An Oath to Mida

17 A sign is fashioned—and a final warning given

I know not how many feyd passed as I lay in delirium, or, in truth, if feyd passed at all. Perhaps no more than hind passed as I lay curled upon furs, my body aflame with agony, my mind near to madness. When sight returned to my eyes there were slave-males about, true slaves with fear in their eyes, apology clear in their movements. They brought wet cloths to bathe my brow, fanned me with feathers half the size of the males themselves, fetched tall pots called flagons filled with daru. This latter I attempted to drink, to soothe the rawness screaming had brought to my throat, yet my insides would not hold it. Spasms threw it back to the floor, beyond the furs, then darkness took me again, a soothing darkness in which my mind did no more than weep.

Sight came again after a time, bringing greater knowledge of the room I lay in. Large it was, nearly the size of Mida’s, draped in many shadows of green, predominantly Hosta green. I stirred upon the furs beneath me, finding little strength, knowing more than a shadow of the pain I had been given. My body ached, both inside and out, yet my mind ached more with the memory of what the thing called Sigurr had done. He had taken his price fully, causing me shame and humiliation and fear as well as pain. He had done things which, had they been done before my capture by males, would have driven me mad. I had been used, and made to serve, and used again and again to heal an unnatural need, one even larger than that felt by males filled with sthuvad drug. I knew not how long a time I had spent in red agony, nor would I ever know. The thing was endless as it went, unforgettable in its aftermath.

I stirred again upon the furs, turning my head here and there, seeing the male slaves ranged upon their knees before a side wall, heads deferentially down, shoulders bowed, eyes upon the floor before them, bodies draped in scanty cloth of green which failed to cover that which made them male. Had I need of one, I had only to summon him with word or gesture. That had been whispered to me when first I had opened my eyes, wildly fearful, much in pain, prepared to continue screaming. The sight of such slavey males sickened me, yet relief was there beside the illness; had the males been free and proud, I could not have faced them.

Two hands of reckid and more passed as I lay upon the furs, my thoughts darting about here and there, touching my time with Sigurr fleetingly, lightly, as one would touch tongue to mouth sore, testing to see if pain remained. At last I could bear the shock of testing no longer, therefore did I turn to one side and force myself to sitting, using strength of arm to keep myself so. Dizziness touched me, whirling round and round in brief sport, then did it go elsewhere to bedevil another. I had no true wish to examine my body, yet when I moved to pull my hair from beneath me, my eyes found the bruises which marked me well. Upon breasts and thighs and belly were they, round and black and set within my flesh to show how he had touched me, that god of males. The slave males had been about washing me when I had first awakened, yet I felt the need to bathe in deep, clear streams, full with scrubbing sand, far from the caves I sat in.

And then my eyes were drawn to the life sign I had worn since first I had become a warrior, the life sign I had carved with my own hands from the tree which had been marked as mine at my birth. The sign of the hadat hung between my breasts as ever it had done, its lines full familiar to my eyes, yet no longer made of wood, stained in enemy blood. It had now become like Mida’s Crystals, light and clear as dream substance, filled with uneasy roiling. I stared at the gray, swirling mists, disbelieving the sight of my eyes, and then the swirling changed of its own, growing deeper and more throbbing, till at last it turned and moved in blackness. My eyes closed as I nearly shuddered but I felt a great leadenness, an understanding of how deeply I had been fouled. Sigurr breathed within my life sign, soiling my soul as he had soiled my body, marking me as his for all to see. This, then, was the sign he and Mida had spoken of, the sign of his touch upon me. I lay again upon the fur, curled up tight in a ball, all feelings of fear and loathing numb within me. Sigurr had become a part of me and would remain so forevermore.

Some time later a golden haze began forming not far from me, speaking, I knew, of Mida’s impending arrival. I considered continuing to lie as I was, then thought better of it and sat upon the fur. When Mida had formed completely within the mist, her lovely golden eyes moved closely all about me.

“I see you have returned to yourself,” said she, her voice light and lovely and concerned. “Have you memory of that which was done to you?”

“I have memory of it.” I nodded, holding her gaze. “His price was met.”

“And withstood,” she murmured, a strange glow touching her. “His sign and mine you now find on you, showing our approval, our confidence, our acceptance of you. More, Sigurr finds himself taken with you, in a manner of speaking. Never before has a mortal female given him such strength, such release. Should you survive the raising of his warriors and the following battle, I believe he will seek you again.”

“What more might he do that has not already been done?” I shrugged, truly unconcerned. Pain is pain, to be borne in silence; one’s soul may be tainted no more than once.

“Perhaps he may do a thing never before done,” said she, again in a murmur, then passed to other matters before I might ask her meaning. “When you leave here, you will first come upon my Midanna, led to the land of males by the Keeper Rilas, as yet unsure of what their actions should be. You will find them in the vicinity of Bellinard, for there comes the first work to your hand. The strangers will appear not far from Bellinard, and the city must be ours when they do. The males who dwell there would give up whatever asked for.”

“In fear,” I nodded, recalling the look of the male called High Seat in that—city. “They are of a low sort, to be easily taken by warriors.”

“Good,” said she. “In that city, now held captive by them, are certain Sigurri warriors. It is these warriors who will guide you to their brothers who must be returned to the city you will then hold. From there may the final battle be faced.”

Again I nodded, then leaned back in the fur upon one elbow. “So the Hosta were given into capture by males to allow Jalav to lead all the Midanna,” I said, watching Mida carefully. “Jalav herself was given to males to breed hate within her for the selfsame males. All was done with this final battle in mind.”

“Certainly,” smiled Mida, pleased with the understanding I had attained. “Jalav is my finest warrior, most beloved of my daughters. How might I have chosen another?”

“How, indeed?” I murmured, seeing all most clearly. Mida had placed me among males to learn hatred of them, yet it had only been memory of these meant-to-be-hated males that had kept me from madness at Sigurr’s hands. Memories of gentleness and laughter, care and comfort had held me during terror and pain, bolstering me to face the devastation of my soul. Never would I feel the hate Mida had wished for, not for those males, yet I remained bound in blood to Mida—and Sigurr as well. It would be foolishness to dwell upon what feelings I had for them.

“When may I leave this chamber to walk about your keep?” I asked, returning my gaze to Mida. “I would see what there is to see before my departure.”

“You may leave as soon as you are able,” smiled Mida, gathering her golden mist about her. “I will have guides awaiting you in the corridor without your door. We will speak again before you depart.”

The mists thickened, masking her smile, and soon she and her mists were gone once more. The male slaves, upon their knees by the wall, had put their heads to the floor at Mida’s appearance, straightening again only when her mists were gone. I gestured to one, telling him to bring provender, then slowly levered myself to my feet. Movement remained an ache and an effort, yet was it necessary that I ignore such things. Once again was I Jalav, war leader of Midanna, soon to face attack and battle. In battle there is room for thought of naught else.

A glance about the chamber showed my breech neatly folded by my fur boots, most likely returned to me by Mida and prepared against my need by the slaves. I went to don both, and only then saw clearly what lay beyond them, upon the fur of the floor. With breech in place and boots upon my feet, I bent to that which I had been too long without: a silver handled dagger complete with leg bands, and a leather scabbarded, silver-hilted sword. I drew the blade from its sheath to examine it, and found it to be an exact mate to the dagger; both were made of pale gold metal, chased with deep-set strokes of black. The strokes spoke no letter I had learned, yet did I feel they spoke in another tongue, one I had no knowledge of. It was a matter to be considered, yet of no real moment. The slave returned with the provender I had requested, therefore did I turn my attention to filling the hollow within me.

When I was done with feeding, I rose to my feet to consider the slaves. They knelt as they had earlier, beside the wall, heads bowed till they might be needed. A full hand of them were there, well-made males broad in the shoulder and chest, tall and seemingly strong, yet with fear and trembling clear in their eyes when those eyes dared to look upon me. What thing had taken their manhood from them I knew not, and though it continued to sicken me to look upon them, there was a manner in which they might serve me other than in obeying my commands. I chose two, one dark of hair and eye, the second red-gold haired and pale of eye, and with them following obediently behind me, left the chamber.

Without the door stood three dark-haired females, each clad in breech and boots of leather, each with sword at hip, each with hair as long as mine. They started nervously when I appeared, dark eyes going large and round, each straightening where she stood in an attempt to match my height. None of them was within a hand of her called Vanin, therefore did they fail in their attempt to match me. I looked upon them more directly than they looked upon me, wondering if their boots hid dagger and leg bands as mine did, and one of their set found courage enough to face me.

“We are here to guide you, war leader,” said she, a girlish quaver in her voice, her hands nervously before her. “Will you follow us?”

“No,” I denied, unable to cover my displeasure with the three. “A war leader does not follow. You are of those who call themselves warriors?”

The females behind she who spoke exchanged fear-filled glances, yet the female before me did not join them. Much did she seem numb with fear, unable to do more than nod woodenly. The disgust in my expression caused them all to cringe, so much like the male slaves who stood silently behind me that I felt a growl rising to my throat.

“Show me where those who were taken with me are being kept,” I said before I might further frighten these children who played at being warriors. Indeed were they the pets Mida had spoken of, too long kept in safety and comfort, far from the harshness of true battle.

“At once, war leader,” nodded the female before me, tripping upon her words and her own feet in her haste to obey. She and the other two moved carefully past me, to my right, glancing quickly at the male slaves behind me, then made their way up the corridor in which they had waited. The corridor was smooth, pressed stone, black and white with gold, floor, walls and ceiling. I walked to a wall and touched my fingers to it, feeling a coolness unmatched by the warmth of the air. The three females waited the same number of paces ahead of me, the two male slaves followed obediently after, all wondering why I sought to learn what thing it was which made the walls of that keep, none speaking of their curiosity. Had they been warriors they would not have wondered, yet had they been warriors, I would not have acted as openly as I did. After a moment I moved toward the females, and they, again in haste, once more took up the task given them.

Through the corridor we moved, passing many doors, till at last we came to its end, where it moved through a doorless doorway and widened into a large cavern, wherein stood perhaps four hands more of females such as those who guided me. The females held sword and shield, facing each other in pairs, one of each pair attacking with sword the shield of the other. The smell of sword oil came clearly to me, that and the smell of sweat, and those who walked before me paused to look upon their sisters.

“It is here that we practice and perfect the use of swords, war leader,” said she who had spoken earlier. “We are proud of our skill, and proud to have you witness our efforts.”

“Pride should be kept for that which merits it,” I said, looking from one to the other of pairs of females. “They do well in attack upon shields, hacking and swinging in true abandon. Have they never been told that the object is to reach the flesh of she who stands behind the shield?”

“I—I do not understand,” stumbled the girl, her eyes again widened. “We have been taught to keep our opponents behind their shields, to prevent the use of the swords they hold.”

“Till one or the other of you falls from hunger and thirst?” I demanded. “What if you and your opponent hold no shield? Do you then attack an imaginary shield? Pah! True warriors are long blooded by your age, having both taken and lost blood in true battle. None here could hope to stand before the least and youngest of Hosta, not to speak of the puniest of males. Let us continue before I lose that which I have fed upon.”

The shaken female nodded, her lip atremble as though she held back tears, and we passed from that place into another corridor, one which led downward. Torches stood upon the walls in all of these corridors, burning steadily, giving the air a strange smell as though sunlight were unknown there. I felt a great anger within me, as though I had been gulled out of that which I had ever considered mine, yet I kept my mind to the odor of the air, my disgust for the male slaves, my impatience with those who dared call themselves warriors. The place was not one where unbridled thought was wise, not if I wished to ride free on my way again.

Three further hands of reckid were filled with walking, and then we came to a widening of the corridor which did not become a chamber. Of a sudden there were doorways to either side of the corridor, doorways closed off with lines of metal, much like those rooms in the dwelling of the High Sea of Ranistard. I could see, behind the lines of metal, males and females of the set with which I had traveled, males to the left, females to the right, three to each enclosure. The females sat huddled together with sobs much in evidence, the males stood with fists clenched in anger, yet all broke off their doing at my appearance, coming forward to stare in silence. As my eyes swept them the females shrank back with gasps, they having noticed my guides and the slaves who dogged my steps. The males growled low to each other, displeased at what they saw, yet I cared little for what they thought. It was others I had come to find, and those others were not far. Four enclosures farther on, I found those I had been seeking.

Unsurprisingly Telion, Lialt and Ceralt were enclosed together. Ceralt lay upon furs, cloth bound about his body, his face pale from loss of blood, yet he lived. Wounded and unconscious, prisoner to those about him, yet his life had been reclaimed. Lialt sat by his side, ever vigilant for the least change in breathing, the least stirring of limbs, his face lined from lack of sleep. Telion sat apart from the two, back against a wall, knee up to support an arm which in turn supported his head. At my appearance Lialt and Telion looked up, then rose quickly to their feet to come to the metal.

“Jalav, where have you been?” demanded Telion, circling two lines of metal with his fists. “We thought you taken and forever lost!”

“And yet, here I stand,” said I, meeting the male’s eyes. “Mida wished to speak with her warrior, therefore was I taken from your midst. Her powers are strong for one who is only—how did you call it?”

“A superstition,” Telion ground out, teeth clenched in anger, light eyes flaring. “I see she has done well by the one who has ever remained faithful.”

“Perhaps not so well as all that,” said Lialt, eyes amove about me. “What caused those bruises upon you, Jalav? You seem badly used for one who is a favorite.”

“The bruises are naught.” I shrugged, stepping closer to the metal. “I see your wounds have been tended to.”

“Indeed.” Lialt nodded, his eyes continuing to hold to me. “Even Ceralt moves farther from the dark gateway with every breath he takes. Perhaps there is that in the air here which promotes healing.”

“Yet, it is not merely healing which we require,” said Telion, drawing my eyes. “We also require our freedom, Jalav. Is there naught a favorite of the goddess may do to accomplish this? Have you forgotten so soon how close a bond we share?”

His voice had softened with the disappearance of his anger, and abruptly one hand left the metal to draw me close, while the other moved to caress my breast. Much did I expect my flesh to melt and harden at his touch, just as he expected the same, yet the expected did not occur. My flesh remained as it had been, cool both without and within, and after some reckid, Telion removed his hands from me in confusion. I, too, had no understanding of what had caused the change, yet the meaning was clear: no longer was my flesh slave to any male who touched me, no longer theirs to do with as they pleased. Perhaps it had been the touch of Sigurr, shriveling my senses as well as my soul; should that be so, it was the one thing for which I might feel well pleased.

“Apparently the bond no longer exists,” Lialt observed, searching for signs that he was in error. “I feel sure, Telion, that she has not come to free us.”

“You are correct,” I said, stepping back farther from the metal. “We are destined to meet again, male, yet the time will be when you, too, are able to take weapon in hand. Jalav has not forgotten your doings, nor shall she ever forget them. Should you wish to see what the future holds for you, look here.”

I turned from them then to the male slaves I had brought, gesturing them to their knees before me. With my finger pointing downward I bade them press their heads to the floor, clearly marking them as slaves chained to my bidding. I looked again upon Telion and Lialt, who stood behind the metal thin-lipped with rage, and smiled a smile of challenge.

“Such is the fate which you shall find, should we ever meet again,” I informed them. “When that one awakens, give him the greeting of Jalav, war leader of all the Midanna, and bid him return to his simple village and the life he once knew. Jalav shall see to the coming strangers with warriors of worth, warriors who well know the spilling of blood. Should we ever meet again, there will be swords drawn between us.”

I ordered the slaves to their feet again, then turned and walked away, much aware of eyes upon me. Telion and Lialt had been warned away, and Ceralt, too, would be given my message. I felt anxious to be about the work before me, yet felt, deep within me, the loss of the male called Ceralt, he who had come to mean so much. Not again would I know his arms about me, not again would I feel the ecstasy of his touch. Were Mida to discover my true feelings for the male, his life would be taken as easily as it had been saved. My life was Mida’s, as was my sword, and naught in all the world would take me from her service save death, which, I knew, would not be easily attained. I retraced my steps up the corridor, my hand arest upon the silver hilt of my sword, knowing death—and peace—would be difficult to find indeed.