms, she rolled them over, his muffled
cry of surprise ignored.  Breaking the kiss, she raised her head, legs now
straddling his crotch as her hands held his to the ground.

   Much better.

   "You need to work on your defenses." Her voice was low, throaty.  She
could feel his manhood pressing up, its natural home only a few layers of
clothing away.  His eyes...  even in the starlight, she found herself lost
in those blue eyes.  The boy licked his lips.

   "I...  I have no defense against you."

   God.  Shanna lowered herself, hands releasing his, moving to caress his
chest, his face.  She pressed her forehead to his, their noses touching.

   "I love you," she whispered.  His entire body trembled under her.  She
wondered if he was virgin, or had only taken whores.  Well.  She would
teach him.  Teach him how equals make love, if...

   "Oh, God above...  I love you, Shanna..."

   The magic words.

   Let the lovemaking begin.



   ****



   James hated these meetings.

   The main problem, for him, was that he had to listen to people who
should stay silent.  Had to quietly listen to self-important pricks go on
and on about some problem already solved, minor nobles or merchants who
wanted to make sure all knew they were still there and powerful.  Speeches
masquerading as questions, questions masquerading as thinly veiled threats.
It was stupid.  It was pointless.

   It was, in effect, this culture's closest thing to democracy.

   He rotated his shoulder, getting a kink out.  This gathering was the
largest yet.  Every unit commander.  Every merchant family head, every
noble, every guild master.  All gathered, with their seconds, around the
fire.  All gazing at him.  Wondering how he could be used.  Manipulated. 
Or worshiped.  There were a few of those among them, mostly people he
really did not want to associate with.  They could be allies, though. 
Politics, bedfellows, etc.  James would not piss anyone off.

   Unless they were fucking idiots.

   Deciding it was time, he stood, hands up.

   "I think, Gentlemen, we should start with a prayer."

   They stood, quieting, heads bowed.  Brother Ofim stepped forward.

   "Our Father and Mother, who are in heaven..."

   It was the little things that still threw James off.  The parts of this
world almost like his own he had the hardest time accepting.  Would he ever
not keep mentally defaulting to his version of the Lord's Prayer?  It would
have been easier if they had worshiped a tree or something, although given
the current situation that probably would have led to all sorts of
religious turmoil.  At least they weren't practicing something like child
sacrifice.

   That he had noticed.

   "...In the name of the Father, the Mother, and the Son.  Amen."

   "Amen."

   James sat, the others following suit.  Captain Putaski was not at his
side, for which he was glad.  He liked the man, but...

   "So.  What is the point of this meeting?" One of the nobles spoke up
from across the fire.  James could not remember his name.  He had
daughters, though.  He knew that.  Every man here with daughters had
mentioned the fact.  Several times.  With long descriptions, and
invitations to visit their encampment.  He had resisted so far, although a
part of him was curious as to how a Polish "Princess" tried to capture a
King.  It could be...  fun.

   Captain Putaski stood from his seat among his fellow officers.

   "We are here, Noble Sir, to decide on how to conduct the final phase of
this migration."

   "We still have time," a voice said.  The Captain smiled.

   "Yes, but soon we won't.  We all want to get across and settled before
winter.  Before late summer, even.  It is time to plan."

   Much of the planning, naturally, had already been done.  James had even
been there for some of it.  So much of this was theater.

   "So what are we doing?" This came from the head of the weaving guild. 
The army engineer Tadeusz stood, papers in hand.

   "What I would like to do, if it has the support of everyone here, is a
repeat of His Grace's plan for the river crossing." The man nodded to
James. Of all the older officers, James seemed to get along with him the
best.  "If we push ahead with a large advance force of solders, engineers,
and laborers, I think we can get to the coast a good week before the
wagons. That will give us time to find a small inlet to use as a harbor,
build our fortifications.  Sturdier, this time, as who knows how long we'll
be there.  Start on the ships."

   "How long for those?"

   "Can't say.  I have designs, and we'll probably try several.  See what's
easiest to build, sturdiest.  We may very well just push small groups
across to start working on homes as soon as we have something that floats."

   "What about those on the island?"

   James looked over at the Captain.  Nothing had been said about the large
island being inhabited.  He wasn't surprised, though.  A place like that
would be a perfect place for a fishing village, or even a pirate hideout.
If they were only talking a hundred or so people...  well, it wasn't like
the Poles could go someplace else.  Everything was riding on getting these
families across to safety.  And it WOULD be safe for them, one way or
another...

   "As far as we know," the Captain said, "it's just a few fishermen. 
Kikker.  We have no quarrel with them.  I will lead a group across to... 
negotiate."

   Did James trust him to do that?  Would whatever the Captain did be, in
the long run, best for the people, regardless of the King's moral take on
his actions?  This was a different world, after all.  A critical situation.
Well, there was time, still, to worry about all that.  Another man stood,
clothing plainer than most.

   "When can we get crops in?  It's late, yes, but there are late summer
crops we can still plant that will help make up for everything we left in
the fields.  The winter will be lean, but if we can get something in the
ground we won't starve."

   James leaned forward.  He could take this one.

   "The plan, as Tadeusz and I have discussed, is to build a permanent
settlement where we camp before the crossing.  Our foothold on the
mainland. If there's suitable land nearby, put your crops in.  We will set
defenses around it.  Now, we may lose everything you put in, so I'll leave
that choice up to you, but if the choice is that or starving, well, I don't
like starving."

   The farmer nodded, sitting back down.  The Captain looked like he was
about to speak again.  James stood.

   "As long as we are all gathered, I would like to speak to you." The look
on Captain Putaski's face was worth it, even if it did result in a dagger
in his back at some point.  Piotr's father, winged armor sparkling in the
firelight, regarded him with interest.  He nodded to the Commander.

   "We are coming to the end of our journey.  To the end of the crisis. 
Once we cross that water to our new home, we start again.  Rebuild.  Create
our new society.  The question is, do we recreate Nowy Kiev, as it was, or
do we take this opportunity to start over?"

   There were many frowns, mostly among the well bred nobles, but officers
as well.  He took note of those who leaned forward with interest.

   "I am your King, appointed by a magical device.  Uncrowned, true, and I
won't blame you if you consult it again before placing the golden crown on
my head.  Hell, I may request it myself to see if I can somehow get out of
this." There were chuckles.  He clenched his hands.  James wished he had
something to hold, like a staff, or a sword he could plant in the ground
and lean on.  Or, hell, a podium.  Podiums were invented for a reason. 
"Once I am on a throne, in a keep, we will have the return of Order.  Of
Law.  But...  the world I am from is not yours.  My laws, taught to me by
God and family, are not yours.  As we have traveled, I have stayed back. 
Let you do as you will, not knowing your ways.  Let you rule yourselves."

   His gaze went in the direction of the Captain.

   "That is going to change."



   ****



   Shanna lay on her back, eyes on the stars.

   She felt complete.

   Shanna had loved often.  Found herself enthralled with some boy,
throwing herself into his life, hoping the two would become one.  Wanting
two souls to merge, as their bodies intertwined, making all right with the
universe.

   Tonight...

   He stirred beside her.  She turned on her side, dark skin sliding
against light.  Silently, she snuggled against Piotr, leg hooking around
his, hand playing with the faint wisps of hair on his chest.  His eyes were
still closed.

   "Are you alive?" she asked.  He shook his head.

   "No."

   "Well, I'm not sure I want to be with a dead man."

   "You shouldn't have killed me, then." Shanna felt his arms move, going
around her.  She snuggled in closer.  Her own eyes closed.

   "How is it, among your people?"

   "Hmm?" His fingers began tracing shapes on her back.  She shuddered.

   "Between men and women.  What are we, now?  What am I, to you?"

   Rough fingers touched her cheek.  Shanna's eyes opened, his own inches
away.  Again she lost herself in them.

   "Will you marry me, Shanna, daughter of Dion?"

   "Marry?"

   He rolled her over on her back, lean body over hers, face serious as it
stared down.

   "Marry me.  I'm a minor Lieutenant of a half dozen mounted guards.  My
father commands all the Winged Hussars.  I may too, some day.  My family is
old, strong..."

   She raided a hand, fingers touching his lips.

   "None of that matters," she whispered.  "All that matters is you." Her
eyes closed.  "I've only known you...  two weeks?"

   "A lifetime."

   Yes.  It was a lifetime.  Already, she could not remember when he was
not at her side.

   "I won't stay home," she said.  "I won't spend my day cooking and
sewing. I am not like these women."

   "Good."

   Her eyes opened again.

   "You're changing half the diapers."

   "We can duel over that." He grinned down at her.  She could not help but
match it.  His face became serious again.  "Will you be my wife?"

   Wife.  To marry at eighteen.  To have a husband.  A home.  Children. 
His children...

   "Yes..."



   ****



   "You play a dangerous game."

   James nodded amiably to Piotr's father, watching those assembled break
up into small groups, all conspiring against him most likely.  His guards,
Duda and Nowak, seemed to be staying unusually alert.

   "If I'm going to be deposed, best to get it over with quickly.  I didn't
ask for this, after all."

   "Oh, I doubt it will come to that.  You have supporters."

   "Your son, for one."

   The man regarded him for a long moment.  James had not meant that to
sound like some sort of threat, or challenge.  Politics was still new to
him.  Eventually, the man nodded.

   "My son is young.  His loyalty is, not easily given, but sometimes not
thought through.  However, I respect his choices."

   "But do you respect mine?"

   "You are my King."

   That did not answer the question.

   "Your Grace." Captain Lech Watesa came up to them, the engineer Tadeusz
Kosciuszko with him.  James nodded to them.

   "What can I do for you, Sirs?"

   Lech gave Commander Kosciuszko a quick look, not long enough to
insinuate anything, but enough to make certain things clear.  Tadeusz
ignored him.

   "Your Grace, we plan on sending scouts out tonight towards the coast. 
Break the trail we'll be traveling once we leave the road.  We-" he glanced
at Lech.  "We were wondering if the Royal party would be willing to travel
with our main body, leaving tomorrow night."

   James blinked.  He could feel the Commander straighten next to him. 
Tadeusz quickly went on.

   "We just feel, Your Grace, that you should set up court at the new fort
as soon as possible.  Our people will be living there for a month, possibly
longer, and it will be the first settlement of our new nation."

   James was impressed with their justification.  He could almost believe
it.  The Commander, though, scoffed.

   "His Grace belongs with his people."

   "The only ones who see him are those a hundred feet in front and behind
him, Andrzej.  He will not be missed."

   "It is a poor King who is not missed by his people."

   "I am a poor King," James said, happily.  "That's what I have to work
on. Let me give it some thought, Tadeusz.  Send a rider to me about noon,
I'll know by then."

   "Yes, Your Grace." The two men gave short bows before leaving.  James
gave a sigh.

   "I trust everyone here, Commander, but a change of scenery will probably
do me good.  And I do want to see more of this world than this road."

   "Don't we all, Your Grace."

   "True." He looked over at a group of nobles moving towards him.  "Plus,
this will make it harder for them to throw daughters at me."



   ****



   Shanna walked up the embankment, hand holding Piotr's.  That nobody had
disturbed them was a miracle.  Never had she made love out in the open,
where anyone could see.  Never had she done it with people so close, who
could hear...

   As they reached the top of the embankment, they saw Anelie sitting in
the grass.  Waiting.

   Shanna could not decide if she should be embarrassed as hell, or
furious. The girl rose as they came into view, movement slow, deliberate.
Her face was...  blank.

   "What is it, Anelie?" Shanna asked.  She let go of Piotr's hand to make
sure her shirt was on right, everything covered that should be.  She could
feel the blush from the boy.  He definitely had only been with unloving
whores before, practically a virgin.

   "His Grace would like to see you in his tent after the meeting is over,
Lady Shanna.  Lieutenant Piotr as well." The teen's voice had little
emotion.  Shanna just nodded.

   "Thanks." Movement behind Anelie caught her eye, people streaming from
the gap in the wagon circle.  "Looks like our timing was good.  Come on,
Piotr, let's go." She resisted the desire to take his hand again as they
passed the girl.  No need to make things too public.



   ****



   "Good, you're here." James smiled as Shanna and her sparring partner
entered the tent.  He had hoped the girl wouldn't have a hard time finding
them.  They had probably been banging each other with sticks or something.

   "So what's up?" Shanna moved over to one of the wooden chests, plopping
down on it.  Piotr stood by her side.  Ola, at the desk rose.

   "I shall give you privacy, Your Grace."

   "No, stay." James motioned him to sit back down.  The man did so,
turning the chair so it faced the King.  Ewa sat on the grass floor,
changing the baby as she half paid attention.  The two ten-year-olds Felek
and Ruta kept playing chess on the dinner table.  They knew what was
important.

   "I'm giving you all the heads up.  Tomorrow, we're leaving the column."

   Ola's reaction was the most interesting.  He stood, shocked.

   "Your Grace!  Why?"

   "We're going to travel with the Engineering division, as well as about a
thousand troops, ahead to the sea.  We'll set up our first real court
there, and await the rest of our fellow Poles."

   "I take it the meeting was interesting, then," Shanna said, dryly. 
James smiled back, nodding.

   "Very.  This is half precaution, half good excuse to have a change of
scenery.  Ola, when you pack everything tomorrow morning I want both wagons
light, with room for all of us to ride.  Feel free to transfer extra royal
crap to one of the other wagons we'll be leaving in the column.  Only staff
you feel we absolutely need are to accompany us."

   He saw the man start to speak, hesitate.  James let out a small sigh.

   "If you can personally vouch for your companion, Ola, he can come.  I'd
rather keep our party small, though."

   The thirty something year old man blushed, eyes not meeting his.  Piotr
seemed confused about the implications of this, something James would have
to trust the smirking Shanna to explain later.  There wasn't time for that.

   Ola let out a soft sigh, nodding to James.

   "Thank you, Your Grace.  I believe I will part ways with him.  He... 
well, it was entertainment." His eyes slid over to Ewa, before quickly
darting away.  He bowed again, as if in apology.

   As well he should.

   "Am I coming?" Ruta looked up from the chess board.  Felek did as well,
eyes seeming to plead for the answer to be 'yes'.  James chuckled.

   "Of course.  You don't think I want to get my own dinner, do you?  I
don't think we could survive without you." She blushed at that, head
ducking down.  "But," he added, catching the looks both Ewa and Shanna were
giving him, "would you mind if we left your mother behind?  We only have
room for so many cooks..."

   "Sure," she said, seemingly unconcerned.  She reached out to move a
pawn. "Mom can be annoying."

   Chapter 13



   The wagons were making good time.

   James grabbed on to something, its exact function unknown in the dim
wagon interior, as the wheels went in and out of a rut in the road.  Speed
had been unknown in his time on this world before now.  The convoy of
refugees had traveled as slow as the slowest beast of burden, luckily not
much faster than a tired human could walk.  Now, freed from that restraint,
the wagon practically flew down the road.  The extra two horses added to
the teams pulling them, and the decision to spread the load over three
wagons, helped.  They had passed the head of the column an hour ago, other
wagons falling in with them.  They would stop soon, camping for the night,
before getting an early start in the morning.  Until then...

   "My butt hurts."

   Shanna's complaint did not bring any sympathy from those around them. 
Everyone else in the wagon, the kids, Ewa, Ola, Anelie, had spent the
entire exodus either walking or in wagons like this.  That her delicate ass
preferred to be on a horse was not their problem.

   James kept silent, thus, he figured, elevating him in their eyes.

   His gaze went out the back of the wagon.  Riders surrounded them, winged
and un-winged.  Piotr and his men had been joined by fifty Hussars, fanning
out on the non-river side of the road.  Once they broke away from it,
heading cross country to avoid towns and cities, both sides would have to
be patrolled.  Having a barrier like the river was incredibly comforting.
He'd be sorry to part company with the waterway.

   He saw Shanna looking at Ola in a way that indicated conversation was in
the offing.  With Anelie being surprisingly silent, talk had been minimal.
Well, it was boring now, with no sleep possible until camp was set up.  She
leaned forward, one hand holding the wooden support strut behind her.

   "Ola...  you didn't have to leave your friend behind, you know.  He
could have come."

   Even in the dark, James could see the war on the man's face.  Shanna
must have seen it, too.  She smiled understandingly.

   "It's OK.  You can talk about it.  Where James and I come from, it's
accepted.  Normal."

   "What?" He leaned forward as well, eyes wide.  She chuckled.

   "Well, somewhat normal.  It depends on where you are, naturally, but
many are open about it.  I had a girlfriend who swung that way." Her face
clouded, James wincing.  Reminding themselves of friends they'd never see
again was not good.  Anelie, sitting next to Ola, looked between him and
Shanna, confused.

   "What are you talking about?"

   Ola looked at her for a long moment.  He glanced at James, who nodded.
With a sigh, he placed his hand on Anelie's knee, meeting her eyes.

   "I, my child...  love men."

   There was a gasp from the two children.  James looked at them.

   "You are not to spread gossip about this.  That goes for anything else
you hear.  Understood?"

   "Yes, Your Grace!" They both responded instantly.  Ola seemed to relax
at that.

   "Thank you, Your Grace."

   "Thank you, Ola.  There can be no secrets, nothing that can be used to
gain influence over you by others.  As Shanna said, your preferences in
lovers is not an issue with us, so long as the individual can be trusted."

   "But!" Anelie swung her head between Ola and the older teens.  "You
can't love men!  That's not allowed!"

   "Says who?" James asked, amused.

   "God!"

   "If God doesn't like it," Shanna said, "he shouldn't have made men who
prefer men, and women who prefer women."

   "Women..." the teen's eyes widened, dropping quickly into her lap. 
James focused his attention on Ola.

   "I assume those like you are in no way accepted in this world."

   "Not by Poles, no," he said, dryly.  "Among the Elves, it is said to be
the norm for both sexes to be free with each other, but that may just be
slanderous rumor.  I quite like the idea, though."

   "Understandable."

   "There was a rumor," Ewa said, breaking her silence, "that King Lawenza
was having an affair with the Elven King."

   "Right," Ola scoffed.  "The King had no interest in men.  Trust me."

   "You knew him well?" James asked.  Shanna shot him a glance, which he
ignored.

   "I did not venture into the Royal Chambers, but I saw enough of His
Grace to know his lust was for the curved sex." He shrugged, smiling.  "I
can tell these things."

   "You heard the rumors, though?"

   "I heard MANY rumors.  All nonsense, naturally.  The King was many
things, but he was not fornicating with animals, or Elves."

   This time James did let his eyes meet Shanna's.  She nodded.

   "I think," She said, "there's a book you should read once we're in camp,
Ola..."



   ****



   "My God..."

   The thirty year old bureaucrat looked up from the small diary, eyes
wide, horrified.  James nodded.

   "Exactly.  There's a lot this doesn't tell us, but..."

   "It was true!  Oh, God, and I had poor Lechoslaw flogged for spreading
that rumor!  How could His Grace DO this?"

   "What exactly was he doing?" Shanna asked.  "Who was the woman?"

   "I don't know!  Does it matter?"

   "Of course it matters!" James did not so much slam his palm on the desk
where Ola sat as place it forcefully.  The man jumped in his seat
regardless.  "We need to know what happened!  Who killed the royal family?
Who started the war?  Were the two related?  It's important, man!"

   Ola looked back down at the book, thin body trembling.

   "I..." He licked his lips.  "I don't know.  There were so MANY rumors!
You have to understand!  If that one was true, what else was?  Was he
performing magic?  Was he betraying his people to the Elves?  Was he
bewitched?"

   "Maybe all three," Shanna mused.  She moved to the desk, turning to face
Ola as she jumped up and back, sitting on the wooden top.  "Who COULD the
woman be?"

   The man let out a long sigh, flipping back through the pages.  His
finger traced a couple lines.

   "I think...  well, rumor says only the Elven Queen, or the Elven Royal
Family, can cast spells like this.  Travel magically.  One reason they
didn't just send their army right into the city, they literally can only
use it on themselves.  So, that narrows it down.  The Queen, or a Princess,
if there are any."

   "Queen would make sense, if she was planning on uniting the Poles and
Elves through marriage."

   "Impossible!" Ola slammed the book shut, naked hatred on his face.  "The
Polish would NEVER allow such a union!  Never!"

   "Now, yes," James said, dryly.  "That option is off the table."

   "No, even before!" Ola closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.  He let it
out.  "Sorry, Your Grace.  It's...  it's just, you know.  How we are.  What
we are taught to accept." His eyes opened, humor entering his voice. 
"You'd think I'd know better."

   "We are who we are, Ola." James put his hand on the man's shoulder. 
"Think back, try and remember anything you may have seen or heard.  If you
come up with anything, let us know."

   "Yes, Your Grace." He stood.  "You should get some sleep.  It's late."

   "Agreed.  I'll see you two in the morning." James picked up the diary as
Shanna pushed herself off the desk.  Her bow was not quite as respectful as
Ola's, but that was OK.  As they exited, he moved to restore the book to
its hiding place.



   ****



   "Are you ready for bed, Your Grace?"

   Ewa's voice came as James was removing his shirt, his back to the tent
flap.  Turning, he smiled.

   "Now that you're here, yes."

   Letting the flap fall closed behind her, the teen curtsied, little Marik
held firmly in one arm.  Eyes scanning the tent in the lamp light, she
frowned.

   "Typical." Moving with determined purpose, she made her way to the bed,
placing Marik on its thick blanket.  James watched with amusement as she
went to the crib on the ground near the foot of the bed, grabbed the
headboard and pulled it towards its usual location near the head.  Once it
was in place, and her nursing chair placed next to it, she picked the baby
back up.  She kissed his nose, the kid cooing happily.  James went over,
standing behind her, pressing against her back.

   "Good help is hard to find, isn't it?"

   "Yes.  You'd think they'd know by now."

   He laughed.  She had so taken over the domestic part of his life, in
here at least, they might as well be married.  Reaching around, he let
Marik grab his fingers.

   "Once he has teeth, he's going to have to find another toy."

   "Shanna suggested I make him a stuffed toy to play with, like a bear."

   "I think he'd like that.  I had one."

   "You did?" She turned to him, eyes wide.  He nodded, taking the
opportunity to give her a quick kiss.  Then another.  He felt himself
harden against her, free arm pulling her closer.  She helped.

   "Yup.  A brown bear called 'Teddy'."

   "Teddy...  why Teddy?" Spinning away from him, she bent, placing Marik
in his crib.  James admired her form.

   "Stuffed bears were called Teddy Bears, after an old leader of our
country who, while hunting, saved a bear cub whose mother had died."

   "Did he shoot her?"

   "You know, I honestly don't remember."

   She rose, turning.  The love in her eyes, directed mere moments ago at
the babe, did not change as they met his.  She stepped into his arms.

   "What other toys did you have?"

   "Hmm...  let's see..." James ran his hands down her back, cupping her
ass.  Her own hands found his bare chest.  "I had a stuffed blue dog with a
bell in one ear, called Bluebell, a stuffed rabbit called Rabbit..."

   "Imaginative," she said, eyes seeming to twinkle.  He nodded.

   "Oh, yes.  Very."

   "Why do I get the feeling you'd call our son, 'Son'?"

   "I could call him 'Daughter', if you prefer." James kissed her, hands
moving to unfasten her dress.  Her own hands moved to his belt.  Breaking
the kiss, Ewa brought her mouth up to his ear.

   "Tonight," she whispered, his pants falling to the floor, "you may get a
son." Her own dress fell from her body.

   "If not," he whispered back, "we'll just have to keep trying until we
do..."



   ****



   Shanna still didn't know what to make of Anelie.

   The girl idolized her.  Still.  Shanna had thought spending time with
her would disabuse her of that trait, would show her she was nothing
special.

   But, no.

   "Will you be wearing your armor tomorrow, Lady Shanna?"

   Shanna looked over at the red haired girl by the fire.  She held
Shanna's breastplate, with actual indentations for breasts.  Shanna
frowned.

   "Why?"

   "I'll polish it for you.  It's getting a bit dull.  You have to keep
your armor well maintained."

   "You don't have to do that..."

   "I want to.  Really.  I want you to look your best, be your best." The
girl seemed oddly subdued.  Maybe being away from the column, away from her
family more than she had been, was getting to her.  Well, Shanna could
relate to that.  And, really, the drudgery of maintaining her stuff was a
pain, polishing her sword something she already tended to put off more than
she should.  If the girl wanted too...

   "Sure, go for it.  Don't go crazy."

   "I won't."

   Shanna glanced around.  They had joined up with other wagons, enough for
a protective circle, for which she was grateful.  It just felt...  well,
comforting, regardless of whatever protection the formation actually
provided.  The drivers and soldiers now with them were strangers, something
she had not had to deal with in some time.  Their glances were the usual,
half distrustful, half lustful, all confused.  A female squire polishing
her armor would just add to that.

   "Lady Shanna."

   "Yes, Anelie?" All hope of getting the girl to just use her name had
vanished long ago.  Shanna picked up a stick, poking into the fire.  It was
late, but she was not yet tired.

   "Lady, um..." The girl kept her eyes on her work, cloth buffing the thin
steel.  "About Ola."

   "What about him?"

   "Do you...  um..." Shanna looked over at her.  For the girl to be
speechless, something big must be on her mind.  "You said you knew people
like him.  People that...  well..."

   "Anelie!" The girl shot her eyes up, startled.  Shanna fixed her with a
hard look.  "This is too public.  Understand?  This is not how you keep
secrets, or earn my trust."

   "I'm sorry." Her head dropped, voice a humble whisper.  "Forgive me."

   "I do.  Just be careful."

   "Yes, Lady Shanna..."



   ****



   James looked at the buildings up ahead in surprise.

   "What the hell is this?"

   "Buildings," Shanna said, expression innocent.  He scoffed.

   "Thank you."

   "Anytime."

   "Piotr?"

   James saw the conflict on the soldier's face, the desire to agree with
Shanna warring with his duty to his King.  King won out.

   "Small village.  It should be secure."

   Small was right.  Six buildings, three on each side of the road. 
Wooden, two stories each, with thatched roofs.  A crossroad ran through the
community, running from a small shack and dock on the river off into the
far woods.  The buildings looked human made, with windows, now shuttered,
and wooden doors.  A squad of Polish soldiers stood at the crossroad,
watching them approach.  James reined in his mount before them as the
wagons continued past.

   "Sergeant.  What's the situation?"

   If the soldier was unsure who was speaking, the Hussar escort made exact
identification moot.  He motioned to the buildings.

   "Nothing to report.  The residents aren't giving us any trouble, and are
staying inside."

   "Are you letting them out to get their work done, or are they trapped?"

   His brow furrowed.

   "Don't know, exactly.  No one has come out to say anything since I've
been here."

   James looked at the upper windows.  He thought he saw movement in one.
Part of him wanted to stop.  Talk.  See what these people were like.  Tell
them...  tell them that they were just passing through.  Meant them no
harm.

   The other part saw no reason to risk them meaning him harm.

   "Your Grace." He turned, the Sergeant's shock at that title ignored. 
One of the Hussars motioned towards the river.  "There's a boat approaching
the dock."

   So there was.  A small boat, with a single mast.  Its sail was furled,
crewmen at the oars assisting the current as it came closer to the shore.
James turned to Piotr.

   "Pick two of your men to come with me and Shanna.  The rest of you, stay
here."

   He didn't argue.  James was glad for that.  Piotr instead turned to the
rearguard now passing them.

   "I want a half dozen archers up here, covering us.  You are not to fire
unless you hear two horn blasts."

   "Or you hear me scream, 'Oh, God, help!'" Shanna ignored the look Piotr
gave her.  "Hey, sometimes a safe word should just be, 'Ouch'."

   "Let's go," James said.  Kicking his heels into his mount, Trigger, he
led them down the dirt path towards the dock.  There was obviously
confusion on the boat, an understandable situation.  He thought for a
moment it might turn away, avoid the obvious danger.  It kept coming,
though, prow sliding through the water towards the right side of the dock.
Reining in at the foot of the dock, James looked at the crew.

   They were frogs.

   Sort of.  Maybe toads.  There was a resemblance to cartoons of walking,
talking frogs, the eyes, the webbed fingers.  Their skin was a bumpy brown,
uneven in coloring, becoming a grey on their chests and under their arms
and legs.  For clothing, most wore a kilt of rope netting, a few what
looked like togas made from the same material.

   James put all that aside.  These were people.  As the boat came to a
stop on the side of the dock, webbed hands grabbing the wooden boards, he
dismounted.

   "Hello."

   The frog men looked at each other.  One, darker brown than most, with
spots verging on red, stepped up on to the dock.  He wore a toga of pure
white rope.

   "Hello, Polack."

   "My name's James.  If this is your village, I apologize for bothering
you."

   The stranger cast another glance at his companions, then up at the
roadbed.  James gave a shrug.

   "I AM sorry.  We are just passing through, and mean you no harm.  A few
thousand more will be passing this way in a day or two, then we'll be
gone."

   The Frog cocked his large head, as if considering.  His two yellow and
black eyes, mounted on top, blinked.  His voice was low

   "Why are you talking to me?"

   "Because we have one people out to kill us, and I'd rather not anger
others if we can avoid it.  What is your name?"

   Again, the stranger looked at his companions before answering.

   "Davi."

   "Well, Davi, I will give you a choice.  I am going to leave some
soldiers here, to wait for the thousands of wagons that are coming." The
poor creatures eyes seemed to explode at that news.  "If you would like,
they will stand aside and let those in those buildings leave, and you can
stay somewhere else until we have passed.  I think you'll be able to tell
when that is.  Or, if you give me your word that you will not bother us if
we don't bother you, I'll order them to camp up the road a bit and you can
go on with your lives until the rest of the caravan gets here.  What do you
say?"

   "If we leave...  what of our homes?"

   "I will set a guard at every door.  No one will enter them.  You have my
word."

   Davi's large head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing.

   "The word of a Polack?"

   "The word of King James, Son of Frederick."

   If the title had any special influence with him, the creature didn't
acknowledge it.  He did, though, nod.

   "We will leave our homes."

   "Probably the best option." James mounted his horse again.  "Thank you.
Once we are settled again, please come visit us.  I will repay you for this
inconvenience."

   "And where would I find you?"

   "I don't think you'll be able to miss us."



   ****



   As they made their way back to the road, James tried to ignore the
stares of those around him.  Once back on the dirt and stone thoroughfare,
he gave his orders to the soldiers.  They looked...  displeased, but the
Sergeant saluted and moved them back down the road.  James and his party
set off after the distant wagons.

   They had barely started when Shanna came up beside him.

   "OK, what the fuck was that?"

   "What?"

   "How could you understand him?"

   He looked at her, surprised.

   "You mean...?"

   "Yup.  Gibberish."

   "Huh." James shrugged.  "More of my magical language skills, I guess. 
If it's universal, it will come in handy during diplomacy, wouldn't you
say?"

   "It's annoying, that's what it is.  What's my magical ability?"

   "Don't know.  It probably involves banging things with stick, though."

   Chapter 14

   James reined in his mount.

   The ocean.

   The land dropped down and spread before them, forests and fields
extending until they met the dark blue expanse of water.  He could feel it.
Even from here.  There was a certain tinge to the wind, taste to the air,
that only the ocean could create.

   But...  this was not his ocean.  His world.  Why, then, did it remind
him of home?

   Riders drew his attention back to what lay closer to his small wagon
train.  They were humans, he was glad to see.  The trail marked by Lech's
men was good, and the wheel tracks starting to form a visible path, but
there still had been a few unsure moments once they were off the road and
traveling cross country.  The journey was almost over.

   "Your Grace!" The Hussars pulled up before them, saluting.  James nodded
in acknowledgment.

   "Greetings.  What's the situation?" That, he had found, was a good,
general response to people.  It sounded leadership-like, and gave him some
time to think of something.  The wagon beside him stopped, the driver
obviously deciding he, too, wanted to know.  James could hear the sound of
all those behind them doing the same.

   "The Commander sends his regards, and has asked us to lead your wagons
into the encampment.  He has also asked me to escort you and your party to
the construction headquarters."

   James looked beyond the Sergeant.  The afternoon was getting on, and it
was probably still another hour or more for the wagons to cover the
distance.  He could not even see the encampment, although he was not sure
what he should be looking for.  There could be nothing actually built yet.

   "Piotr, stay with the wagons, have your men keep their escort until
they're well within the camp defenses, then you're free to make your own
camp.  These men will escort Shanna and me the rest of the way.  Ola!" The
man stood in the uncovered wagon, eyes serious, respectful.  "See where
they want us, and set up camp.  We'll be here awhile.  Ewa has full
authority to set up my quarters as she sees fit."

   He nodded, not even batting an eye.  Gone was any hint that this was not
proper.  Ewa's eyes seemed to glow.  James figured he had earned some extra
treats come night.  He motioned to the Sergeant.

   "Lead the way."



   ****



   More was done than he had expected, but not nearly as much as he would
have liked.  An outer perimeter, quite large, had been marked out, with
stakes and some digging.  What James could only assume would be strong
points along the wall were in various states of construction, earthworks
rising up out of the ground.  The ones he saw were manned, sentries
watching over the approaches.  Inside, trees were felled, logs cut, ditches
dug or filled depending on the need and plan.  Everywhere men worked,
uniformed or shirtless, the sounds of hammer and ax ringing above the
rhythm of the surf.  They paused as he passed, saluting.  He returned the
greeting.

   The largest tent, grey, unadorned, stood on a slight rise a few hundred
feet from the beach.  The bay itself was not that large, maybe two football
fields wide, but James could see it would be big enough for their needs,
providing protection from the worst of the storms for their infant navy. 
He saw no sign of ship construction, but, obviously, there were many things
to do before then.  Dismounting, handing the reins to one of the people
always magically there for such a need, he entered the tent.

   "Your Grace!"

   The head engineer Tadeusz Kosciuszko was standing before him, grinning
happily, hand outstretched in greeting.  Not caring if it was too familiar,
James took it.  Commander Lech Watesa was there as well, his own hand
taking the King's.

   "We're glad to have you here safely, Your Grace."

   "And I'm glad to be done traveling for a bit.  So, show me what's going
on."

   The two stepped aside, motioning James towards a long table in the
middle of the tent.  He sensed, more than saw, the annoyance on Shanna's
face at being ignored.  Well, he wanted her here.  She was smart, and her
perspective on all this would be invaluable.  Turning, he motioned for her
to precede him.  Her nod in acknowledgment dripped with sarcasm.

   What the table held took his breath away.  It was a model.  Diorama. 
Whatever.  A three dimensional preview of the city to be.  Six feet long
and almost four wide, the detail, compared to what he would have expected,
was exquisite.  James shook his head.

   "OK, I want one of these for my quarters.  With toy soldiers, and some
toy monsters."

   "I'll see what we can do," Tadeusz laughed.  "Some of my men did most of
the detailed work around the evening fire.  You can't stop them from
carving."

   "They're promoted to royal toymakers." Reaching out, he picked up a
small house.  It was carved from a solid piece of wood, the unpainted
detail incredible.  Shanna shook her head.

   "That family is now homeless, you know."

   "I'm a friendly giant." He placed the house back.  "OK, tell me what I'm
looking at here."

   "Certainly, Your Grace." Tadeusz picked up a long smooth pointing stick.
"As you can see, we plan on walling off a rather large area.  This will be
mostly a defense against the wilds and a declaration of ownership rather
than a serious fortification, but it will slow down any attack.  We've
chosen this area due to the harbor, as well as two fresh water streams, and
are running the wall on the high ground as much as we can." He moved his
pointer.  "The actual keep will be here, around the royal residence and
defending the end of the eventual dock.  We've found a good potential
quarry to the east, so the second phase of construction will involve
stone."

   "I'd rather put everything into the ships rather than worry about
stonework."

   "Agreed, Your Grace, but we have only so many skilled carpenters and
ship builders, who will only need so many laborers.  The stone work will
not delay us in any way, and in fact will free up more large wood for the
ships- although, yes," he added, responding to James' raised eyebrow, "wood
will be needed to work the quarry and transport the stone."

   "We're thinking long and short term here, Your Grace," Lech said.  "We
can build once, then tear it down and rebuild once most of us are over in
our new homeland, or we can start here with what we'll need once this
becomes just our outpost on the mainland."

   "I can't believe we can get anything done in stone before winter, and I
want to be in a nice warm palace on the island by then."

   "And you will be, Your Grace.  Again, this is for the long term.  This
building here," he pointed to a wooden structure next to a stream, "is your
home while you are with us here.  They worked day and night, and it should
be ready for you as we speak."

   "An actual roof?" Shanna's comment drew the two older men's eyes.  She
shook her head.  "It must be good to be the King."

   "There are chambers for companions, staff, and guards," Tadeusz said. 
James could only chuckle at his obvious uncertainty at which the dark
skinned girl was.  "We felt it was important for you to be settled, and
court established, as soon as possible."

   "That's why I'm here." He leaned over the table.  Streets were laid out,
a grid pattern.  Most of them were empty, probably indicating tents.  "How
are we housing everyone?"

   "Tents, communal buildings.  No personal houses to start with, but
eventually.  Understandably, the longer people are here the less they'll be
satisfied with conditions they accepted while on the road."

   "Won't blame them" James straightened.  "Now, what about our future
home? What can you tell me?"

   Lech led them to a second table.  A map was already spread, sea shells
holding the four corners.  James leaned over it as the man spoke.

   "No name, that we know of.  Fifteen miles long, most of the northern
coast facing us rocky cliff face.  There is an inlet, though, leading to
the interior, which we think is navigable.  We'll have to check.  Lots of
good land in the interior, and the southern coast is a bit less rocky but
will still provide a natural barrier to attack."

   "And this?" James pointed to a mark on the western tip.  Lech sighed.

   "That, Your Grace, is a fishing village."

   "Which we know about."

   "Yes, Your Grace.  Our traders have dealt with them, and much of our
information about the island comes from their dealings."

   "They won't like us taking over their home."

   "...  no, Your Grace.  They won't."

   James considered.  There was no guarantee that the rest of the island
WAS empty.  It could be filled with villages, all protected by not just
mountain walls, but secrecy.  He did not want war.  Did not want to fight
these fishermen, whoever they were...  or whatever city-state or nation
supported them.  His people deserved peace, after their sacrifice.  He
traced the distance on the map from the bay to the village.

   "How long until we have ships?"

   "It depends on what we start with, Your Grace.  Our shipyard is about
done.  That was our top priority, along with your residence." James thought
his house could have waited, but he was only King.  What did he know. 
Tadeusz regarded him.

   "What is your suggestion?"

   "Two or three ships, able to carry...thirty?" He glanced around, Shanna
shrugging.  "Thirty men.  I want to get over to this village as soon as
possible.  Talk to them."

   "Your Grace!" Both men were shocked, Lech almost sputtering out his
objection.  "You can not risk...!"

   "I can and I will.  It's a fishing village.  Not a fort.  I trust my
soldiers to protect me, and our sailors, or oarsmen, to get me there and
back.  I seem to speak any language I need to, so, logically, I'm the one
to do any negotiating."

   "And," Shanna said, a slight smile on her face, "if you can get this
done before the rest of the column gets here..."

   The two officers glanced at each other.  James could see the wheels
turning.  Yes.  If he could secure their home, without violence, before
Captain Putaski arrived...

   "I'll talk with our shipwrights," Tadeusz said.  "See what our options
are."

   "I want at least two ships," James said.  Shanna nodded.

   "Just in case one sinks."



   ****



   Shanna walked down the beach, shoes and socks in her hands.  The sand
felt good between her toes, nice and wet, squishy.  Good sand castle sand.
A wave came in, just barely reaching her feet, the cool water flowing over
her small toe.  The tide must be going out.  The next wave went over both
her feet.

   So much for creating a theory based on one data point.

   She looked around.  So much activity.  What was she to do, exactly? 
Staying by James' side would be a good choice, naturally, but somewhat
limiting.  She didn't actually have a duty, and couldn't really think of
one she wanted.  Shanna wasn't the type to just stand off to the side and
be part of his posse.  A soldier?  Well, her weapons training with Piotr
was going well...

   Piotr.

   She stopped, smiling, another wave hitting the side of her foot.  She
was engaged.  Engaged!  God!  It still wasn't real.  And, maybe, it really
wasn't.  Things said under the night sky look different in the day, and
while they had found time together since, had whispered sounds of love,
that did not mean they would be together once they were settled.  She hoped
so, though.  He...

   Well, she loved him.

   Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing long term, it made her
happy in the here and now.  That was good enough.

   "Hey!"

   Somehow, among all the sounds, Shanna knew that was directed at her. 
She turned, looking inland.  A large soldier was standing and waving to her
from a group of about a dozen men seated on two parallel logs.  She
frowned. He was a stranger.  Strange men were to be avoided when she was
alone...  oh, what the hell.  It wasn't like nobody knew who she was.  She
was safe.  Dropping her sneakers to the ground and stepping into them,
socks still in her hand, she walked towards him.  The stranger turned to
his companions, saying something.  They all stood as she approached.

   "It's you!" The man, large, burly, with a bushy brown mustache and brown
hair down to his shoulders, seemed almost giddy.  Shanna stopped just out
of arms reach.

   "Yes, it's me.  Who are you?"

   He looked shocked for a moment, then laughed.  A loud, deep laugh, one
Shanna found infectious against her better judgment.  He grinned.

   "Don't blame you!  I was with you that night!  At the bridge!  You liked
my ax!"

   Shanna frowned.  She liked his...

   "Oh!" The memory came to her.  A soldier with an ax, grinning like a
madman as they attacked the burning raft.  Her own face broke into a grin.
The soldier stepped forward, hand outstretched.

   "I'm Bogdi!  God in Heaven, I thought I'd never get to see you again!"

   "And was that a good or bad thing?" She took his hand.  It was rough,
calloused, strong.  He squeezed, but she returned it with all she had.  He
barked out another laugh.

   "Ha!  I knew you'd have a grip like that!" He released her, Shanna
quickly flexing her fingers in the hope they were all still in working
order.  He didn't seem to notice, turning to the others.  "She's the one
I've told you about.  God, what a fighter!  The entire bridge would have
gone up in flames if it wasn't for her!"

   Shanna would have felt more comfortable accepting this praise in her
armor.  She had discarded it for a simple white shirt, no bra, and blue
pants.  With luck the ocean spray had not gotten her shirt wet.  She felt
her face redden under the impressed gazes of the men.

   "Your ax helped," she said.

   "Don't I know it!" Bogdi motioned her to one of the logs.  "Sit!  Join
us!" The men moved down, giving her room.  She hesitated for a second,
before deciding what the hell.  She had no better plans.

   "I'm Shanna, by the way," she said, sitting.  Bogdi nodded, sitting
across from her.

   "Shanna.  That's what I thought.  Others thought you had some other
names, but I thought Shanna was the right one.  That, and the Dark Hussar!"

   "I am dark, yes." Laughter exploded out of the men around her.  Good
laughter.  Accepting laughter.  Shanna could feel herself relaxing.  "So,
you all from the same unit?"

   "Now, yes.  They have us chopping trees.  We're old friends, though.  We
all got spanked for the same things every night!"

   "Being an idiot?" she asked.  Shanna somehow knew that sort of teasing
was allowed.  Another of the men leaned forward, pointing at Bogdi.

   "For HIM being an idiot, and us being stupid enough to follow him!"

   She shook her head as they laughed again.

   "You have to pick your leaders better than that!  I mean, look at him!
You only follow him because he's large enough to block most of the arrows!"

   "I am a shield!" Bogdi struck his fist against his chest.  The man next
to him smacked an open palm against Bogdi's head.

   "This is the thickest part!"

   A hand tapped Shanna's shoulder.  Turning, she saw the man beside her
holding a wooden mug.

   "Drink!"

   "I will." She took the mug, taking a quick smell.  Beer.  Good, she
needed a good beer.  With the practiced ease of a college freshman, she
tipped her head back, downing the drink.  It went down easy.

   "What a woman!" The men clapped and cheered again.  Blinking, the
alcohol seemingly already in her system, she wondered what this group
looked like to everyone else.  Not that she should care.  The man beside
Bogdi leaned forward, reaching out a hand towards hers.

   "I'm in love.  Are you free, by any chance?"

   "You," she said, smacking his hand, "I'd charge a year's wages."
Sensing, despite the laughter, that she should clarify things, she looked
between her new found friends.  "I do have a man, though."

   They all nodded, Bogdi putting a hand on his belt dagger.

   "And woe to the man who forgets that!  Worry not, my Dark Hussar.  We
are soldiers, not Elves."

   "So I can see.  Elves are not quite as ugly."



   ****



   James sat on his throne.

   It wasn't comfortable.  That was the main thing.  The wooden chair, set
up on a small rise above the dirt floor, had no cushions.  He needed
cushions.  How could he rule thirty thousand people with an aching bottom?
No.  That would be his first decree.

   He looked around the room.  It was sparse.  Bare.  A rough wooden
square, with unfinished walls, thick beams overhead.  Add some fur
hangings, and it would look like something out of a bad Conan movie.  Not
at all the elegant artistry he knew these people were capable of.  And they
knew it.  He saw it in the eye of the soldier who had led him here.  This
was unworthy of their King.  And...  he was as yet unworthy to sit here. 
Unworthy to sit on a cushioned, golden throne.  He was as unfinished as the
throne room.

   What would it be like, with this room full of people, nobles, all bowing
to him?  All pledging eternal loyalty to him?

   He knew what he should be doing.  James should be trying to turn this
into a democracy.  Trying to remake society, improve it, modernize it. 
Create another America, a land of the free.  Only, they already were free.
So far as he could tell, at least.  There were no slaves.  Serfs.  An upper
class, yes, and poor, but you always had that.  He would do his best to
rein in the former and help the latter.  He would look at their laws,
adjust what he thought needed adjusting.  Small changes.  Changes they
could accept.  Even he knew nation building never worked when imposed by an
outsider...

   The large double doors to the hall opened, his two guards swinging them
outward.  Ewa stood there, framed in the fading light.  James stood.

   "Welcome to our humble home."

   She walked slowly, light blue dress clinging to her body.  She moved
with such grace.  Damn it, she moved like a princess.  Why couldn't he
marry her?  He was King.  James saw movement behind her, the others in his
new family coming in.  Deciding not to wait, he stepped down from the dais,
quickly walking up to her.  As the others entered the doorway, he took Ewa
in his arms, kissing her gently.

   "The only way to Christen a room," he said, smiling.  Ewa blushed
nicely. With a sigh, he released her, looking past Ewa to the others.  "All
is well, I trust?"

   "No problems, Your Grace." Ola bowed.  As his head came up, James saw
his eyes seem to sweep the room.  James chuckled.

   "You know how things are supposed to be, Ola.  Set up my court.  There
are a few spare bedrooms here, or rooms that can be made such.  Once you
have the guards situated, assign the others as you see fit.  Only those
completely loyal, naturally."

   "Naturally, Your Grace.  Felek, Ruta, come with me.  Guards, if you
could tell the men to begin emptying the Royal Wagons, we can begin."



   ****



   Shanna watched as the distant Royal Wagons were emptied.  Should she go
over?  Greet them?  Offer to help?

   No.  She was having too much fun.

   Helmut handed her back her cup, now refilled.  She was pacing herself
now, not wanting to get drunk before dinner, yet holding her own with these
hulking males.  Raising the drink, she saluted him.

   "Thank you, soldier."

   "You are welcome, Dark Hussar." His gaze went where hers had been, past
the head of Bogdi.  "You travel with the Royal Wagon, don't you?"

   "Yup." She sipped her drink.  Helmut looked between her and the wagon.

   "What do you do?"

   "Not the King, if that's what you're asking."

   Another burst of laughter, a bit more drunken.  She hoped they were done
working for the day, as they were going to be a bit dangerous with an ax
after this.  Jacek waved his hands before him in denial.

   "No, no!  We know better than that!  You came with him, though, right?"

   "Yup."

   She kept it to that.  New friends or not, she wasn't drunk enough to
trust them too much.

   "Lady Shanna!"

   Anelie's voice came loud and clear over the sounds of the camp.  Shanna
sighed.  Her fan club was back.  She was about to rise when Bogdi did so,
surprise written on his face as he turned.

   "Sis?"

   Sis?

   "BOGDI!" Anelie was suddenly there, throwing herself up into the giant's
arms.  He swung her around, everyone, Shanna included, ducking so they
didn't get whacked by her legs.  Her red braid swung around even faster,
almost a blur.  As if sensing the weapon the girl had become, Bogdi moved
into the open as he slowed down the spin, letting the girl drop to the
ground.  Both were grinning like idiots, Shanna seeing the family
resemblance despite the difference in size and hair color.  Bogdi
immediately picked his sister up again, squeezing her, before depositing
her back where she had been.

   "Anelie!  Why the hell are you here?  Is Mom here, too?"

   "I'm serving the Dark Hussar!  Remember?  I told you I was going to go
become her squire!  And I did!  I'm traveling with her!"

   The soldier looked over at Shanna with surprise.

   "You didn't tell us that!"

   "You didn't say your sister was a talkative redhead." She stood.  "What
did you want, Anelie?"

   "I just wanted to see if you needed me, Lady Shanna."

   There was always something to the way the girl asked that question. 
Some aspect just on the edge of Shanna's understanding.  Her brother seemed
to be looking at the girl strangely, too, as if he caught it as well.  She
shook her head, clearing it.

   "Not really.  Come.  Sit." She shooed the men beside her over, scooting
over herself to make room on the end.  She sat, patting the log beside her.

   "Um...  sure!" The redhead seemed to blush as she sat down, hands in her
lap, knees together.  Bogdi, grinning, returned to his seat across from
them.  Shanna half turned to the girl.

   "So, tell us the most embarrassing story you know about your brother!"

   "Hey!"

   All trace of embarrassment left Anelie's face.  She leaned back, arms
going behind her for support, feet kicking like a little girl.

   "Weeelll, there was this one time..."

   Chapter 15



   Shanna raised her arm, catching the blow in the middle of the round
shield.  She grunted, the impact absorbed by her body, forearm vibrating.
Her body moved to the right, the wooden sword in her right hand swinging
upward from below her waist.  Piotr's shield easily dropped to thwart the
blow.  His entire upper body was now exposed, but she was in no position to
do anything about it.  Deciding she was in a bad position herself, Shanna
backed away.

   "You have him now!  Keep at it!"

   She could do without the cheering section.  Bogdi and his companions
stood around the two duelists, commenting on every exchange of blows.  Some
of Piotr's men, too, stood there, also cheering for her.  This seemed to
annoy her lover to no end.

   OK.  She did like the cheering section.

   Piotr smiled, both shoulders rotating as he worked some kink out.

   "Good.  You didn't press the attack from a bad position." He changed his
stance, shield raised.  "Come at me."

   She set herself, looking for an opening.  Maybe if she attacked with the
shield?  She could then bring her sword in under it...

   "Your Grace!"

   Helmut's surprised greeting indicated the evening's practice was
probably over.  She relaxed, keeping an eye on Piotr.  It would be like him
to make a surprise attack, keep her on her toes.  He straightened, moving
to lean his fake sword against a tree stump.  That lesson obviously wasn't
in the cards.  Shanna briefly considered attacking herself, but that would
just result in him not holding back and probably another bruise on her
toughening skin.  True, he'd kiss it better later, but she let the thought
pass.  Discarding her own weapon and shield, she turned.

   James was returning the soldier's salute.  She didn't salute him,
naturally.  He was, in her eyes, an equal.  What these people thought
didn't matter to her in the slightest.

   "What's up?"

   He smiled at her, amused, she thought, at her continuing lack of
formality.  It probably was a refreshing change.

   "I just talked to the shipwrights.  The two boats should be ready by
dark."

   "And?"

   "And I plan on setting out for our new homeland at dawn.  The tide
should be right."

   She nodded.

   "And?"

   "And I'll want you up and in the second boat when we go."

   Shanna found herself looking past James, across the harbor.  You could
see the island, barely, out past the entrance.  A dark shape on the
horizon. Mysterious.  Forbidding.

   "OK."

   "Your Grace."

   Shanna looked at Bogdi.  The brown haired, giant of a brother to Anelie
had stepped forward, head bowed.  She frowned as James regarded him with a
raised eyebrow.

   "What is it, Soldier?" he asked, humor in his voice.  Bogdi kept his
eyes on the ground as he spoke.

   "Your Grace, I would like to volunteer to join Lady Shanna on this
mission."

   "And I, Your Grace."

   "And I."

   Shanna turned in a circle, eyes wide.  Every one of Bogdi's companions,
her new friends, had stepped forward.  Had offered to join her in an
untested boat across an unknown ocean.  She didn't know what to say.  Even
Anelie stepped forward, quickly stepping back at a scowl from her brother.

   Piotr, and his men, stayed silent.

   "If she wishes it," James said, eyes on her, "I have no objection.  We
need fourteen oarsmen," he added, glancing at the dozen before him,
"minimum, plus two more in addition to Shanna.  If you can find some
archers to fill those slots, do it."

   "I know some men, Your Grace.  We'll be ready."

   "Good." His eyes returned to Shanna.  "You OK with this?'

   "Um...  yes." She was blushing.  She knew she was blushing.  Why was she
blushing?  She mentally shook herself.  "Yes.  I'll be ready."

   "Good."

   James turned, retracing his steps, his two guards just behind.  Shanna
turned to Piotr.

   "You're not coming?"

   She didn't mean for it to come out hurt.  To come out...  like some
woman wronged.  Piotr's wince did not bring her joy.  She shook her head.

   "Sorry.  I know it's probably..."

   She felt his hands on her shoulders.  Looked up to see him standing
before her, eyes whirling.  He let out a sigh.

   "I'm a Hussar, Shanna.  I fight on horseback.  The King needs strong
soldiers for this, not horsemen like me."

   "But I need you," she whispered.  He smiled.

   "And I you.  But, what was it you said?  You wouldn't stay home and be a
normal wife?  This is the life of a soldier.  Going off, leaving family,
friends.  Hoping to return some day." His face became serious.  "You'll
lead your men.  Protect the King.  And come home, your job well done.  And
I'll be waiting."



   ****



   "Don't go."

   James looked up at the sad teen.  Ewa held herself above the tired King,
black hair loose, hanging down to his chest.  Her legs straddled his, the
royal manhood resting after its recent adventure.  He reached a hand up,
touching her cheek.  The other, out of long habit, found one of her perfect
breasts.

   "It will just be a day or two, if we camp there rather than risk a tired
crossing.  Nothing will go wrong."

   "I don't trust them."

   He didn't ask if she meant those going with him, or those left behind
with her.  He ran a thumb over the soft skin of her face, over the hard nub
centered on her hanging breast.

   "Trust me."

   "I love you."

   James moved his hand to the back of her head, drawing her lips down to
his.

   "Then love me."

   She did just that.



   ****



   Shanna lay her hand on the rough wooden hull.

   Did she trust this with her life?  She let her gaze go down its length.
The boards were not smoothed and painted.  The joints were, however, tight.
Inside, she knew, waterproofing pitch had been applied liberally.  Oars,
seven per side, stuck out from round holes in the upper hull.  There was no
mast, the winds, she had been told, not favorable enough to bother with a
sail on this short trip.

   She stepped back from the ship.  It sat on a road of logs, leading into
the ocean.  Wood beams held it upright, ready to be loaded.  Ready for her
and her companions to board, be pushed into the pre-dawn ocean.  For them
to travel into the unknown.

   She looked at her new friends.  Bogdi, now in a breastplate and helmet
well polished, yet obviously well used, knelt in the sand, talking to his
sister.  The others, loved ones back with the column, stood around her. 
Helmut had a hand on the girl's shoulder, expression on the rough man's
face one of love.  Anelie stood in for all they were fighting for.  All
they were risking their lives for.

   Shanna looked away.  She had said her goodbyes to Piotr before coming.
Spending the entire night with him, off away from the others.  She did not
want to appear weak.  Like a girl.  She was their leader.

   James approached, surrounded by his people.  Ewa, holding the baby,
caught him by the arm.  As Shanna watched, the girl drew the King into a
tearful embrace, the two ten year olds joining in.  James showed no
embarrassment as he kissed first the girl, then the baby, kneeling to
return the hugs to Felek and Ruta.  He stood, motioning to his guards as he
continued on his way to the ships.

   It must be good to be King.

   "Good morning, Captain Shanna." His voice was cheerful.  How could he be
cheerful?  She forced a smile.

   "Good morning, King James.  Lovely day for an adventure."

   "I think so." James looked around, raising his voice.  "OK, let's get
started.  We're wasting daylight."

   The gathered soldiers laughed.  With a wave of acknowledgment, the King
stepped up the ladder and over the side rail of the first boat.  His guards
and selected soldiers, armor reflecting the torches, followed.  Shanna took
a deep breath.

   Time to do this.

   Aware all eyes were on her, she carefully mounted the ladder, pausing to
make sure her sword stayed out if her way in its scabbard.  Fully feeling
the weight of her armor and shield, she stepped over the top, feet finding
one of the seats running the width of the ship.  Now on board, and feeling
very tall and unstable, she slowly walked from seat to seat until she found
herself at the bow.  Shanna sat, facing the back as her friend quickly
followed.  Taking seats facing the rear and grabbing oars, they turned
their heads and smiled up at her, grins infectious despite her mood.  The
last man boarding, she saw the ladder removed.  She looked over at the
other ship, James sitting at the bow.  He grinned at her.

   "All set, Captain Shanna?"

   "Is this a permanent promotion, King James?"

   "We'll see.  Ready?"

   She looked down the double row of men.

   "Ready."

   "Launch us, if you please!"

   Shanna felt the jolt as the boat moved under her, pushed by dozens of
men down the log ramp.  The splash of the bow into the water signaled they
would NOT be stuck on shore, as a small part of her had feared, and hoped.
With grunts and shouts, both in and out of the vessel, the ship continued.
She could feel the hull under her floating.  Could feel the moment the
stern left the last log.  As one, the men pushed their oars out.  A man she
was not familiar with stood at the stern, a drum hanging from his neck.

   "OK, you maggots!  To the beat!" He brought a drumstick down, a low boom
rolling up to her.  The men, as one, began to row.

   They were off.



   ****



   James had forgotten how slow ship travel was.

   He hadn't been on many boats.  His family wasn't the outdoors or fishing
type.  They had occasionally gone on tourist ferries and the like,
traveling around a lake or harbor.  He remembered one trip to New York
City, traveling over to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.  The
overall sense he had on these ships was not getting anywhere.  Maybe it was
just the lack of landmarks in the water, combined with the land before and
behind you not really changing much as the distance changed.

   Having to row the entire way didn't help.

   The ocean was calm.  That was good.  Once they had cleared the harbor,
as well as whatever outer reefs were now rendered harmless by the high
tide, he had set the craft towards the western tip of the island.  There,
they would find the fishing village.  There, he would have his first real
encounter with another people as King.

   For the seemingly hundredth time, he pulled out the spyglass and gazed
at the shore ahead.  The view had not changed.  Waves breaking on large
rocks, cliff faces, topped with trees.  Not at all inviting.  However, they
did not want an inviting home.  A good place to raise families that nobody
would want to invade.  That's what he wanted.

   "Drink, Your Grace?"

   He turned, lowering the spyglass.  The men had stopped rowing, taking a
much needed break.  The nearest held out a silver cup.  James took it,
smiling.

   "Thank you."

   "You are welcome, Your Grace."

   He took a swig.  Beer.  Good beer.  He was definitely ruler of a
cultured and refined people.

   "Hey!  King!  You guys stopping AGAIN?"

   And then there was Miss Stick Banger.

   Shanna stood at the bow of her ship, her men rowing hard as they passed
twenty yards away.  Seeing she had his attention, Shanna gave a sarcastic
wave, before sitting back down and downing a drink.  James looked over at
his Sergeant, eyebrow raised.

   "What do you think, Wojo?  Another ten minutes before they have to take
a break themselves?"

   "I give them twenty, Your Grace.  They're energetic fools."

   "That they are.  Another half cup for all the men, and then we'll
continue."

   Sitting back, he basked in the resulting cheer.  He was a good King.



   ****



   James slowly lowered his spyglass.

   Frogs.

   To be more precise, they called themselves the Kikker.  He had not known
what people would be here, but had half expected them.  If there was such a
thing as fate, and with all this he wasn't going to discount it, it simply
made sense for him to have met these people before.  Heck, the ship captain
from before could even be here.

   Too bad he couldn't for the life of him remember his name, and probably
wouldn't be able to recognize him mixed among his own kind.

   "Shanna!"

   She looked over, lowering her own spyglass.  The two ships were now
close together, separated just enough to not get in each other's way.  He
motioned with his hands.

   "We'll take the right side of the first dock, you take the left.  There
is to be NO conflict, without my word!  Understood?"

   "Understood!"

   Gone was the playful joking.  He saw her turn to her own men, giving
orders.  He looked ahead again.  They were definitely noticed, and
identified.  Men, Frog Men, were moving swiftly here and there.  It was a
small village, maybe twenty buildings, arranged on a crescent shaped shore.
Three docks poked out, about five ships of various sizes tied up.  All were
sailing vessels, four of which had what he assumed were fishing nets on
their decks.  The harbor entrance was narrow, maybe fifty feet across, but
marked with red wooden poles.  As they passed through, James noted the
rocky arms on either side seemed to not quite be natural.  The break wall
had been built, or at least reinforced.  Behind the village, mountains
rose. He did see a break, a pass leading into the interior.  He would not
be surprised to find it led to farms.

   Or herds of giant flies.

   There was no attempt to stop them, which was good.  He had his archers
ready, arrows un-nocked but ready to be fired at a moments notice.  James
stood as the ship came alongside the dock, the men pulling in the oars on
that side.  He hoped his unarmored body signaled peace, not stupidity. 
Kikker dock men grabbed the ropes thrown to them, tying up the ship.  As
soon as he felt secure in his footing, James stepped up onto the dock.  The
guards Duda and Nowak were there beside him instantly.  A moment later,
Shanna stepped out of her ship, Bogdi and Helmut at her side.  A Frogman,
splotchy brown skin partially covered by an orange rope woven toga,
approached down the dock.  He stopped a few feet away, green eyes on the
top of his head never leaving James.

   "Greetings, Polack.  Welcome to Visvang."

   The tone was wary.  As well it should be, with thirty or so armed humans
at his doorstep.  James bowed his head slightly.

   "Greetings.  I am James, leader of the Polish People.  I wish to speak
to the leader of this village."

   "You come armed, with soldiers." His eyes swept the two ships.  James
nodded.

   "My people have had...  a bad month, and friendship is no longer
assumed. We come in peace.  How we leave is up to you."

   The creature nodded.

   "We have heard, and seen your camp on the shore.  I am Ajani, Chief of
this village.  Please leave your men here and follow me."

   This was it.  Did he trust them?

   No.

   "Allow me to bring one guard.  We are a suspicious people now."

   The Chief nodded, seemingly not insulted.

   "Wise.  Come."

   James turned to the others.

   "Shanna, you're in charge.  Stay here, keep out of trouble.  The men can
stretch their legs on the end of the dock, but go no further.  Duda, you're
with me."

   "Good luck," Shanna said.  She stuck out her hand.  He took it.

   "If I'm not back in an hour, feel free to come rescue me."



   ****



   Two of the Chief's own guards fell in behind James and Duda.  He ignored
them.  He could feel the eyes of the entire village on them.  The women, he
noticed, were a touch more human than their male counterparts.  The heads
were smaller, bodies a bit more slender, breasts prominent.  He wondered
what they could be for, given that frogs laid eggs.  Perhaps these people
had evolved beyond that, nurturing their young.  Or maybe they weren't
actually breasts in the human sense.  Who could say.  He certainly wasn't
going to inquire into their mating practices.

   As they reached the center of a stone plaza before the largest of the
stone buildings, the Chief called for two chairs.  Servants, nude apart
from a blue rope belt, quickly brought them, setting the pair facing each
other on the grey stones.  Chief Ajani sat, James following suit.  The
guards stood behind their respective leader.

   "So," Ajani asked, leaning back in his chair, "what brings the King of
the Polacks here?"

   The continued use of that term told James his people were not well
respected.  Certainly not enough for their own name for themselves to be
used, remembered.  Something he would have to change.  He smiled, leaning
forward, hands clasped in his lap.

   "As you have noticed, my people are, indeed, camped on the shore
opposite this large island.  Soon, very soon, all of the Poles who escaped
the Elvish attack on our home will be there."

   "Are you founding your new city there?" There was humor in the Chief's
voice.  Obviously, he knew it wasn't a great location.  James shook his
head.

   "No.  No, before I became King, the leaders of my people chose another
location for our new home.  One isolated, safe from attack."

   The Chief's eyes widened.  His body shot forward, hands clasping the
chair's arms as if to hold him back.

   "You dare!"

   "I do not." James gestured around him, voice calm.  "This is a large
island.  You, so far as we can tell, only use this small piece.  We wish to
inhabit the rest, whatever you are not using.  Peacefully."

   "You wish to take our land!" He was shouting, drawing the attention of
all who had been pretending not to listen.  This meeting was in public for
a reason, perhaps to give the Chief political cover for whatever choice he
made.  Or to make James feel naked, threatened.  James leaned back,
relaxed.

   "We wish to do no such thing.  If the island is inhabited by other
villages and cities, then we will go elsewhere.  Or stay where we are,
making do with that shoreline.  If you are claiming what you are not using,
though...  well, my people will not like that."

   Chief Ajani sat back, eyes narrowing.

   "What...  do you propose?"

   "Do you have an accurate map we could look at now?"

   The Chief signaled to the servants.  Quickly, a table was set up between
them, a large map spread out.  James was happy to see it was close to what
his maps had said.  He pointed to the center of the island.

   "There is a freshwater lake here, connected to the sea by this narrow
river through the northern cliff face.  We wish to build our home around
that lake, farm in the fields on either side.  If the river is navigable,
it will be our connection to our town on the shore.  If not," he moved his
finger southward, "then this would be our harbor.  We may use it anyway. 
Our plans will be vague until we walk the ground ourselves."

   The chief slowly nodded.  After a long moment, he pointed to a series of
small lakes in the hills behind the village.

   "These ponds water our people, are...  important to us.  They are off
limits."

   "Understood.  Mark your boundary, and I shall enforce it forcefully." He
pointed to a pass.  "A road between our people, though, would be beneficial
to all.  Would help trade."

   "Trade?" The demeanor of the Chief changed.  James nodded, smiling.

   "We were forced to leave our crops in the ground.  While we have enough
food for the winter, fish would greatly enhance our diet.  Obviously, you
already have agreements with others for your catch.  We would trade for all
you have left, for reasonable prices."

   "Polacks," the Chief mused, leaning back, "are good with wood, metal. 
Are they not?"

   "Indeed we are.  Help us find mines on this island, and we will trade
you high quality metal goods, for better prices than you will get on
shore."

   Chief Ajani looked off across the harbor.

   "The deals have been getting worse, traders in the cities wanting to pay
less and less, and charging more and more."

   "We will buy most, if not all, of the fish you catch.  I have thirty
thousand people to feed."

   "Deal." The Chief stood, webbed hand outstretched.  James stood and took
it.  The grip was strong, dry.

   Peaceful.



   ****



   Shanna paid no attention to the shore.  Her gaze, instead, stayed on the
only non-fishing boat in the harbor.  She frowned.

   "Bogdi."

   "Yeah?" The large man moved to her side, axe in his hand.  He put the
head on the ground, leaning on the handle like a cane.

   "Do you remember that boat by the bridge?  The one blocked from heading
south?"

   "Hmm...  yes.  It was pissed.  Why?"

   "Look at that ship."

   He leaned forward beside her.  The craft was a cargo ship, larger,
shallower than the Frog fishing boats.  Shanna looked between it and Bogdi,
catching the moment of recognition.  He stood up, eyes wide.

   "Well I'll be.  That's it.  That's a coincidence."

   "Yes," she said dryly.  "It is.  What I don't think is, is the way the
crew doesn't seem to want to look at us."

   Even as she spoke, one of the Frog crewmen glanced across the water at
her, quickly looking away as he busied himself with some task.  Bogdi
frowned.

   "What do you think is the reason?"

   "The raft...  I don't think it was the Elves."

   "Son of a bitch!" The ax was up and in both his hands before the curse
was even done.  "What do we do, Lady?"

   "Nothing.  Now, at least.  No harm, no foul, and we were in their way."
Her own hand found itself on her sword pommel.  "Mark the ship, though. 
Remember it, pass the word.  We may have a word with them later."

   "And more," he said.  She nodded.

   "Yes..."



   ****



   James stood on the front porch of his wooden Palace, watching the first
of the wagons come down the new road to the harbor, down into their final
destination.  Above him, on a pole high above the roof, waved the Polish
flag.  He could sense the relief in the people, the joy, the pride.  They
had made it.  They were safe.

   Chief Ajani stood at his side, head shaking back and forth.

   "You...  walked.  Your people WALKED!  From Nowy Kiev to HERE?"

   "We are a strong people, Chief Ajani.  We are survivors.  Something
others will soon understand." He saw the familiar armor of Captain Putaski.
"Ah, here's the good Captain.  I thought he might be at the head of the
caravan.  Piotr, invite him over."

   "Certainly, Your Grace." The young Winged Hussar kicked his horse,
moving to meet the cluster of officers.

   James could not help but chuckle.  With Shanna still over on the island,
looking over the interior where they would build their homes, the Hussar
was a much different man.  For all the bravado of youth, worry over the
girl was never far under the surface.  James would have to keep that in
mind when giving him tasks.

   Piotr returned looking much more stern, soldierly.  His father rode
beside him, pleasure at the reunion clear in the older man's face.  Captain
Putaski, however, did not look happy.  He reined in before the King, eyes
clearly on the Kikker Chief.  He just sat there in his saddle for a long
moment.  James folded his arms over his chest, waiting.  Only the others
finally dismounting and saying their greetings to the King finally seemed
to kick his mind back into gear.  He dismounted, taking a few steps
forward, eyes finally going to James.  He bowed.

   "Greetings, Your Grace."

   "My Grace greets you." It had been awhile since he had used that joke,
and the time seemed right.  The Captain gave him a hard stare, which he
ignored.  "Captain Putaski, may I introduce Chief Ajani, head of the Kikker
fishing village we will be sharing the island with.  We were just
finalizing a treaty and trade agreement."

   Their eyes met.  The Captain was the first to look away.  He bowed his
head slightly to the Kikker.

   "Greetings, Sir."

   The Chief returned the head bow, staying silent, most likely realizing
nobody but James spoke his language.  James looked around the gathered
officers.

   "I know you're all tired, yet eager for news.  I can tell you that we
have been to our new home, and are currently scouting the site of Nowy
Warsaw.  The Kikker, under our new friend Chief Ajani, have agreed to
supply us with fish this winter, in return for finished goods from our
carpenters and metal smiths.  They have also agreed to assist in our ship
building, in exchange for a couple ships once we no longer need them." The
relief he saw on their faces cheered him.  Even Putaski seemed to be giving
begrudging approval.  The man did frown for a moment, though.

   "Nowy Warsaw, Your Grace?"

   "I took the liberty of naming our new city.  Warsaw is the current
capital of our old homeland, so is a fitting name for our new home."

   "Have you named the island, too?" There was humor in the Captain's
voice. James smiled.

   "Nowy Poland."

   ****

   Elsewhere...

   ****

   The Elven girl lowered her hands, her body drained.  The air before her
shimmered, reflecting the surrounding trees and grass.  It would protect
them.  Shield them.  Shield them from...

   Princess Catty closed her eyes.  She couldn't call them Elves.  No
Elves, no true Elves, could do such as had been done to her family.  Could
ever, in a thousand lifetimes, have tortured their Queen.  Not even Polacks
were that cruel.

   Her sister's crying was louder now.  Eyes reluctantly opening, Catty
turned.  Jaka knelt beside their mother, the older girl sobbing into her
hands.  Why did Catty have to be the responsible one?  Yes, her magic was
stronger, but she was the child.  Her sister was of marrying age.  Almost
an adult.  Yet she cried like an infant...

   Her eyes, against their will, dropped down to Mother.  The Queen's eyes
were closed, a blessing.  Catty did not have to see the pain within.  A
blanket covered her thin form, covered the burns and cuts on her naked
body. Covered the gash where they had removed the unborn child and...

   Catty looked away.  They weren't Elves.  No.  None of her race, outside
of those in this sheltered glade, deserved that name.

   "Your Majesty, we must go."

   She whirled.  How dare the guard wake Mother!  How dare he...!

   His hand was on Jaka's shoulder, his words directed to her older sister.
The other Elven soldiers stood behind him, heads bowed.

   Mother...  Mother was...

   Queen Jaka struggled to stand.  The Lieutenant helped her, Catty quickly
moving to take her other arm.  The younger girl's eyes went back to the
mangled face of her beautiful mother.

   "She's really...?"

   "I felt her go," Jaka whispered.  "Her pain is over."

   "And ours goes on.  Where do we go, Sister?  Where on this world do we
go?"

   Jaka closed her eyes.  Catty could feel the magic gather.  Heard the
whispered words.  As the soldiers gathered, all those of her former race
still loyal to the Crown, a ghostly globe appeared before the Queen.  Eyes
opening, Jaka pointed to a long, thin island off the southern coast.

   "There."



   ****

   The End (for now)

   ****

   Edited by Packrat

   ****

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