“Where is the skill you spoke of?” I demanded, seeing her chest rise and fall with agitation. “Am I expected to be as you and strike down the helpless? Do you mock me with pretense at sword skill? If such is the case, go to your knees now. Should you attack me again, I will claim the balance of your blood.”
“You cannot defeat me!” she shrilled, wildness heaving her chest. “You speak only to frighten and I will not be frightened!”
Again the fool of a female came at me, clearly believing desire for a thing would win that thing for her. She swung left and right as she had before, her teeth gritted, her eyes blazing, at last reaching the bottom of my patience. I caught her swing on my blade and stopped it clean, jarring her to the teeth, then began a swinging of my own. Had I faced one of skill my edge would have sought the flesh behind the blade; with Vanin it was enough that I struck her weapon. Back and back I forced her, she hard pressed to retain her footing, fear clearly beginning to enter her eyes. When I saw she knew she faced a superior warrior, I struck her blade from her hand, sending it spinning and clattering away. The female then sobbed in despair and threw herself to her knees.
“I yield!” she cried, putting her face in her hands. “I cannot best you and do acknowledge it here before all these others!”
“It is not enough,” I said, causing her to raise her head to see the point poised before her throat. “Earlier I offered you your life and you chose to throw the offer in my face. I do not choose to make the offer again.”
“You cannot slay me!” she choked, her widened eyes on the point so near to her. “I am Mida’s favorite, chosen above all others!”
“Not quite above all others,” said I, feeling more disgust than amusement. “Send Mida your final greeting and prepare yourself.”
“No!” she screamed, throwing herself backward. “Mida, I beseech your aid!”
I began to step after her, to spit her where she lay, yet a golden haze began to form to the right, beside the female craven’s body. I halted to watch the golden haze, hearing gasps and moans from those who watched behind me, feeling the pulse quicken in my body. Surely the time of my release from capture was at hand, for the haze quickly formed about the person of Mida, golden and glorious in her presence.
“Mida, send her from me!” screamed the female Vanin, attempting to crawl to the golden presence. “Do not let her slay me!”
“Greetings, Mida,” said I, standing proud and, straight before her. “The blood of this one is soon to be yours.”
“Greetings, Jalav,” said Mida, sending golden radiance all about with the smile coming to her lips. “I am pleased to see you here at last.”
“Mida, no!” gasped Vanin, cringing where she lay. “Do not give her my life, I beg of you!”
“Vanin, Vanin, my foolish daughter,” crooned Mida, turning gentle, concerned golden eyes upon her. “Did you not announce yourself the equal of any of my wild daughters? Did you not beg the presence of one to prove the contention? I fear you and your sisters have dwelt here overlong, making of yourselves more pets than warriors. The war leader Jalav stands before you, greatest warrior of all my wild daughters. Why do you not best her?”
“Mida, I cannot,” whispered Vanin, paler by far than she had been. “She fights as a male might, not as a warrior.”
“All warriors fight as I do,” said I, looking down upon her with Mida. “Those who fight as you do are called wenches.”
“No!” Vanin howled, throwing herself about upon the floor. “I am a warrior, not a wench! Mida, take me from her!”
“Jalav, you are the challenged,” said Mida, turning from the form upon the floor. “As you have bested her, her disposition is yours. Do with her as you will.”
I looked from Mida to the female Vanin, howling and screaming in a frenzy upon the floor. I touched the life sign which hung between my breasts, seeing that Vanin wore none. To slay the female would be fitting and satisfying, yet little honor would adhere to the act.
“I cannot leave an enemy behind me,” I mused, speaking to Mida. “Nor do I care to sully my sword upon one such as she. I have learned a thing from males, Mida, a thing termed mercy. Do you wish to see the cruelty of it?”
Mida smiled, a smile filled with full understanding, therefore did I turn to those others who stood watching us.
“Is there one among you who would have a female pretending to warriorhood?” I called. “She is no more than comely to the eye, as yet to be taught obedience in the furs. Is there one who would teach her such a thing?”
“I am one,” the male Tastil called back, grinning amid the laughter of his males before coming to stand beside me.
“No!” shrieked the female Vanin, sending venom toward the male with the single word she apparently still possessed. “No, no, no, Mida, no!”
“Ah, but yes, little one,” laughed Tastil, advancing to where she lay upon the floor. “As the Golden One’s favorite you were untouchable, yet now that you have fallen from grace—I have waited long for this moment.”
Vanin turned and attempted to scramble to her feet, thinking, perhaps, to run from the male. He, however, had no intentions of allowing her escape. As she turned he moved quickly to put his hands upon her arms, pushing her to the floor with the weight of his body.
“There is another thing I have long wished to do,” he said, gathering her thigh-length hair in his hands. Once captured, he held her hair in one hand, drew a dagger from his boot, then proceeded to cut the hair from her at shoulder length. The female screamed and twisted beneath him, yet her hair was cut, each strand in its turn, till all hung in a knot from his hand. “I shall bind your hair and braid it,” said he, thrusting the mass through the sides of his breech. “The whip I form will be used each fey to teach you your new lot in life, that of a wench subject to a man’s will. You will find yourself much beaten and much used—and well repaid for every insult ever given me.”
He then rose to his feet, drawing her up with him, taking her from the spot by a fist in her shortened hair. Her wailing cry to Mida could be heard far across the vast chamber, even when shadows no longer showed their forms. I took a breath of weariness, remarking again upon the mercy of males, then turned to see how Ceralt fared.
“No, Jalav,” said Mida, before I might begin a step. “I have waited long to speak with you, and wish to wait no longer. Come with me.”
I was about to ask but a moment’s time, yet before I was able to do so, the golden haze about Mida spread to encircle me as well. The air itself glowed golden about me, filling my lungs with the color of life. I felt I floated there, in the golden haze, between one step and another, and then it was gone and a chamber stood about me, Mida’s chamber beyond doubt. All was golden, the cloth beneath my feet, the silks upon the walls, the seats, the platforms, the furs upon the thing called bed. Mida herself seemed to step from the haze of gold, sending it elsewhere, turning at last to face me. Her skin and hair and eyes were gold, soft and radiant, giving her a beauty beyond all others. Her large, full breasts were bare, and about her hips was draped a golden covering, long to her ankles, much like that which Keepers wore. She gazed upon me in silence for a moment, then gestured toward a seat.
“Divest yourself of that sword, war leader, then sit yourself there,” said she. “There are many things to be discussed between us, not the least of which is my reason for calling you here. There is much for you to do and I would have you begin as soon as possible.”
“I shall be pleased to do so,” said I, cleaning the blade I had used upon my thigh before throwing it to a corner. “However, there is first the matter of the male Ceralt. Is his life yours or mine, Mida?”