Chosen of Mida

13 The Shining Sands—and an impostor is revealed

“See the manner in which he stands,” said Chaldrin, speaking of the male who faced two others like him to one side of the circle of black sand. Beyond the farthest male were daggers, beyond the daggers swords beyond the swords crescent spears. The three males fought a bout of elimination, the sort of battle I had already seen twice that fey.

“His balance allows him to move immediately in any direction, and his balance is due to his stance,” pursued Chaldrin. “He is the most promising of the nestlings, and will one fey have the skills to equal a warrior—should he live.”

Again I made no reply to his words, merely looking about at the city folk who shouted and screamed and stamped their feet high above the countless torches which lit the circle of sand. Fully half of the upper cavern beyond the circle of black sand had been stepped to look down upon the combatants, and upon these steps sat hand upon hand of Sigurri, male and female alike. At their front, surrounded by warriors, sat a male who wore a long black covering—and a golden mask.

“You have sulked about for two feyd now,” said Chaldrin, turning to look down upon me with faint impatience in his dark eyes. “My loss to you was of greater consequence than your loss to Aysayn; do you see me sulking about like a child, refusing to speak to those about me?”

“Your loss was not one of dignity,” I replied, beginning to turn from him. “Sooner would I have lost lifeblood.”

“Indeed,” said he, taking my arm in his great hand. “I am the foremost fighter in these Caverns, never having been bested by any since my arrival. What dignity is there in having been bested by a wench and one who would have taken my life had she not been halted by others?” He paused a moment to allow his question to hang between us then put another. “Do you mean to deny us your swordarm when we stand in defense of the Shadow? We know not what we will face, yet are we sure to require your aid. Do you mean to refuse to stand with us?”

“You dare to speak of requiring my sword?” I demanded, attempting to pull my arm from his grip. “Was it not you who first pointed out what small use a sword was against those of true skill? Was it not Aysayn himself who reached beyond my blade to defeat me? Do to those who come what was done to me, and victory will surely be yours.”

“Do not attempt to pull against my hand to free yourself,” said Chaldrin, frowning at my struggles. “Instead, swing away from the hand and through the fingers. Use your body weight and movement to assist you. And we cannot hope to defeat those who come with unarmed skills alone. Too few of the men in these precincts have chosen to stand with us, therefore will we require weapons of our own, as well as those to wield them. Will you fight at our side?”

“An excellent question,” came the voice of Aysayn, and then the male himself appeared out of the dimness of the corridor which led to the masked opening in the rock we stood at, one of more than two hands of such openings which led to the fighting sands. “As the battle of the Shining Sands is next,” said he as he halted before us, “and I am to fight in the following bout, a reply now would be most timely.”

“Perhaps she feels entitled to words of regret,” said Chaldrin, looking upon the other male with sobriety. “To use a free woman so—ah—freely, undoubtedly grates upon her sense of dignity. ”

“Is this so?” asked Aysayn, sending his dark-eyed gaze to me. He had surely been loosening his body in practice, for sweat covered him and his light hair reached for his eyes. “Perhaps it would be best to ask by whose pardon she was freed,” said he. “I have never heard of a single victory setting a male fighter free.”

“Aysayn, such caviling is not wise,” began Chaldrin, yet I held my hand up to halt his words.

“What he speaks is truth,” said I to Chaldrin, recalling my own thoughts upon the selfsame subject, then did I turn to Aysayn. “In these precincts a single victory does indeed mean naught, however I would have Sigurr’s Shadow recall the fact that Jalav was never slave—merely a captive. Under those circumstances, a pardon was unnecessary from any source.”

“Excellent,” said Aysayn, laughter in his eyes. “I do indeed recall the fact of your captivity rather than slavehood, and therefore stand corrected. And yet, I cannot speak words of regret for having used you. Ask of me words of pleasure and praise, and I will gladly speak them; words of regret would be lies, and I will not lie. You are more than worth the taking, wench, and this I will maintain whether you stand with me or no.”

“Honesty is to be admired,” said Chaldrin as I gazed silently upon Aysayn. “We must keep that truth firmly in mind when our handful go down before the warriors of the impostor.”

“Ah, Chaldrin, I find myself fond of you despite all,” laughed Aysayn, reaching past me to clap the other male upon the shoulder. “Your use of her was more extensive than mine; will you speak words of regret?”

“Certainly,” agreed the other male, folding his arms across his chest. “I deeply regret the need to have spent two feyd upon my furs unable to claim her again. As we are soon to die, I, too, shall indulge in honesty.”

The two males laughed together, sharing a common amusement, yet I had ceased giving them heed and had returned to examining the distant form of the male in the golden mask. He sat at ease upon his step, watching the doings of those upon the sand, seemingly pleased when Chaldrin’s nestling threw his dagger into the thigh of one of his opponents, then turned and made for the swords. Those others all about the masked male screamed out their delight, and when the furor faded to less than it had been, a hand came to my shoulder.

“Perhaps words of regret would not be out of place after all,” said Aysayn, his amusement apparently done. “It was not our intention to make sport of you, wench, and I would offer my apologies for any insult given. You do not merit insult.”

“Again you are mistaken,” said I, turning to look upon him. “I do indeed merit insult, for I have been inexpressibly foolish, sightless beyond words. So great was my pride in my ability with a sword, I thought myself undefeatable by cause of it. To have learned the truth was a bitter blow, and one I shall not forget. ”

I attempted to move past him into the corridor he had come from yet this time Chaldrin’s hand was upon my shoulder.

“So that was the dignity you spoke of,” said he, his voice returned to calm. “The dignity lost when one is defeated in the area one has the greatest pride in. It should not be necessary to speak of this to you, wench, yet you were not defeated sword to sword. Had you been, your bitterness would be understandable; as you were not you need only concern yourself with learning the discipline which was your bane. Should I survive the coming battle I will be pleased to school you in its tenets.”

“Yet what of the battle itself?” I stormed, turning upon him with the fury which had so twisted me about those past two feyd. “How might I presume to bare a blade against my enemies, when that blade may be so easily taken from me? Am I to continue in vanity, and allow those who fight at my side to fall through my failure? Am I to lead others into the final darkness, when only I so richly merit it?”

I twisted past him to stare again at the figure in the golden mask, my need for enemy blood so strong that I would have willingly taken it with my teeth. In what other way was I to spill the blood of my enemies, with the truth so achingly clear in my memory?

“Jalav, I find myself nearly at a loss for words,” said Aysayn, something of upset to be heard in his tone. “You spoke of how easily the blade was taken from you—you must pardon me, wench, for I recall no such easy accomplishment. When it was done, even Chaldrin spoke of the number of times you nearly had me. Your skill has not been bested by any swordsman I have yet come upon.”

“And even were you the loss and hazard you now believe yourself,” put in Chaldrin, “think you that one blade less would be to our benefit? We are scarcely likely to live through our attempt, and I am sorely tempted to lock you in slave chains to insure your survival, yet do I feel that survival as a slave would be worse than death for you. We but offer you your freedom again, wench, in one manner or another.”

I continued to gaze upon the golden-masked male for a moment, then I turned to look upon the two who stood behind me. Their eyes were filled with the calm of truth, and it was not difficult to nod in agreement.

“Very well,” said I, looking first upon Chaldrin and then upon Aysayn. “As you merely seek a death with dignity, I will raise my sword beside yours. And should Mida grant me more than a moment’s use of it, we may not march to the final darkness unescorted.”

“I do not mean to march there under any circumstances save that Sigurr himself comes before me and demands it,” said Aysayn with a short laugh. “It is barely possible that Ladayna means to best me with no more than her concept of a superior warrior.”

“Even were that so,” said Chaldrin, a quick grimace crossing his features, “it is scarcely likely to be all that is attempted. I feel sure that Jalav will have considerably more than the moment she wishes.”

“Undoubtedly we will all have the same,” said Aysayn, looking more closely upon Chaldrin. “And should you wish your own way with the foe, brother, it would be wise of you to rest a few reckid. Your strength has not yet returned in its entirety.”

“For which I will take Sigurr to task when I face him,” sighed Chaldrin, stepping to one side to lower himself carefully to the stone of the floor. “As I mean to stand in the cause of his rightful Shadow, his continuing anger with me should clearly have been withheld for the time.”

“Continuing anger is rarely withheld, even for a moment,” said Aysayn, and then his eyes came to me. “Truth to tell, I had expected naught save anger from this wench here. Though we meant no insult, our words and actions with her were rather abrupt. Do you feel no burning, justifiable anger toward us, Jalav?”

“For what reason would I waste thought and strength in anger against you?” I asked, unconcerned with the gleam of amusement which lurked in his eyes. “The two of you are merely male, and therefore unable to do other than as you do. Should you ever find yourselves among my Midanna, you will be shown the proper matter of things.”

Aysayn had seemed prepared to find deeper amusement in whatever words I spoke, yet even when I had turned from him to look again upon the fighting sands, his laughter had not rung out. Chaldrin, where he leaned against the stone off the wall, chuckled deeply.

It took no more than another hand of reckid before the male Chaldrin had favored saw to his last opponent. The matter was decided with swords, for neither had been able to reach the waiting crescent spears. Though the first male eliminated had merely been wounded, the second was run through the heart by his opponent when he attempted to press with too much vigor. The body collapsed to the black sand with bedlam sounding all about, and the victor stood with arms and sword held high, his bare, sweat-glistened body proud beneath the acclamation. Then, even before the screaming approval had faded, the male threw his sword to the sand, turned his back upon the fevered throng, and made his way back toward a corridor recess to our left. He paid no mind to the slavies who saw to the wounded and dead beneath the bright glare of torches, yet the slavies shrank back till he had passed on his way.

“He is one of those few fighters I have enlisted to stand with us,” said Chaldrin from where he sat, speaking of the victor he had not had to see claim his victory. “He is an excellent fighter with great potential, and is more than willing to risk his life to regain his freedom.”

“Indeed,” said Aysayn in a thoughtful manner. “He is indeed an excellent fighter. For what reason was he condemned to the Caverns?”

“That is a question we do not ask of those who come,” said Chaldrin, his voice empty of all emphasis. “If we are told, by others or the man himself, the information is allowed to slip from memory. We are concerned only with that which a man does here, not with that which was once done elsewhere.”

“I see,” said Aysayn, a quiet acceptance in the pair of words. No further was said upon the matter, and the Shadow and I returned our attention to the sand.

The two remaining combatants, one living, one gone to the final darkness, were removed from the black sand, along with every one of the weapons. The weapons were taken up by white-clad males, the slavies being forbidden their touching, and then two unclad fighters appeared to the ringing of small, thin-sounding bells. These two had not fought previously, yet their bodies were glistening bright, more so than the sweat of exertion would account for. The two males carried swords, yet they halted perhaps two gando-strides from each other, plunged the points of their swords into the sand, then put themselves into the sand. The two rolled about in the black sea of sand till they were well covered, then did they rise to their feet, reclaim their weapons, and stand at the alert without closing with each other. I knew not why the battle had not begun and was about to remark upon the matter, when the many torches about the Cavern began being covered.

“Watch closely, wench,” said Chaldrin, remaining where he had seated himself. “You will soon see the reason why Treglin and I were able to follow you into the darkness when you first attempted escape.”

I turned from him to look again upon the sands, and felt my frown as the torches, by the hand, were covered with solid metal brackets. The heavy darkness closed in quickly, and only then did Chaldrin’s words come clear. Rather than melt into the darkness, the two males and the black sand they stood upon now glowed as though torches burned within and below. The swords, too, I now saw, were marked with single lines of glowing yellow-white upon each of their sides, from broad hilt to pointed tip. Only the sharpened edges were unmarked, deadly hazards in unseen dark.

“When exposed to the light of torches,” said Chaldrin, “the black sand becomes the Shining Sands, easily seen in deep darkness. That thick mane of yours was well-enough dusted so that Treglin and I were able to follow you with ease. Those two who battle out there will not find a comparable ease, no matter that they are clearly marked for each other.”

I studied the two upon the sand as Chaldrin spoke, and realized that he spoke the truth. Midanna warriors are taught to know the length and breadth of their blades as well as they know the same of their arms. yet the males who now closed with one another to the encouraging screams of unseen onlookers had not been taught the same. They swung clumsily at one another, as though unsure of whether or not the strokes would find their targets, unsure of whether they stood too near or too far, unsure whether they, themselves, would be touched. They moved in hesitation in a small circle, their glowing forms touched with odd gaps where the sand had fallen away, and then one had further sand removed from him by the tip of his opponent’s sword. A gap appeared across the chest of the male, from left shoulder to right ribs, and the male so struck shuddered and staggered backward away from the single glowing line which had touched him with pain. The other, encouraged despite the lack of visible lifeblood, pursued the first and struck at him again, this time attempting a head blow. The blow was more a crushing than a cut, and the first went down beneath it, to return the glowing sand from whence he had taken it. The second turned somewhat and plunged his sword into the first, and the screaming shouts again crescendoed into chaos. As the remaining glowing form raised his arms in victory, the torches began to be unbracketed again.

“And now comes the time for the blasphemer to face his fate,” said Chaldrin, raising himself from the stone of the floor with less agility than usual. “You had best remove that loincloth, Aysayn, else will there be notice taken by those whose notice we wish to avoid.”

“I find the need distasteful, yet you are undoubtedly correct,” said Aysayn, his hands going reluctantly to the white cloth about his loins. “To be forced to go about unclothed is a great humiliation for a man, and highly insulting as well. This should not be.”

“In our domain, it is necessary that all fighters be instantly recognizable should there be difficulty during training,” said Chaldrin. “I also find it extremely demeaning, yet they must be marked in some manner, and this course changes them the least. To be consigned to these Caverns is change enough.”

I turned away from the two as Aysayn grunted his agreement, finding it unnecessary to waste words in comment. That they spoke so showed them as true males, unreasoning and concerned only with self. Had it not been so, they would have seen that their dislikes might perhaps be shared by others.

The vanquished fighter and the victor were gone from the sands in less than two hands of reckid, leaving behind an eager stir and mutter among the watchers. He who sat behind the mask of gold continued to laze negligently, yet an odd stiffness seemed to have entered his body. He gazed out upon the empty sands which had returned to their original black, unconcerned though clearly awaiting the next bout, and it came to me to wonder upon the whereabouts of the female Ladayna. I had hoped to see her there, within reach of dagger or spear; how was I to be sure of surviving the coming battle, to seek her elsewhere?

“In another moment, the spears will be set,” said Chaldrin, watching as two white-clad males carrying crescent spears walked to the center of the sand, then turned with backs to one another and paced away from each other. They continued on till they stood perhaps three gando-strides apart, then did they turn to one another again, thrust the hafts of their spears into the sand, and walk from them toward the crevasse they had entered by. They slowed as they passed the slavey who had been about setting a large oval metal shield into the sand by its rim, waited till he had completed his task, then hurried him out before them. The slave, trembling with fear at being upon the sand, required little urging to depart as quickly as possible.

“You must recall,” said Chaldrin to Aysayn, “that there is a choice before you. You and your opponent will enter the sands at the same distance from the shield, yet will only one of you find it possible to claim it. Should you try for the shield and fail to secure it, you will then be some distance from a weapon, the while your opponent will already have a weapon in his hands—the shield itself. Many an excellent fighter has gone down with the back of his head crushed in, long before a spear was in his reach. At the same time, you must understand that you will find it nearly impossible to keep your opponent from his spear even though you reach yours first.”

“Yes, yes, I am well aware of these things,” said Aysayn, interrupting what had promised to be a lecture of considerable length as he gazed out upon the sands. “The chimes are about to ring, and my presence will be required elsewhere. Before I go, there is a thing I must do.” He left the crevasse opening, strode to the dim corridor he had emerged from, reached within to grope at the right-hand wall, then returned to me. “I return this to you more easily than I took it,” said he, placing a sword in my hands. “Use it with all the skill you possess, and we may yet win free.”

His hand then came to touch my face gently, yet before I was able to speak a word in answer, the tinkling sound came which summoned fighters to the sand. Aysayn lifted a fist toward Chaldrin, kicked his discarded body-cloth aside, then trotted through the crevasse.

“He believes he is aware of his options,” muttered Chaldrin, moving to stand beside me at the opening. “To witness this battle from the seats is not the same as fighting it—which he is about to learn. We had best ask Sigurr to see that he survives the lesson.”

“Ask naught of Sigurr that you are not willing to pay a price for,” I muttered in turn, yet the male made no reply, for a second tinkling had sounded. Aysayn and his opponent had stood upon the sand, awaiting the signal to begin, and when that signal came, each moved immediately with the speed of life-threat—yet each moved differently.

Aysayn’s opponent, with hair as dark as Aysayn’s was light, raced directly for the beckoning shield, while Sigurr’s Shadow set himself for the more distant yet equally beckoning crescent spear—upon the other’s side. Those watching from above gasped out their surprise and delight, yet Chaldrin made a sound of disgust.

“Had he spoken to me of his intentions, the fool, I would have brought the greater distance to his attention,” said he, a bitterness in his voice. “He is quicker than most, that I’ll grant him, yet is he scarcely quick enough to keep his opponent from the second spear. Watch.”

Just as the male spoke, so it came to be. Aysayn’s opponent, divining that something was afoot from the exclamations of the watchers, glanced across to see where the Shadow ran. With scarcely a falter in his stride, he scooped up the shield without slowing, set it upon his left arm as he ran, then made directly for the crescent spear which was to have been Aysayn’s. Aysayn reached the spear which had been his goal, tore it from the sand as he whirled, then ran on no more than five paces before slowing in defeat. The second male, not yet having reached the other spear, had nevertheless run to intercept Aysayn’s line to the spear. He side-stepped and backed in the treacherous sand nearly losing his footing, yet succeeding in keeping the shield and his body toward Aysayn. He had not yet reached the direct line Aysayn would have taken to the second spear, yet had Aysayn pressed the matter, the second would have reached the line before Aysayn reached the spear. I raised one arm to move the heat-dampened hair which clung to my back, and Chaldrin stirred where he stood.

“Hear them howl for blood,” said he, referring to the growing frenzy of the watchers. “They now count Aysayn done, for his opponent all but has both spear and shield in his possession. Should it be Sigurr’s will, they shall find themselves mistaken.”

I, too, felt highly doubtful upon the subject of Aysayn’s position, and my fist tightened about the hilt of the sword I held. The dishonor I had been given might be washed away only in the blood of my enemies, no matter whether I survived or no. Should Aysayn die before full battle was joined by we who waited, there would undoubtedly be no battle.

“The spear is now his,” said Chaldrin, his observation coming but heartbeats before the second male wrapped fist about haft. Aysayn had closed and swung his spear in graceful arcs, attempting the head, feet and arms of his opponent, yet the presence of the shield had shortened and blocked his attempts, allowing the second male to put groping hand to weapon. With a single pull the spear was freed of the sand and lowered, and then it was Aysayn who knocked thrusts away and backed in haste, too concerned with defense to mount an adequate offense. The bodies of the two males glistened nearly as much as those of the two who had rolled in the sand, their grips were precarious upon their weapons by cause of that, and those who watched screamed themselves into frothing madness. The glare of the many torches fought with the natural darkness of the cavern, much as those upon the sands fought.

Perhaps two further hands of reckid passed as the males attempted one another; though it had seemed at first that Aysayn would be quickly done, it soon became apparent that the Shadow was easily the superior of the second male. Had the second not had both spear and shield, he would have been upon the sand at their first exchange. With the added advantage came little more than added life for the male; Aysayn swung, blocked and attacked so swiftly and skillfully that the second was hard put to keep shield up, spear in place, and threatening edge from his body. His occasional spear thrust was able enough, yet over-caution slowed and shortened his attempts which Aysayn was then able to block with the haft of his own weapon.

The end came unexpectedly, for the two males as well as for those who watched. The second male, desperation having entered his movements and stance, abruptly seemed to decide upon a last, equally desperate attempt. He jumped at Aysayn in attack, causing the Shadow to back in proper defense, then himself moved rapidly backward before Aysayn began to counter. The spear which had been held for thrusting was suddenly held for throwing, and just so quickly was it on its way toward its unshielded target, mere paces away.

“Sigurr!” gasped Chaldrin, clutching at the stone of the wall, his exclamation drowned in the rolling screams of the watchers, yet he need not have feared. Aysayn twisted quickly away from the thrown spear, striking out with a two-handed grip upon his own spear as the enemy weapon hurtled past him, sending it away and down before it might approach any more closely than it had. His opponent now stood shielded yet weaponless, a condition which had proven to his opponent’s advantage earlier; clearly did it seem that it would be so again.

And again were we who watched mistaken. Though his opponent was now able to concern himself only with defense, Aysayn seemed abruptly intent upon an end to the bout. He faced the other male and deliberately closed with him, struck at him repeatedly with both blade and haft, then swung far left and immediately back, catching the far edge of the shield with the knob of his spear and driving it away from before the male with the strength of the swing. Disconcerted, fearful, and thrown off balance, the other male staggered backward through the sand, his free arm flailing in vain, for the blade of the crescent spear already swung toward him, following the strike of the knob. Soundlessly the blade passed across the male’s middle, leaving behind it a rapidly widening stream of red, which flowed just as soundlessly toward the sands. The male continued on down toward the sands himself and then lay still, the shield he had won still in place upon his left arm. There was little need to ask whether life remained within him, and the approval of the no-longer-seated watchers echoed and thundered from every wall of the cavern.

“It is now clear why Aysayn has survived as Sigurr’s Shadow,” said Chaldrin, shouting so that he might be heard above the din. “To have the dark god’s approval is important to a man, yet not quite as important as battle skills such as his.”

“Which he will soon require in large measure,” said I, indicating the frenzied gesture of the male in the mask of gold. It was not immediately evident as to whom he gestured toward, and then my fist tightened again upon the hilt I held. Eight lines of knotted leather whispered down from the high reaches, and then black-clad males appeared and descended quickly, hand over hand, filled scabbards slung at their hips. Three males to each leather line appeared, and Chaldrin took his weight from the wall he had leaned upon as Aysayn turned from the still body of his opponent and became aware of his new opponents, some of whom had already reached the sands.

“Two dozen to less than a dozen of ours,” growled Chaldrin, stepping to his left to take up the sword which awaited him. “By their loincloths they are all warriors, yet our fighters are all experienced; we may survive this set-to yet,”

He then led the way onto the sands, signaling with a sweep of his arm that the others who waited at other crevasses were to join us. The watchers high above now buzzed in puzzlement over the unexpected turn of events, yet I paid them no heed as I ran toward those who hastened toward Aysayn. I had not yet grown used to the feel of the coarse body cloth upon me, yet such an unimportant thing would not distract me from the coming battle. The stains upon my honor would be away, and then the final darkness might be faced without regret.

As I had started forward first, I was able to reach Aysayn before the others and stand myself beside him as the black-clad males drew near. The attackers had slowed their forward charge as they approached, giving Aysayn’s gracefully circling crescent spear the respectful distance it merited. Their swords were tight in their fists, the points jerking here and there as they sought an opening in the Shadow’s defensive movement, their leather-clad feet following the same directionless path through the sands. I remained beside Aysayn no more than a moment before moving off again to the right, luring two of the males into following my steps. Surely did I then seem the more desirable target, for I held a sword rather than a spear, and I was clearly no fighter. The males paced me a short distance and then attacked, intending to clear Aysayn’s right of protection, yet the deed was not so easily done. He who stood to my left attempted to spit me, foolishly overextending in the attempt; a step farther to the left and a bit forward brought his throat within reach of my blade, and as he sank to the sands with lifeblood gushing, I was able to face the one to the right with undivided attention. Again did I feel the joy which battle brought, honest battle with honest weapons, and easily did I move in straightforward counter-attack, striking all about before knocking his blade aside and burying my point in his belly. He, too, fell to the sands, and I turned with deep satisfaction to see how the others fared.

All about were white-clad males engaged with black-clad, and easily might it be seen that more black-clad males littered the sands than white. A second look showed me that only black-clad males were down, and then came a thought filled with strangeness: these Sigurri warriors were not so poor that their defeat should have been accomplished so easily. The two I had fought had been scarcely better than ordinary city males, scarcely worth the attentions of a warrior. Aysayn accounted for two together, one to each side of his crescent streak of silver, and he, too, wore a frown. Our forces were clearly victorious, and such a condition met the full approval of none save the wildly shouting watchers. The victory we had hoped for should not have been so easily attained.

And then we turned to see that others now stood upon the sands, below the leather, fully as many as had stood there earlier, yet with a difference. These males began to move toward us with slow deliberation, uninterested in rushing forward as the others had done. These males were warriors in truth rather than in covering only, fresh, able—and fully aware of our numbers and abilities. Those who had been sent first had been used to lure us out and expose our strengths and weaknesses; those who followed were meant to destroy us. He who sat behind the Golden Mask seemed well pleased with his doings; we who stood upon the sands growled our fury.

“Move more closely together and form a circle,” called Chaldrin from where he stood with dripping sword. “We must guard each other’s backs and deny them easy access to us. Do it now!”

The others moved quickly to obey his word, yet I looked upon the advancing males and wondered how many I might slay if I were to attack them before they reached us. How long I stood depended upon Mida’s will, yet how many might be reasonably accounted for? Enough to justify the loss of another sword to those who had circled in defense? Was I able to judge truly when I knew not how those males fought?

“Jalav, come to the circle!” shouted Chaldrin from behind me, interrupting my thoughts. “Should they cut you off from us, they will pause to slay you before continuing on!”

As that would be the logical doing on the part of the attackers, it was clear that Chaldrin spoke the truth. With some reluctance I therefore backed through the sands to the circle, then awaited the arrival of the attackers, which was quick in coming. The torches glinted off their readied swords, as yet unstained with the red which touched ours, and the sands warmed the bottoms of our feet beyond comfort as we waited.

These new attackers were indeed of a higher caliber than the first set. As soon as they were near enough they began to press us, the single fortunate circumstance being that our circle precluded their all being able to approach us at once. Three of their number went down quickly when they attempted to crowd their way forward, one by my sword, and thereafter they faced us singly, the others behind the first line and prepared to step forward should any of their set fall. Swords flickered and danced in all directions, even Aysayn having taken up a blade to use in place of his spear in the restricted area of the circle, the watchers thundered screams and shouts to echo from the walls, and all seemed much like a dream sent by the dark god to liven his existence and darken ours.

Those of us in the circle, two hands of males and myself, quickly found our strength being drained through the deliberate actions of the attackers. Bathed in sweat, there was naught for us to do save stand our ground, even when the attackers stood turn and turn about against us. Then before our swords tired, he gestured to the male behind him and was immediately replaced so that he might catch his breath and renew himself. When this was done before me for the second time, I quickly slashed left and then charged the retreating male, catching both the circle male on my left and he who retreated, unawares. The two went down as I backed to the circle again, and not again was the warrior before me replaced in so off-hand a manner.

Two of our number went down nearly together, and we who remained were pressed even harder. Chaldrin, who stood to my right, showed red upon the cloth about his ribs, yet not from the warriors we faced. His visage was pale and glistening, strain showing clearly, yet he continued to stand his ground. It seemed equally clear that we could not stand much longer, and I determined that I would charge forward through their ranks when Chaldrin fell, making a final effort toward taking as many of the enemy with me as possible to the final darkness. My left arm throbbed from the slice I had taken at some time, my hand slick with the slowly running blood, and it would be foolish to wait till I no longer had the strength to move as I would.

And then groaning sounded from those who stood farther about the circle to my right. Needing to know what was afoot, I stole a quick glance in that direction, then intensified my efforts to down the male before me. He, also having seen the sudden, on-the-run arrival of fresh black-clad males, backed and spent his efforts upon defense. The new males poured from the crevasses, obviously having come through the caverns, and our efforts were surely done. The group of attackers about our circle withdrew and massed together, prepared to charge against us from one side as the newcomers came from the other. At Chaldrin’s hissed commands we flattened our circle to two back-to-back lines, determined to resist till we fell, yet the attack never came.

“Hold!” came a voice from among the newcomers, a voice which somehow seemed familiar. “In the name of Sigurr, I command you to hold where you are!”

“Who commands in the name of Sigurr?” demanded a male from the earlier attack, moving forward a single step as he spoke. “We are here in the name of Sigurr, obedient to the commands of his Shadow.”

“It is not Sigurr’s Shadow whom you obey,” said the first voice, now much nearer behind me. I felt a great desire to turn and look upon him yet my strength was ebbing and I dared not take my eyes from those males before me. “He who sits behind the Golden Mask is an impostor, a would-be usurper. The true Shadow is among these men, sent here so that you might slay him all unknowing. As you know me, so must you know that I speak the truth.”

“Aye, I know you now,” allowed the second male, clearly filled with confusion as he gazed upon the other. “Never before has there been doubt cast upon the word of he who wears the Golden Mask, and I know not what to do. I have also never before doubted the word of Sigurr’s Sword.”

Mehrayn! Despite all, I turned then to look behind me, and it was truly he who stood there. Broad and red-haired, sword held in one large fist, his eyes touched me for the briefest instant and then looked again toward the male he spoke with.

“The matter may be settled to the satisfaction of all,” said Mehrayn. “Though you, unlike I, do not know the face behind the Mask, you know well enough whose face it cannot be. Let us look behind the Mask, and see what we will see.”

“Too late, brother,” said Aysayn, from where he stood, a number of paces to my left. “He who sat above is no longer there. ”

We all of us turned to look upward, and Aysayn had spoken truly. He in the Golden Mask no longer sat among the now-silenced throng who had shouted so lustily just a short while earlier. A growl of anger arose from some of those who had stood encircled with us, and he who had spoken for the black-clad attackers turned again to Mehrayn.

“Never would the true Shadow behave so!” said the male with anger, his free fist clenched. “Never would he send warriors forth to do battle, and then fail to remain to assist in the outcome, should he be required! I need not see whose face is behind the Mask to know him for the impostor he is!”

A rumbling growl of agreement came from those who stood behind him, and those swords which had continued to seek hungrily in our direction were lowered at last. My sword remained as it had been, as did many another upon our line, yet Aysayn lowered his point and stepped forward.

“You have my thanks for those words, warrior,” said he, looking upon the male with a warm smile which he then sent to the others as well. “You all have filled me with great joy, to know that you have come against me in ignorance rather than deliberation. There is only one author at whose feet our ills may be laid. Shall we pursue him?”

“Aye!” rang from many voices all about, with swords raised high to underscore the word. He who led the attackers stepped briskly forward to raise his sword hilt upward to Aysayn, followed immediately by the others of his males who did the same. Beside me, Chaldrin went to one knee with a grunt, his head hanging from the fatigue and pain which rode him.

“I thought never to take an unlabored breath again,” said he, looking up as I crouched where I had stood. “For one so poor with a sword as you, you gave a good account of yourself, girl. You undoubtedly took nearly as many as I.”

“I took more,” said I with a glance at him, “yet only by cause of the presence of your sword when my back was unprotected. Were you female, male, I would proudly call you sister.”

Silence touched him for a moment, then he said most gravely, “It has become most clear that you are chosen by the gods, wench. My sword was meant to aid you, and shall do so forever more. It is the will of the gods.”

His dark eyes held to me with deep calm, declaring the truth of the words he had spoken, and I knew not what words I had yet come across, making it difficult for a warrior to know how she was to deal with them. I became overly aware of the discomforting warmth of the sand beneath my feet, and then another presence happily came to interrupt the awkwardness of the moment.

“Jalav, how badly are you hurt?” demanded Mehrayn, crouching to my left and reaching for my blood-streaked arm. “You should not have involved yourself in this; the battle was not yours. ”

“So you are more closely acquainted with Sigurr’s Sword than you spoke off,” said Chaldrin as I stiffened against the flash of pain brought by Mehrayn’s touch upon my arm. “I find myself unsurprised. As to your comment, O Sword of Sigurr, the battle was as much hers as ours, for she, too, fought for freedom. And without her presence, there would have been far fewer of us remaining erect to greet you upon your arrival.”

“Which should have been sooner,” growled Mehrayn, displeased with the deep slice I had taken, yet unable to do aught for it. There was not even so much as a cloth about to bind it, and I had gestured his hands from me in impatience with the useless pain he gave. Mehrayn was displeased with my decision as well, yet he made no attempt to go counter to it.

“Your arrival was considerably better than no arrival at all,” said Aysayn as he came up to place a hand upon Mehrayn’s shoulder where he crouched before me. “To take you to task for being tardy would be the act of a fool. Shall we go now to seek out he who attempted to stand in my place? After we have settled with him you may tell me how you happen to be here at all.”

“Which is an interesting tale in itself,” nodded Mehrayn, rising to his feet. “I would suggest first, however, that you find cloth to cover your body with. We would not wish our mission of vengeance halted by cause of your being attacked by the fair ladies of this city. Their appetites for victors of the Sands are more than well known.”

“At another time, I would consider it my duty to grant them their demands,” laughed Aysayn with sparkling eyes. “As we have already taken enough time before setting off in pursuit, I will adopt your suggestion immediately. Chaldrin, remain here and see to those who were wounded, yourself and Jalav included. I will return as soon as I have tended to the last of this business.”

“Jalav, too, has business elsewhere,” said I, rising immediately from my crouch. “Should the male Aysayn find difficulty in agreeing to this, he may recall that he continues to hold sword in hand.”

“And Treglin will see to those who are wounded,” said Chaldrin, rising somewhat more slowly than had I. “This business was begun together, and will end the same.”

Mehrayn made no comment as Aysayn looked upon Chaldrin and myself, yet his expression was frowning confusion where Aysayn’s was frustrated indecision. And then the indecision melted away, and Aysayn stood the straighter.

“You both have been loyal in my defense, and I shall be equally loyal in return,” said he, looking now toward Chaldrin. “Jalav, continuing for the most part in good health, may join us. As for you, friend Chaldrin, despite your indomitable will, you are all but falling from your feet. I will not permit you to go longer untended, and you may look upon that as a command from Sigurr’s Shadow. I intend having you beside me during our victory feast, not beside Sigurr. Remain here till Treglin sends those who will aid you.”

He turned and strode away then, taking Mehrayn with him, disallowing all argument from an outraged Chaldrin. I followed quickly along to avoid any further discussion, relieved to see that we moved toward the crevasses leading to corridors rather than the knotted leather leading to the watchers’ steps. I would not have allowed myself to be left behind, yet climbing leather so high with no sheath for my sword and my left arm as it was would have been difficult.

Aysayn paused no longer than the moment it took to retrieve his body cloth and urge Treglin to see quickly to Chaldrin, then we led the large group of black-clad males from the caverns. Mehrayn also paused briefly, for he had found a cloth with which to bind my arm, and insisted upon doing so. I allowed the doing with a good deal of impatience, yet spoke no word which would have given him insult. The concern the male felt was clear, yet he had made no attempt to keep me from that which I felt was necessary. These males continued to fill me with confusion, but happily there was little time to ponder the point.

When we reached it, we saw that the large metal door from the Caverns stood well open. In the small cavern beyond the door were others of Mehrayn’s males, standing above the still forms of those who had brought us word from the attempted usurper. Mehrayn ordered them to remain at their post, then turned to Aysayn.

“We must offer our thanks to your enemy for having sent his men here,” said he, gesturing to those who lay sprawled upon the sand-covered rock. “Had they not put their leather in the door to keep it ajar, we would not have been able to enter.”

“We will thank him in the most appropriate manner possible,” returned Aysayn, taking a tighter grip upon his sword hilt. “Let us take torches and hasten to the doing of it.”

Many of the males took torches, and then we traversed the darkness to the steps which led upward. Up and up we climbed, each wrapped in the silence of thought, my own silence touched with pain and growing fatigue as well. The white cloth wrapped about my left arm was no longer white, and it was necessary to thrust the awareness of it from me. Had I allowed myself to dwell upon the wound, I might well have slid to the steps I climbed and not moved again for quite some time.

After an eternity of climbing, there were at last no further steps. Mehrayn led the way with Aysayn through the corridors of the large dwelling, gesturing back those black-clad males who attempted to step in our way. From one corridor to the next did we walk, gathering many who followed to see what we were about, at last appearing before the doors which led to the chambers of Aysayn and Ladayna. Those black-clad males who stood before the doors frowned at sight of Aysayn, yet Mehrayn and the others quickly explained the truth of the matter. Within reckid we were through the doors, led by those who had first attempted to bar our entrance, making straight for the doors to Aysayn’s apartment—and then through.

The chamber we entered was large and entirely untenanted, as were the next two which Aysayn led us through. Greater and greater anger gripped the male with each new untenanted chamber; he strode from door to door, throwing each open, halting only when he reached the fourth. Those of us behind him stepped up to see what the chamber contained, and Mehrayn snorted in disdain.

“At the least, Ladayna is now accounted for,” said he, faintly amused at the glare sent toward him by the female. She lay upon a low, padded platform to the left, much like an altar, secured to the thing by the silver chains she wore. Her long covering of black seemed more worn than fresh, her light hair hung in disarray, yet her arrogance appeared totally undiminished.

“Why do you merely stand there and gawk?” she demanded, apparently addressing all who stood in the doorway. “One of you release me immediately, and be quick about it.”

“Indeed,” murmured Aysayn, moving forward till he stood above the female, looking down upon her. “And for what reason would I have you released?”

“For the reason that I ask it,” said she, resting back upon her elbows as she gazed up at him with unconcern. “You know as well as I that you will not refuse me forever, Aysayn, no matter how angered you now fancy yourself to be with me. You will undoubtedly wish to use me later; wisest would be to release me now so that I might freshen myself for you.”

The smile the female sent upward to the male above her was thick with invitation and self-assurance, half insulting and deliberately so. Aysayn slowly folded his arms as she spoke, and at last nodded his head.

“You are entirely correct, Ladayna,” said he, a mildness in his tone. “I will indeed wish to use you later. Tell me: where has your confederate gone?”

“Him!” sniffed the female, shifting angrily so that her chains clinked. “I have not seen the fool since he chained me here, hind ago. For feyd he has kept me a virtual prisoner in these apartments, refusing to allow me to walk free since I told the guardsmen that you were not the Shadow. Without me, his schemes would have quickly gone to naught, and how does he repay me? Like this!”

She shook her arms to indicate her bound condition, and again Aysayn nodded.

“The man knows as little of proper way to repay a wench as he knows of facing his enemies squarely,” said he, bending low to Ladayna. “When I return, I will be sure to give you all you have earned.”

His fist went to her hair and his lips took hers, both gestures silencing the words she would have spoken. No more than a moment did he continue so, and then he left her side and rejoined those who awaited him, leading them from the chamber. Ladayna looked after him with considerable indignation, yet a shade of doubt had entered her sharp, light eyes. I remained where I had been, leaning upon the wall to the right of the door, and when all sound of the males’ retreat faded, the female looked to me with a frown.

“Why do you remain when the others have not?” she demanded, raising up again as far as her chains permitted. “And what has happened to your arm? I was told that female slaves in the Caverns are not permitted the use of weapons.”

“Female slaves are not,” said I, leaving the bracing assistance of the wall so that I might move the nearer to her platform. “How well skilled are you with a sword, city slave-woman? Even as I am, it will take a deal of skill to best me. Tell me if the effort necessary to release you will be repaid in battle pleasure.”

“Are you insane?” she cried, attempting to back from me upon the platform. “I know naught of swords save the men who wield them. What is it you intend?”

“I mean to have your life,” I replied with a frown, halting at the foot of her platform. “Did you believe I would return with thanks for having been twice sent to slavery by you? I have come to repay the debt I owe.”

“You cannot!” she choked, wide-eyed with terror. “I am a high lady and the chosen of Sigurr’s Shadow! It is impossible for harm to come to me, I am too beautiful and desirable! No man would ever harm me, so has my father always sworn, and so has it been!”

“I see,” said I, comprehending at last the full foolishness of males. “You have been taught that you are untouchable no matter your actions, for you are greatly desired for use by males. Perhaps it has escaped you that I am no male.”

Her terror-filled gaze then came to take me in, the once-white body cloth I wore, my left arm again beginning to be streaked with blood, the sword held steadily in my right fist, the battle-readiness of my wide-legged stance. With this before her, the female began to tremble, and then came a voice which interrupted my clear intent.

“And yet I am male, and know that one’s true value,” said the voice, causing me to turn quickly toward the still-open door. There the male Pinain stood, he who had taken me to the Caverns, he who had used me first before the others who had accompanied us. He stood with sword naked in his fist and easily smiling visage, no indication of fear touching him.

“She will be worth a good deal where I intend going,” said Pinain, his light eyes filled with amusement. “Wenches such as she are bought by those who have no wenches, to be locked away in seclusion and used only with secrecy and shame for that which they do. They dwell to the south and worship the obscene Oneness, and will give me whatever I ask for her.”

“Pinain, no!” whimpered the female from my right, misery and fear clear in her voice. “Do not take me to that place of abominations, do not sell me to . . . ”

“Silence!” commanded the male, his gaze unmoving from me even while he spoke to the female. “You need have no fear that you will make the journey alone, for I have now decided that this one will accompany you. She, too, will fetch a good price, even should it be necessary for me to spill a bit more of her blood. The others protected her upon the Sands, yet they no longer stand with her.”

The male then took another two steps into the room, facing me more fully before rushing forward with sword raised high. His intent to disarm me quickly was clear, as clear as my response to his rush. My blade avoided his and slashed for his fade, nearly connecting as he threw himself backward and out of reach. As I set myself for another rush I cursed the clumsiness of my limbs, for the slash I had attempted should have had him. I was not as I had been earlier in the fey, and this the male was able to see.

“You throw away my time and your own strength, wench,” said he, eyeing me and flexing his grip upon his sword. “Put that weapon aside and surrender to me now, else shall I forgo your price and end you immediately. Those others will not long bay upon a false trail, and will discover that I hid in that female’s apartments. I intend to be gone before that occurs.”

“You shall indeed be gone,” said I, my voice near to a whisper. “Sooner will I be slain than forgo the vow I made. Stand ready to defend your life, male.”

He knew not what vow I spoke of, yet I recalled clearly my time with him and his males in the cavern sands. I snarled away the weariness and pain which attempted to drag me down, and attacked with no further warning. The male backed no more than a step before defending against my strokes, at first with sureness and lethal intent, after a pair of moments with growing doubt. It was clear to the male that I was close to dropping where I stood; what was unclear was the fact that no more than my blood dropped to the floor cloth. That I would not allow myself to fall was beyond his understanding, as was the source of the strength which swung my blade. An edged bar of silver streaked with dark red continued to seek his vitals, and doubt was rudely pushed aside by fear. The female Ladayna whimpered where she lay, a counterpoint to the clash of metal, ignored by she who attacked and he who sweated in defense.

Despite my resolve and intent, it slowly came to me that I could not long continue as I was. The weight of my sword began to increase, much the same as the weight of my head. Behind my eyes a throbbing increased as well, all acting to make leaden my legs and anchor them to the floor cloth. The wetness of pain covered my face and body, negating even the roughened grip of my weapon, and seeing much of this put instant delight upon the face of Pinain. He disengaged from my blade and then charged forward, driving me back from where I had stood so long intending to spit me. A dark fog had begun to close in on me as I retreated three steps, nearly unsure of what was next to be done, and then was it proven that Mida continued to watch over her warrior. As he rushed forward, Pinain’s leather-shod foot came down in the small pool of blood which had run from my arm and hand, and the male slipped. Had he been barefoot, as was proper, it would not have happened; shod as he was, he slipped so far that his arms flew up, flailing wildly to recapture balance. Without thought I drove forward again, the point of my sword aimed for his belly, and then did my metal plunge through him, tearing a screaming gurgle from his throat. His falling body plucked the sword out of my strengthless fingers, and once I saw that he lay still upon the floor cloth, I turned in the midst of thickening grayness to look upon the female Ladayna.

“Sigurr be praised,” she whispered, her chains clinking as she wiped the wetness of tears from her face with the back of one hand. “Sooner would I be slain by you, than be sold to monsters by another of their kind. Take my life and be welcome to it, sister, for you have saved me from far worse.”

Ladayna lay back upon her platform and closed her eyes, her small fists trembling as they wrapped themselves about a length of silver chain. Her slender body trembled as well, undoubtedly anticipating the touch of sharpened metal. I took one small step toward her, then fell into solid gray fog.