The burning sun leered down on the three young women, each awaiting their turn to boast of their

A statuesque woman, having lost her battle with Morpheus, flung off her homespun blanket. Quickly pulling on her woolen tunic, she threw a heavy cloak over her broad shoulders. She strapped on her sword and snatched her bow and quiver off a tent pole. She moved stealthily through the trees, easily eluding the sentries.

Princess Marissa meandered into the woods for solace and thought about her life. Men considered her desirable, but were put-off by her aloofness and skill with weapons. Having descended from a long line of warrior queens, she was attracted to fencing when other girls were playing with dolls. She fondly remembered how, four years ago, she and her lifelong tomboy friend, Tayla, battling with their wooden shields and swords, had repelled the boys who tried to invade their rickety play fort. But now, at age eighteen and the sole survivor of the Kingdom of Thrallia's royal family, she and Tayla were fighting for their lives and the lives of their people.

The chieftain pondered her chances as she continued her walk. King Drundar of Hargonia and his army had them trapped. There would be no escape or quarter.

"Only two hundred of us," Marissa sighed, kicking a fallen limb in frustration. "Against eight hundred of them."

After the Thrallians were defeated last spring by the invading Hargonians, Tayla had whisked Marissa from the battlefield. But not before the two teenaged swordswomen sent a dozen soldiers to their reward. The princess had little time to mourn her mother and father, slain while fighting. Drundar had vowed her death. The surviving defenders wanted to flee to neighboring but unconquered Argulia, but a handful resisted.

After their forces had retreated, the Thrallian farmers grieved as their thatched huts were burned. They had pleaded with their stubborn princess, who vowed guerilla action, to accompany them. Tayla insulted them and called them all cowards. The fierce girl then convinced them that the Hargonians would pursue them unless some resistance was made. Although the unmarried women preferred to die fighting rather than face enslavement, most were untrained in warfare.

Krykul Forest then became the sanctuary for Marissa and her spunky female army. Just when things looked bleakest, assistance arrived in the form of six strange, distaff warriors. They were vague about where they came from or who they were, but they insisted on helping the princess teach her women the art of war. After months of grueling practice with bows and wooden weapons--and enduring many bruises--self-confidence replaced the rebels' daintiness. Last week, after telling the fighters that they were ready, their trainers wished them luck and departed.

The princess wandered between the towering trees and considered her shortage of weapons. She wondered if Tayla been able to successfully bargain with the crafty Argulian merchants. Suddenly, she heard a thrashing sound from a nearby thicket.

An owl had pounced on a hapless mouse and, then, did a lynx ambush itself. Before the cat's salivating jaws could rip out the feathered neck, it collapsed, an arrow in its heart. Marissa, hoping that she had been in time, ran over to the dazed bird.

The panting woman dropped her bow and rolled the dead feline away. Sensing someone behind her, she whipped out her sword and whirled to confront her adversary. Shocked, she stared at an old crone who was dressed in filthy rags.

"Who are you?" she wondered, her blade pricking the elderly woman's stomach.

"Have no fear, my child," the stranger stated.

Something told Marissa to trust her. She mumbled a good-luck prayer and slid her weapon into its weathered scabbard. The withered face then relaxed. Scrutinizing the darkness, the teenager imagined shadows reaching out. Only last week, two girls out boar hunting had been mauled by a mogorth--a monster resembling an apelike lion--before they could kill it.

Marissa returned to the owl and gently scooped it up. She freed it after noticing that it had only minor scratches. Then, with the stunned rodent grasped in its beak, it hooted once in thanks and sailed into the night.

"The owl is sacred to Aelina, goddess of the forest," the arthritic lady remarked. Spying a rotten log, she motioned the teenager to sit with her on the moldy bark. Marissa chewed on a blade of grass and listened attentively. She noticed that the crickets had quit chirping.

"The daughter of almighty Krom will not forget your kindness to her servant," the hag continued. "Perhaps the goddess will plead to her father about your plight."

"Is it possible?" the skeptical girl asked.

"He is unpredictable," the witch winked. "But, behold your possible fates."

The sorceress scooped a shallow hole into the humus with her heel and then retrieved a horn flask from her tattered robes. She poured in a few drams of malodorous fluid. Two scenes, illuminated by the moon, unfolded before the fascinated princess. Horrified, she observed naked Thrallians being whipped as they trudged along a muddy road. Next, the puddle clouded. As it cleared, she perceived an older version of herself, perched on an ornate throne next to a handsome man and a beautiful young woman she had never met.

"But which will come true?" the teen sputtered, jumping to her feet.

"Beseech Krom for what you want," the enchantress cackled, withdrawing a ruby talisman from her pocket and draping it around Marissa's neck. "Be warned, however, that he requires a steep price."

"Great Krom, take my life in exchange for Thrallia's freedom," the kneeling princess prayed as the gust began howling.

When the gusts died, Marissa turned around and noticed that the witch had vanished--and so had her amulet. Noticing it was almost dawn, she picked up her bow and hurried back to her companions. As she spied the camp, an arrow hissed by her ear and thudded into a gnarled trunk.

"Halt!" a squeaky voice cried. "Who's there?"

"It's Marissa," the princess replied and then froze, the accuracy of her archers well known to her.

"Come forward and be identified," the sentry warned, bringing her flaming torch near the trespasser's darkened face. The freckle-faced guard had shouldered her bow, but now threatened the intruder with a sword. She smiled when she recognized a familiar countenance. Then she started yelling.

"Marissa's back!" yapped dozens of women, led by Tayla, as they swarmed around her.

"Have a pleasant stroll?" Tayla smirked. "What would we do if the Hargonians had captured you?"

"Why, fearless one, you would just have to rescue me," Marissa laughed, thumping her seventeen-year-old chum on her arm.

Marissa followed the women back to their campfire. Between mouthfuls of roast pork and spring water, she began quizzing her lieutenants about today's trading with the Argulians. She realized that she should have been there and not prowling the forest in search of wisdom. Realizing how superstitious the ladies were, she decided to keep secret her meeting with the forest crone.

"Did the smugglers get through the enemy lines?" Marissa asked, turning to Tayla, her number-two.

"They wondered where you were, your Royal Highness," the muscular warrior replied sarcastically. "Those thieves wanted most of our gold, but now we have weapons for everyone."

Marissa splashed her hands and face in a water bucket and walked over to a bulging armory. Tossing back the tent flaps, she fondled the polished armor and then removed a three-foot broadsword from a wicker basket. When she chopped into a nearby tree trunk, she frowned when she heard the telltale sound of poor tempering. She threw a cuirass on the ground, angered at its thin gauge. How were they supposed to fight a well-equipped army with cheaply forged swords and breastplates that would not stop a hard slash or sharp arrow?

"You paid too much," Marissa snapped, turning to face Tayla.

"Do you think that I'm a stupid housewife?" the insulted woman retorted, itching for an argument. "You wanted to smell the flowers, instead of helping me dicker with those swindlers."

Suddenly, a loud commotion and the clang of steel rang from the rear of the encampment. Boisterous male voices meant that some Hargonians were visiting. Marissa drew her sword and rallied her warriors. But they would not be serving tea and cakes to their guests.

Howling banshees brandishing swords and shields surprised the raiders, struggling to attach their frisky horses to a creaky wagon. Marissa sighed as she spied two girl guards lying inert in the brush, arrows sticking out of their backs. As the battle raged, a flaxen-haired woman cried out and doubled over as a sword gutted her.

The fierce skirmish didn't last long. The Thrallians soon drove the six intruders away from the precious carts. A spear then pinned a bandit to a tree. As the dust settled, three more robbers, their entrails spilling out or necks spurting, were sprawled dead on the damp ground.

Trying to wrest victory out of defeat, the last two bolted toward a woman carrying a shield, which was embossed with the Thrallian royal eagle. A blond tried to stop them, but was forced back with a slashed breast. Shoved against a wagon wheel, Marissa had her buckler slammed away. One man groaned when her sword plunged deeply into his chest. She tried to withdraw her blade in time to prevent the other soldier from hacking her head off.

The warrior's head split open like a melon before he could cleave Marissa's neck. A shapely leg then kicked him down. The princess staggered to her feet and mouthed silent words to her savior.

"Do you want to live forever?" Tayla chortled and then threw her gory arm around her shaken friend's shoulders.

Back at camp, Marissa enthusiastically embraced her triumphant comrades. They had slain the invaders but at the cost of two girls and a woman. And one brave teenager needed some stitches. Heeding tradition, the women lit funeral pyres for all of the fallen warriors. They mourned their first fatalities since fleeing into the woods.

"Why didn't you take just me?" Marissa moaned to the evil-looking sky. She knew the families of the slain females. Thunderbolts echoed over the swirling smoke.

As the last dirge faded, Marissa beckoned Tayla into her tent. Pulling her down beside her onto her straw bed, the chieftain confided to her about the owl and the witch's omen. Tayla sobbed, unwilling to accept the princess' impending death. They held each other tightly and talked most of the night.

The golden sun peeked over the horizon. When the Thrallians emerged from their tents, Marissa assembled them under the oaks. "If we don't repel the enemy today," she cautioned, "they'll be in Argulia by next week." The princess and Tayla then reviewed the battle strategy with them.

When they were dismissed, the rebels ate a hasty breakfast of jerky and coarse bread. After grinding their weapons to razor sharpness, they removed their tunics and slipped into high-cut leather maillots lined with soft cotton. The women helped each other buckle on their armor. They silently embraced each other and then picked up their crescent-shaped oak shields.

Two hundred females, with raised spears or shouldered bows, defiantly marched out of Krykul Forest at noon. At their head strode a Joan-of-Arc-like figure, her armor gleaming and sword upraised, with Tayla at her side. Scabbards slapped the exposed thighs of the gangling teenagers and attractive women as they walked. Sunlight glinted from their bronze breastplates, hammered out to fit generous busts, and metallic greaves adorned their calves.

A ram's horn trumpeted the Thrallians' arrival. Hearing it, the Hargonian army scurried around like ants. Hundreds of young men pulled on homespun breeches and strapped on bull-hide cuirasses and greaves over their hairy bodies. They fetched their metal-studded wooden shields, broadswords, bows, and javelins, and were herded into ranks by their sergeants.

"They're only women!" a spearman sneered, squinting at their protruding armor and revealing uniforms.

"Death to the Thrallian swine!" King Drundar bellowed as he withdrew a huge sword. He was clad in highly polished steel armor and was mounted atop a white charger. He was supremely confident in victory over a handful of foolish women.

As the enemy advanced toward them, Marissa and Tayla guided their soldiers into two phalanxes and positioned their archers at the rear. When the two sides collided, their shouts filled the dank air. The Thrallians' spears, sticking out like porcupine quills, relentlessly stabbed the onrushing youths. Hargonian blades and spearheads counterattacked, splintering the rebels' shields. Their weapons hewed and jabbed through the thin feminine armor, feasting on blood.

The Hargonians bulldozed their way through the Thrallian infantry, scattering them into small groups. Fighting toe-to-toe, the soldiers relentlessly butchered each other. But more male than female bodies littered the red-caked dust. Many warriors of both sexes writhed in agony from horrible wounds. However, not one woman or girl begged for mercy.

Marissa withdrew her dripping spear from a massive chest and then flung it into the back of another before he could stab a prostrate woman. She then spied King Drundar and his bodyguards slaughtering some Thrallians. Her squad slashed their way to them. Although they slew many that were defending the general, they failed to prevent him from galloping away.

A stocky man wheezed as a shield smashed his breath out. Dazed, he gawked at his gorgeous opponent. Smiling back, she carved his bullish neck. Like a gladiator, Tayla placed a sandaled foot on the dead soldier's chest and uttered a bloodcurdling warcry. Several Hargonians, witnessing the many men she had slain, admired her spunk. They saluted her with raised spears. She waved her grisly sword in reply. Other men, however, were enraged and charged her. The ferocious teen, gamely hacked to death one youth after another. Her face was red-spattered and she suffered from several ghastly wounds.

Hundreds of twitching masculine bodies strewed the battlefield as the Thrallians finally began to retreat. Marissa, witnessing her own losses mounting, ordered her archers to launch a covering barrage. The men began to panic as the arrows took their toll.

Marissa rallied her army and yelled for them to hurl their spears into the fleeing backs. But King Drundar ordered an answering volley and feathered shafts sprouted from many of the female archers and infantry. The amazon attack faltered and some clutched their breasts and bellies as swords and javelins slew them.

"Fall back to the forest!" Marissa bellowed, anguishing as more of her people toppled into the blood-soaked earth.

The Thrallians fled, but the Hargonians gave chase. Tayla, her shield smashed and her armor flayed, watched as the remnants of her army sprinted away. She stood alone, with one gashed breast jutting from her tattered maillot, and brandished her bloody sword. A few stouthearted women, seeing her suicidal stand, halted their escape and joined her. They formed a shield wall and defied the men to pass them. Thus protected, the defeated princess shepherded her forty-nine remaining soldiers, many with wounded draped over their grimy shoulders, into the woods.

From the sanctuary of the dense trees, the Thrallians watched the last battle and weeped as each valiant woman died. Finally, only a teenaged girl was left standing among the bodies. Blood flowed down Tayla's sweaty skin as she surrounded by howling men. She menaced them with her broken sword, but they realized her strength was gone. The haughty young woman swayed, scowling as a tall centurion approached her.

"Such a noble--and very beautiful--swordswoman deserves to live," the bearded man stated to his leering troops. They roared back in agreement. He admired her comely shape and wanted her for his own. "If you relent, I will personally guarantee your safety."

"What about the rest of us?" Tayla shouted, flinging her useless hilt at his feet.

"When we hunt them down, they'll be either killed or enslaved," he replied.

"Then, I would prefer to die free, with a sword in my hand, than be your slave," she spat back.

"A pity, for one so lovely," he sighed. "But, your valor has entitled you to an honorable death."

"Nobody lives forever," she retorted, placing her red-stained hands on her curvaceous hips.

He gestured at a crimson broadsword and battered shield lying next to a slain maiden. Tayla sighed when she recognized a friend and muttered to the corpse that she would be joining her soon. She wearily picked up the weapon and saluted him. She declined the shield, preferring a quick end. He swished his sword down in reply and hefted his shield. The men stood back, giving them room.

After a gallant fight, Tayla sagged to her knees after his blade rammed through her naked breast and exited out her back. She moaned and coughed up blood; then she collapsed. The officer, wincing from a slash on his arm, withdrew his blade from the once attractive body and cursed the gods. His army cheered, thankful they would never have to fight the hellion again.

From the forest's edge, Marissa witnessed Tayla's death and unsheathed her sword. Tears streamed down her face and she had to be restrained from charging the executioners. Cursing them, her eyes widened when after a few minutes she spied a white pennant fluttering from a spear. Four men, carrying Tayla's body atop a broad shield, solemnly marched toward the waiting women.

"She refused quarter and died bravely," the centurion commented, ordering the litter placed before the heartbroken princess. "I'm sorry, but you and your women have one hour to surrender or my army will come in after you."

The grieving princess shook the soldier's hand. Kneeling down, she put her arms around the bloody corpse and allowed her tears to flow. After a few minutes, she composed herself and thanked him for honoring Tayla but refused his offer. Grim-faced, the man returned with his escort. Stupid women . . . it's over for them, he thought. She knew further resistance was suicide, but it wasn't for her to decide.

"Should we surrender?" Marissa shouted at them.

High-pitched yells and the thump of steel resounding on wooden shields answered her. Stoically, the Thrallians formed a meager phalanx. Led by a very proud princess, they paraded out of Krykul Forest.

After witnessing the Thrallians' bravery during the battle, Aelina had hurtled to celestial Osmard aboard her gargantuan eagle. She threw herself at her father's feet and begged him to spare the survivors. Annoyed, he shoved her away.

"For saving your ridiculous bird, I promised you that I would send the god of war, Grundl, to rescue Marissa from King Drundar," Krom replied, angry with her new demands. "Now you want more?"

He raged at his daughter and described her betrayals. First, her warrior nymphs, disguised as amazons, had trained the bullheaded females. Then, his child had endowed that she-devil, Tayla, with even more strength and fortitude. And, unforgivable, now she threatened to possess Marissa's body. Then she vowed to unleash her savage Valkyries on the unsuspecting Hargonians.

"The women are mine!" Krom bellowed. He had planned to order the war god's winged cavalry to sweep the females to Osmard before Drundar could capture them. "Besides, I'm running short of virgins for my dragon herd."

Undaunted, Aelina shattered her father's resolve. "Remember your dalliance in my forest with Clyminona, the goddess of love?" she pouted, poking his protruding paunch. "Knowing Mother's jealousy, she'll feed you to her Hell hounds after I tell her."

"You wouldn't?" Krom gurgled, more subdued.

"Summon a harpy messenger," Aelina shouted to a dwarf lurking nearby.

"Wait!" her chagrined father pleaded. "Be reasonable."

"Marissa's life and freedom for her people are the price for my silence," Aelina laughed, scampering over to the castle's balcony to scope the action below. "I'll leave the details to you."

"The Thrallians will get their freedom, daughter," Krom chuckled. "But not the way you think."

As a plan unfolded in his mind, he waddled down the winding staircase to the sulfurous pens. He brayed for his dragon keeper and requested that Thimerban be released. As the huge stall creaked open, the god beamed as a twenty-foot-long reptile lumbered over to him.

"I have a special job for you, my faithful friend," Krom informed it. Its snakelike neck descended and licked his master's face with its forked-tongue. "We'll have to handle this with some delicacy," he whispered, detailing his bizarre scheme into its scaly ear. The monster shook the walls with a hideous roar and nodded its immense head in approval.

Krom summoned his animal handlers and ordered a meal for Thimerban. A terrified virgin was dragged out of her cell. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she bleated for mercy. He looked away as the unfortunate girl was shoved forward. Gaping jaws snapped shut on her head, silencing her screams.

With his creature fed, Krom then lumbered over to a wall cabinet. Unlocking the massive doors, he removed two golden flasks. He plodded over to the satiated beast and struggled up its flanks. The monster snorted, anxious for another trip to Earth.

"A plague on all owls," Krom muttered, as his steed spread its leathery wings.

Thimerban belched fire as it circled the battlefield. It swooped down and drove the frightened women deep into the forest. After regaining altitude, the green-scaled dragon then buzzed the shocked Hargonians. They attempted to escape but gasped as King Drundar and his mount were converted into charcoal.

Krom selected his targets and steered his flying fiend after fifty of the most virile men. Then he individually herded them into the woods. Huddling with the women and forgetting their duty, they took shelter from the horrible beast. Together, they watched as it wheeled back and unleashed its flame-thrower on the doomed men cowering on the plain.

The corpulent god winged over the sparse treetops. He uncorked his bottles and sprinkled magical healing and aphrodisiac oils into the smoke-tinged air. The yellow mist descended on the youths and maidens crouched below. When they inhaled the enchanted fragrance, their wounds began healing and their hearts began fluttering.

The combatants breathed sighs of relief when the unearthly reptile finally flew into the sun. They dusted themselves off and felt their hatred washing away. Krom's potions manipulating them, the warriors began milling together. Nervous banter gave way to fond chatter. Then they declared an end to their hostilities.

Weapons and armor were discarded in favor of handpicked wildflowers and poetry recitals. Garth warily approached Marissa with a bouquet of daisies. She sniffed at them and smiled seductively. The handsome son of King Drundar then requested her hand in marriage. When the teenaged rebel threw her arms around his neck, the other couples took their cue.

The Hargonians, strolling hand-in-hand, were led the short distance to the Thrallian camp located in the center of Krykul Forest. Disguised as a priestess, Aelina fondly greeted them. She gathered them around her and informed them that Krom was responsible for their fate. She told them that the god had commanded her to marry them. Although she had thrown a tantrum over her father's trickery, the goddess had reluctantly agreed to officiate.

Marissa and Garth were married in front of their assembled people. Then, Aelina anointed them the new king and queen of Thrallia. When the others were joined in wedlock, they celebrated with a sumptuous feast of roast boar and kegs of beer, provided by Aelina's fairies. The dying sun witnessed the woods erupting in merriment as the nuptials danced and drank the night away. Later that evening, lusty grunting from darkened tents disturbed the forest's denizens.

"May peace reign over this land," said Aelina, when the last drunken newlyweds had staggered through their tent flaps. Then she leaped upon her huge eagle for her flight home. "At least most of the time," she chuckled to herself, remembering how thrilling the battle was.

At daybreak, the groggy former foes sniffed a putrid odor emanating from the warming ghastly field. They vaguely remembered about a war they had fought there. Fortunately, they also believed that they were allies and not enemies.

Their regents ordered them to prepare a huge funeral. The couples piled the corpses on mounds of boughs. After lighting gigantic bonfires, they all sang mournful laments for their slain comrades. They assumed that the opposition had removed their dead before fleeing.

Refusing any help, Marissa built a pyre just for Tayla. Her freshly scrubbed body was clad in fresh armor and had a new sword clasped to her chest. She took a flaming torch from a woman and touched it to the dry twigs.

"I wanted you to dance at my wedding--not to die so young," she moaned, pouring wine onto the crackling body and intoning a farewell prayer.

Thanks to Aelina's last-minute intervention, Marissa's memory had been less effected than the others. The princess remembered the price that she would have to pay for freedom. But why did the bloodthirsty deity have to take Tayla, too? She tried to fling herself on the fire but was restrained in time.

By late afternoon, only burning embers. Supervised by Marissa and Garth, the men and women loaded their ox-carts for their journey to Thrallia's capital. An owl fluttered into a nearby oak. It hooted twice, attracting the princess's attention.

Marissa scanned the swaying branches and thought that she spotted a familiar bird. The fowl swooped to the base of the gnarled trunk. Her eyes followed the predator's flight. She gasped, confounded by what only she could observe.

"Tayla?" she whimpered, gazing at a sword-wielding specter poised on the grass.

"Enjoy your happiness while you can, Queen Marissa. The gods are fickle--peace today, war tomorrow," the ghost smirked. Lightning streaked from Tayla's upraised blade and her eyes blazed like torches. "You will wear armor and carry a sword again, my friend--so will your daughter." Marissa shivered as the unearthly vision laughed and slowly faded away.