The Distant Queen

by Terry Volkirch

This story is mainly about a romance between two young women who are from two different worlds. It's a fantasy story with some adventure but there are no mythical creatures and there isn't a lot of magic. It's really a sweet and tender romantic comedy with a mostly happy ending.

In chapter 4, Gabrielle finally meets her match ... and it's a man! Will she submit to a dominant male for the first time in her life or will she use her magic to gain the upper hand? What do you think?! ;)

Chapter 4

Come morning, Gabrielle awoke slowly and grudgingly, until a chilly breeze stirred her to get up and get her circulation going. Her little ledge had kept her safe but she still felt exposed. She hoped there really was a city not too far downstream. It would be good to sleep in a warm, soft bed again and enjoy a more easily obtained meal.

'I really miss my hot cocoa,' she whined to herself as she climbed down from the ledge.

Her wooden tools waited for her at the bottom of the cliff and her rumbling stomach told her which one to use. She grabbed her forked spear and went looking for a nice spot in the stream to catch breakfast.

Soon enough, with her hunger abated, she turned to other pressing matters, like how she might find cocoa in a strange, alien city. She really depended on cocoa to improve her mood. As it was, she felt grouchy enough to slice a bear up like a loaf of sweet bread.

The orange sun climbed high enough to create some amount of anxiety. The warrior queen could imagine feeling the lure of a nearby city and desperately wanted to find out if her strange dreams really weren't dreams after all. It was time to move on.

* * *

Gabrielle was satisfied with her progress. The surrounding hills grew larger while the stream collected runoff from smaller connecting streams to become a river, and she could tell she was close to some sort of civilized area. The smell of smoke and cooked fish hung heavy in the air, making her mouth water. She'd only caught enough fish to last her through the morning.

Finally, she rounded a large bend in the river and saw her first alien, who actually appeared to be a normal man. She cautiously approached him, purposely not pulling her sword to try to prevent any conflict, though she did keep one hand near her knife. It didn't matter that she was in another distant land. She just didn't trust men.

The man squatted in front of a campfire, half facing the queen's direction. He was very muscular, with short, dark hair and dark eyes, and was heavily armored and well-armed. He had a large two-handed sword strapped to his back in much the same way Gabrielle did. She was sure he'd make a formidable opponent and greatly hoped she didn't have to see if she was right.

Sure enough, before she got within a stone's throw of him, he noticed her, and smiled as he stood up. Though when he realized how tall Gabrielle was and saw her sword, his smile slowly turned into a frown.

In spite of his reaction, she continued forward. She tried to smile but ended up looking more worried than anything else. Then her worst fears came true when she reached the campfire. The man pulled his sword and pointed it at her, speaking some strange gibberish.

"I don't understand," she told him.

She dropped her wooden tools and turned her hands palm side up, showing she held no weapon. She really wasn't in the mood to fight in spite of not having had any hot cocoa. The long march had long since replaced her grumpiness with travel weariness, and the smell of cooking fish had her stomach gurgling.

The soldier, as she came to see him, cocked his head at her speech. He didn't say anything more for several heartbeats, but when the awkward silence was interrupted with the sounds of Gabrielle's stomach, the man surprised her with a laugh.

She pointed to the fish and then her mouth, trying her best to politely ask for some. The man just shook his head and pointed to the river.

'How rude,' she thought. 'Is there no hospitality in this land?'

Unfortunately, the man wasn't finished. Gabrielle bent down to retrieve her forked spear and he playfully swatted her on the butt with the flat of his sword, laughing when she nearly fell forward.

"Okay," she growled. "That was uncalled-for. I was hoping to find civilization but I wonder now if I'll be disappointed."

The man wasn't fazed at all. He just stood there with one hand on his hip and the other on the handle of his sword, keeping it vertically balanced on the ground.

The warrior woman didn't appreciate his playful quirks and wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk from his face, but she turned the other cheek so to speak. Unfortunately, she left herself wide open again. As she passed to go spear fishing, the man surprised her with yet another swat to the rear and that was it. Gabrielle lost all restraint.

She dropped her spear while pulling out her two-handed sword, and in one swift motion, knocked the man's sword out of his hand. The sword went clattering over some rocks, leaving the man with a shocked look on his face, and a smile on hers.

The soldier recovered, then growled and dove for his sword, rolling and coming up with it in both hands, ready to do battle. She couldn't know it but that sword was extremely important to the man, and doing what she did to it was a great offense.

Gabrielle swore under her breath. This was the last thing she wanted, but since she had to start it, she'd make sure to finish it. She stood her ground and gestured to the man to attack. The fight was on.

Blade met blade, neither yielding nor damaging the other. Both were actually fine steel, though Gabrielle didn't know the material as such. The magic talent of her blacksmith mixed carbon in with the iron to produce an excellent sword.

The skill of both warriors was evenly matched, though the queen noted that the soldier was probably a little stronger than she was, and easily more well-rested. Her only advantage was that she was taller and her reach was a little longer. So it was plain that the longer the fight wore on, the more likely she'd lose. She couldn't let that happen. Her queendom depended on her.

Anger tinged with desperation slowly built up in the woman, along with the power of her magic. She didn't consciously use her talent in battle. It normally just happened naturally. When she'd had enough or things looked bad for her, the magic would explode in self-defense, and that's exactly what happened. In a flash, the fight was over.

Where once stood a tall, broad man, now stood a much shorter and very slender young woman with the same hair style and same brown eyes. The armor she wore looked ridiculously large on her and she'd lost so much strength she couldn't lift the tip of her sword from the ground, though she kept trying.

After grunting in vain for a dozen quick heartbeats, the new woman finally stopped and realized something very strange had just happened to her. She gasped and her eyes went wide before she let go of the sword handle and fell to her knees in shock.

The queen had seen the same reaction countless times before on the battlefield. She'd let her opponent's new reality slowly sink in before going to try to comfort her. It would be difficult with the language barrier between them, but she had to try. Her honor demanded nothing less.

The soldier woman scowled and tried to speak in her native tongue, but she didn't say much before she clutched at her throat, obviously wondering what happened to her voice. After another short period of awkward silence, she suddenly began to tear at her armor, removing it piece by piece until she wore only a large green tunic, baggy leather pants and a pair of floppy leather boots. With her body free of the armor, her hands immediately went to her breasts and her eyes went wild.

"Grobnya!" she hissed, and then she fainted.

Gabrielle lunged forward and caught her just in time. She looked down on her with pity as she laid the woman gently on the ground, resolving to stay and watch over her. There was no telling what could happen if she didn't. The strange land was full of too many potential dangers.

She thought about how to handle the situation. Not being able to communicate with the soldier complicated things, but she was determined to try. She managed to talk with Muriel in astral form and so far her education had helped her survive in the strange land. She was confident she could figure out a way to communicate.

* * *

After several candlemarks, the soldier woke up and immediately found that her clothes seemed to fit a lot better. Gabrielle had used her knife to slash vertical slits in the side of the tunic and pant legs. She used some of the extra fabric for a belt to keep the pants from falling down and yet more to make ties to close the slits and give the clothes a better fit. She even made a vertical cut all the way down each boot and wrapped them tightly to hold them on the soldiers feet. It wasn't the best tailoring job but it would do.

The new woman rubbed her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to wake up from a dream. She finally looked up at Gabrielle and started to whimper.

"There there, Little One," the queen soothed. "You'll be okay. I'll watch over you." Then she bent down and started scratching lines in the dirt with a stick. It was the only way she could think of to communicate.

She first drew a tall stick figure of herself, giving it long hair and two circles to represent breasts. Then she drew a second shorter stick figure with short hair and breasts. She pointed to her figure, then pointed to herself and said her name.

The soldier, being more intelligent than most, understood and repeated the process with her own stick figure, finally pointing to herself and saying, "Targ."

"Targ," Gabrielle said with a some distaste, thinking it didn't fit her new look very well. "I wish we could've met under better circumstances."

The queen then drew another stick figure between Targ's and her own. She gave the new figure an inverted triangle for an upper body and added a phallic symbol between its legs. Then she drew lines from her figure to the obviously male figure and more lines radiating out from the male figure. Finally, she drew an arrow that pointed from the male figure to the new woman's figure to indicate the effects of her magic talent.

It was a complicated pictograph but it conveyed the message. The slender young woman immediately knew what it meant and quickly added an arrow pointing back from her female figure to the male figure, looking at the taller woman with pleading eyes.

Gabrielle sadly shook her head and then shrugged as she crossed out the second arrow.

Targ's shoulders sagged and her face fell. She'd suspected as much and took the news rather well. As a man, she wasn't really as sexist and stupid as she first appeared. She just wasn't very social. She'd tried to fit in when she had to but avoided everyone most of the time. Her social skills were especially lacking when it came to interactions with women. She'd tried to treat Gabrielle much as a sister, having no clue she was dealing with royalty. Then she lost her temper when Gabrielle abused her sword. That sword had been in the family for generations so she took it as a great insult. Unfortunately, misunderstandings are far too common between two people without a common language.

The shorter woman sighed and reached around herself to gather up all the pieces of her armor. Most of it was a combination of soft leather and chain mail and she separated the leather and rolled it up, tying it in a bundle. She planned to make pouches and various other useful items from it. The chain mail parts were buried in a shallow bit as a symbolic gesture. She was cutting ties with her past as a soldier. She'd never be accepted as she was. The city militia only accepted men.

When it came to her sword, she chewed her lower lip, trying to decide what to do with it. It would kill her to leave it. It meant too much to her. She tentatively tried to lift it and nearly hurt herself. Then she tried dragging it around to see how well that would work. It didn't take long before she gave up on that idea too. She stood over it and thought for awhile, trying to come up with something she could use to carry it in but soon gave up. All she could think to do was slump to the ground next to it and fondly stroke the blade.

Gabrielle watched Targ with great curiosity. She had no idea why the small woman was trying so hard to keep the sword but the woman's futile attempts tore at her heart. If only they both spoke the same language, things would be so much easier, but for now, there was one thing she thought she could do to help. She walked over and easily hefted the sword, slipping it in with her own and smiling to show that she would carry it for the much weaker woman.

The small young woman gasped, obviously thinking her former opponent had meant to keep her sword. Her masculine instincts urged her to fight for it but those instincts were rapidly fading, replaced by sad resignation. She was powerless to do anything about it and a profound sadness overtook her. Then she did something she hadn't done since she was a very little boy. She cried.

The queen guessed what was wrong. She quickly pulled Targ's sword, placed it by the small woman and took her forked spear over to the river to get a much needed meal. When she came back later with three large fish, Targ was asleep next to the sword, but at least the former soldier slept with a smile on her face.

* * *

After a short nap, Targ awoke to see the tall woman cooking three large fish and was surprised to see her own fish, set aside near the campfire to keep them warm. She slowly dragged her sword a little closer to the fire and cautiously started eating, keeping a close eye on the strange woman seated across from her. She found it hard to trust anyone who could do what that woman could do.

As the awkward silence wore on, the new woman was given no reason to fear Gabrielle. In fact, the taller woman's grace and good manners seemed in stark contrast to what Targ expected from a warrior. The woman no longer seemed all that strange, only different.

The small woman found her eyes irresistibly drawn to the tall, graceful woman and continued to wonder about her. Was it possible to start over? Could the two of them actually be friends? Perhaps all that was needed was a gesture of goodwill to patch things up between them. She'd like that because she realized she'd need a friend. No one would believe who she was since magic sex changes were impossible in this world. Most magic was impossible.

She also thought about her stubborn desire to keep her family sword, even though she could no longer use it for defense. A lighter sword would be a must if she was to protect herself from all manner of beast, including some of the members of the militia. She shuddered when she thought about what the men in the city might try to do to her. It might be a good idea to stay close to the warrior woman for protection as well as friendship, at least until she could get a light longsword and train with it.

As she thought about her sword, she began to wonder if she misunderstood Gabrielle's earlier intention. Gabrielle did return the sword when she didn't have to do so, and it was obvious that the tall, strong warrior woman meant her no harm. So what was she afraid of?

The small woman slowly nibbled at her fish and still filled up long before her hungry companion, but it disappointed her when she noticed she still had two fish left. She was used to eating a lot more as a man. It was a shame to have food go to waste so she offered her remaining fish to Gabrielle, who gladly accepted the gift since the woman had an appetite that matched her size.

Gabrielle smiled at Targ in thanks but the gesture wasn't returned. Instead, the shorter woman shyly looked at her feet. The frustrated queen thought she was beginning to know how Muriel felt before they figured out a way to communicate. It didn't matter though. The new woman needed help. They needed to learn to communicate better and she wouldn't take no for an answer, especially since she didn't know how to say "no" in Targ's language.

Deciding she was the more educated one, Gabrielle took it upon herself to learn the local language. She'd most likely need to learn it anyway if she was to get anywhere in the city. Using pictographs and lots of pointing, the language lessons began in earnest and lasted the full rest of the sun's rotation and beyond.

* * *

The need for sleep finally put an end to the queen's lessons, and Gabrielle soon found herself back in her castle where Muriel waited for her.

"Where have you been? You're late."

"Sorry!" Gabrielle mouthed. Then she spelled out the words, "fight" and "man", followed by "magic" to show she'd used her magic talent.

"Are you okay?" her friend quickly asked.

The astral queen nodded and smiled.

"That's a relief," Muriel said and paused before continuing. "Yes, it is a relief but I don't have time to hear any more about it. I'm sorry but we've got a problem."

The queen nodded sagely, urging her friend to tell her more.

"The royal healer is insisting on seeing you. He's very concerned that you're still sick. The silly man's been working feverishly on all manner of healing potion but he thinks the only way to treat you is to check on your symptoms himself. I don't know what to do."

Gabrielle frowned. The man truly did fuss over his patients. He was desperate to maintain his reputation so it made sense that he should check on her condition to get a proper diagnosis. She wasn't quite sure what to do about it either, but she started to get an idea.