Wanda forced herself not to fidget in the saddle, she felt, no she was positive that her placement in King Dorn's peace delegation was a mistake. But, as a dedicated soldier, her place was not to question orders. General Willow herself, imposing in her burnished armor with the gold stars, had personally assigned Wanda the task. Wanda understood the reason, just not her selection. She felt that an officer should represent the Sisterhood of the Moon. At least it should not have been as poor a soldier as herself. Nonetheless, here she was, marching at the head of King Dorn's envoy.
The Sisterhood of the Moon wanted peace just as desperately as King Dorn. Their alliance with Dorn's kingdom of Sednar had not been the Sisterhood's finest hour. For one of the few times in the illustrious history of the female fighting legion, their intelligence had been in error. The Matriarchy leadership had assumed King Dorn's larger force would win handily, so, the Sisterhood negotiated a hefty tribute and threw its lot in with him, supplying a stream of highly trained and dedicated mercenaries. But the rival king, Rupert of Tirana, proved to be the superior tactician. In no time he erased his troop size deficit and had played his every step brilliantly. Sednar was now hemorrhaging troops, both in fatalities and desertions. King Dorn may have stumbled badly in this would be war of conquest, but he understood that a distasteful peace, even without honor, was better than total defeat and a life in exile.
Behind Wanda, the train of wagons loaded with tribute and gold. All hoped that King Rupert would prefer material wealth to pushing for the inevitable military rout. Wanda reflected that for the Sisterhood of the Moon, defeat would be especially galling. The Daughters of Selene, the Goddess of the Moon, had never known defeat. Although they were, technically, only allies of Sednar, the Sisterhood's commanders would go to any lengths to save face. To chalk up the entire military misadventure as a draw was the desire of the entire command structure of the Sisterhood.
Wanda believed that was why she had been selected. The idea of General Willow, or any other Sisterhood commander for that matter, having to eat crow in the presence of a military rival was too nauseating for any of them to contemplate. That that rival was male and patriarchal made that nausea especially bitter. Better one of the most disciplined Sergeants in the entire female army swallow that gorge than an actual authority figure. Wanda considered the promotion she was sure to earn for this onerous duty. That pleased her, a little. Not that it would help her catch up to her sister. Again, Wanda wished she was as talented as Bonnie.
Wanda remembered it all, sneaking with her older sister out of their house in the middle of the night to make the arduous hike to the nearest Sisterhood stockade. Both she and Bonnie thought it the best decision they could make. Their mother's sudden death had sent their father into a dark depression which he tried to counter with drink. When he was drunk, he would sometimes beat his daughters. In his grief, the farm began to fail around him, causing his mood to darken even more. Bonnie explained that soon, if things continued, their father would trade his daughters, despite their tender ages, for even the cheapest dowry offered. In fact, she suspected that the conversation their father had had that very day with a corpulent widowed farmer and his equally obese and repulsive son was about that very topic!
By dawn, they were in a stockade and the new world of the matriarchy. Among a mix of girls, some who had escaped similar circumstances, and others who had been left at the stockade gates as infants, Bonnie and Wanda were educated in preparation for a life of military service. Here, as in just about everything else, Bonnie outshined Wanda. The older sister got better grades in school, sang more sweetly in chapel, was better at drilling and riding. It was so frustrating for Wanda. Worse was the constant comparison by her instructors and teachers. Wanda could not help it that she was not Bonnie, why could not others see that?
Things had gotten a bit better when Bonnie was inducted into service upon the arrival of her eighteenth birthday. Despite their differences, Wanda could not help but swell with pride as she watched her beautiful fair-haired sister, looking absolutely smashing in her brand-new burnished armor ride off on her first military adventure. That her sister, a short time later, would demonstrate phenomenal bravery and be rewarded with a position at The Sisterhood's Officer Candidate School, should have made Wanda happy, but it didn't.
Out of her sister's shadow, Wanda was no longer subjected to constant comparison, but classes did not get any easier, nor did drilling or horsemanship. Still, she did well enough to pass all of classes and graduate to a military career when her eighteenth year arrived. Wanda was very grateful that she did not end up as one of the unfortunates who did not meet military muster. Those women were given plain dresses, a bit of gold for their pockets, a final blessing, and exiled to the world of men. Under those conditions, girls like Bonnie or Wanda could, most probably, adapt, but for the girls who had only known the comforting, insular world of the Matriarch stockades and schools, it was a different story.
But the Sisterhood could not afford any dead weight. Did not male armies have their rejects as well? Wanda could still recall the words of her favorite teacher on this issue, "We send them away with an education that is markedly better than they would have received among the world of men. They have been taught to adapt to new situations and to survive hardship. If they cannot survive on their own, the shame of marriage is preferable to starvation. Yes, men are inferior, but in some ways, they are irreplaceable. Without their careless and ceaseless impregnating, we would soon run short of foundlings."
Initiation, however, was everything that Wanda had hoped and expected. On the night of the first full moon after the equinox, Wanda went from cadet, to soldier. Wanda and her fellow inductees shivered naked in the dark while all the clothing they had owned as students was incinerated in a huge bonfire. One by one, each girl took her turn on the altar, where her body was anointed with sweet oil and their long hair shorn to the scalp. This was followed by a confession of sin and the ritual of female superiority.
The high priestess revealed a gold ring for every initiate. With the others, Wanda slid hers on and pledged her life to Selene. The goddess of the moon was now their bride, their protector, and their source of inner strength and constant pride. Lastly, Wanda bit her lip and suppressed her sounds of discomfort as the tattoo, depicting the four phases of the moon and the word "Selene" written in mystical script, was incised on her right thigh.
After a slow march about the temple, Wanda and the other girls were led indoors to receive their swords, inner silks, as well as a handshake from the commanding general. There was spiked punch, cake and delicacies. In the morning, they would be measured for their armor, but first ... A trim, attractive ebony-haired Lieutenant struck up a conversation with Wanda. The newly initiated soldier thought that, with her butchered hair, she must look horrid, but the Lieutenant replied, "You are quite beautiful, even with it cut so short, your red hair is quite fetching."
It was the first time Wanda had heard anyone, aside from her late mother, call her beautiful. Later that night, the lieutenant led Wanda to her quarters. The young soldier had had perhaps too much punch, but she avidly responded to the officer's embrace and kisses. Wanda could not recall the process by which both had ended up naked, but she was quite aware of the Lieutenant's lean, compact body with its flat tummy, perky breasts and ebony triangle, and above all her heady aroma and the sense of intoxication well beyond what the punch had supplied.
For the rest of the night, the Lieutenant encouraged Wanda to explore her alluring body with her tongue, lips and hands; just as she was doing to her. Wanda felt the Lieutenant's tongue upon her sex, even as she plunged her own into the black furred box of the older woman. Softly, the Lieutenant instructed Wanda, who suddenly found ways to apply classroom theory. Just before dawn, Wanda understood the word "orgasm" was more than just a concept.
That had been five long years ago. Wanda's chief regret was that her military life was never again that magical. She seemed to have just enough ability to be a soldier and no more. She could mount up and ride, but without the panache of most. She could march and duel and patrol, but without the drive and conviction of the best soldiers. And when she was off duty, try as she might, most nights she could not recapture the bliss of her first night with the lieutenant. Fellow soldiers were eager to share her bed, but soon moved on to someone else, confusing and depressing Wanda. It had taken her seemingly forever to make sergeant. Now, like so many other times, she was on the duty that no one else wanted or which she was not smart enough to avoid. This was not the future Bonnie had sold to her all those years ago.
Wanda gazed to her right, next to the emissary rode Prince Wilton, King Dorn's youngest son. Until this current conflict, Wanda had not spent any real time among men. What she had seen in her short time in proximity to men was as confusing as it was enlightening. In so many ways, King Dorn's army was like her own. There was pride, skill, arrogance, and intensity. There were also the same bouts with boredom, aloof officers, occasional bad food, and rotten duties. Although Wanda was more adept at appraising women, it struck her that some men, like Prince Wilton, were rather pleasant to look at. Most of the men however, sparked little interest. They were too stout or too short, too loud or too shy, too homely or too old. "They are as different from one another," thought Wanda to herself, then woman from each other." The realization was a profound one for Wanda. Ever since that first day in the stockade it had been drilled into her skull incessantly that ALL men, despite their apparent individuality, were inferior to women in every way. "Their dissimilar faces mask a uniformly unpleasant soul," she had heard repeatedly from every woman with authority over her. Only in quiet off-duty times did a few of her fellow soldiers dare to recall lost brothers, or fathers, or uncles fondly. Wanda was aware of the danger such affections posed to those few brave women for that sentiment and admired them all the more for their courage.
Wanda's reverie ended with the sudden arrival of the delegation at the gates of King Rupert's castle. This castle was the King's main residence and was some distance from the front. King Rupert and his generals had preceded them to this structure. Wanda was awed by the beauty of the building. Multi-colored pennants fluttered in the breeze; sunlight glinted off the armor of the soldiers in the ramparts. In the moat, a duck and half dozen trailing ducklings swam peacefully and unperturbed, oblivious to the assembled humans and their war. The party crossed the drawbridge in a wedge-shaped pattern. The elite guard at the gate noted the flag of truce and warily waved the rest of the party and their accompanying wagon train forward. Wanda's presence drew open mouthed gapes from all, including King Rupert's most disciplined soldiers.
The wagons were parked just past the entrance and left under guard of most of the soldiers accompanying the peace delegation. Wanda dismounted and joined Prince Wilton and about a dozen others who marched into the interior of the now forbidding seeming castle. Once inside, they surrendered their swords and removed their helmets. Wanda shook loose her golden red hair, now quite long. King Rupert's guards noted the astounding beauty of the woman in burnished armor. The porcelain skinned face and luminous green eyes were so alluring every soldier immediately wondered if the body encased in metal was as enchanting. Heralds blew horns and the soldiers inside were all ordered to stand at ease. Wanda was overwhelmed. The Matriarchy believed in simpler structures and, aside from their temples, used far less stone when building. Wanda was also more than a little awed by the man on the throne. Unlike King Dorn, who was older and uninteresting, King Rupert was young and virile. He had dark brown, almost black wavy hair, a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and sparkling dark eyes. He was, it seemed to Wanda, even more handsome than Prince Wilton.
King Dorn's emissary met King Rupert's at the foot of the latter's throne. The two engaged in animated conversation for quite a while, before Rupert's man spoke in his king's ear. Betraying no emotion, King Rupert gazed intently at his enemy's emissary and stated simply, "I would hear you, good sir."
Everyone in the room realized that those words were a positive portent for the future.
