She saw shock and anger flick across his face, but there was no time for more. In a whirling flurry of steel he disengaged, almost wrenching Aurian’s blade from her hand. Then the fight was on in earnest. To Aurian, time seemed to slow as she and Forral wove their intricate dance of death across the sands. All other concerns were forgotten as the world narrowed to herself, her opponent, and the gleaming steel they wielded.
Coronach screamed its death song as it clove the air, and Aurian exulted with the blade—and became the blade with its clean, sharp flicker followed by the jarring impact that ran up her arms as the two swords clashed again and again. She registered the warm trickle of blood from a dozen minor wounds, then forgot them. Forral was also bleeding in several places. He was red-faced and panting now, his movements less fluent than her own. With a sudden shock, Aurian realized that she could beat him, though the split second’s distraction almost cost her the fight. She saw Forral’s downswing just in time, tucked in her head and rolled, coming up again, sword still in hand, to press the attack. Step by step, she began to force him backward.
The awareness that he was losing began to dawn on Forral’s face, and with it, the atmosphere of the fight was changed. He was proud of her—Aurian knew it as though she had picked the thought from his mind. As they fought, the air was charged with a tension between them, a bond so close that they were almost fighting as one, and Aurian knew that they were no longer fighting against each other—they were fighting with one another, though each was striving their utmost to win. Despite her wounds and the tiredness that was creeping over her, the feeling was like heady wine. A slow smile spread across Forral’s face, and she found herself grinning back in answer. Never had they been so utterly together.
The fight went down in Garrison legend. Those fortunate enough to witness it said afterward that the moves were so fast that they could hardly be seen. No one knew how long it took —Aurian lost all track of time in the exhilaration of the contest. Then, abruptly, it was over. Forral was sprawled on the sand at her feet, the tip of her sword at his throat.
The audience was stunned into silence as Aurian lifted her blade to salute him, sagging with exhaustion as the tension of the fight drained from her limbs. Leaning on her sword, she put out a hand to help Forral to his feet. As he rose, their eyes met, and in that one glance, all the words, all the feelings that they had hidden in their hearts for so long, passed between them. There was no more hiding now. Supporting each other, they left the arena. The crowd, as if released from a spell, leapt to its feet and burst into tumultuous cheers. Aurian exchanged a startled look with Forral. They had both forgotten all about the crowd.
Without a word, they limped back to Forral’s quarters. Before the door had time to close, they were in each other’s arms. They made love right there on the floor—blood, sweat, sand, and all. The touch of Forral’s hands sent delightful shivers over Aurian’s skin as he discarded her bloodstained clothing, and his own. She remembered crying out once, as he first penetrated her, and later she found bruises on his shoulders where her fingers had clenched in that instam>of pain. Forral cried out as his body tensed and shuddered; he had longed for this moment for so many years, he could delay no longer. Then he relaxed against her, kissing her eyes, her neck, her mouth. Aurian moaned, still tense, wanting . . . She felt his hand caress her breasts, her thighs, then between her thighs, and as he brought her to her own release he entered her once more, and this time, when the moment came, they were together; their passion lasting and deep and strong with friendship and respect and the deep, deep joy of an old love turned new.
They lay in each other’s arms, letting the world drift slowly back to them. Aurian was filled with awe. She had passed through the most important event in a woman’s life— and Forral loved her. Not as the young girl he had known, but as a woman. She felt transformed, and so, somehow, was he. Aurian felt unaccountably shy in the presence of this muscular, hairy man—her lover. Then he turned to her, his face alight with tenderness, and he was Forral again, whom she had always loved and trusted.
“Ah, love,” he murmured, “if you only knew . . .”
Aurian reached out to touch his face. “I’ve known ever since I was a little girl. I told you then, remember?”
“Aye, so you did. 1 thought it was just a childish fancy, though. I didn’t take into account how stubborn you can be, And what a fighter! Gods, but I was proud of you today!”
“You taught me, Forral—and now you’ve taught me something else.” Aunan’s eyes danced. “Who do you think won this time, then?”
“Wretch!” Forral laughed. “Who do you think won?”
“I think,” Aurian said happily, “it was a draw.” And she kissed him.
They bathed, and doctored each other’s wounds from the duel. Aurian wanted no magical Healing today. She had magic of another kind, and every one of these scars was precious to her. None of the cuts was serious, but now that Aurian was noticing them, they stung. She was beginning to stiffen up after being sweated up in a battle then making love on a drafty floor. But it made no difference. She and Forral were stupefied with wonder. They could hardly stop touching each other, and gazing into one another’s^eyes. To Aurian it was like coming home.
Their ministrations might have developed into something more, but they were interrupted by a discreet knock on the door. Forral swore, and went to answer it. No one was there, but a large tray, laden with food and drink, had been left on the floor. As Forral put it on the table, Aurian spotted a slip of folded paper propped against a flask of wine. Forral opened it, and burst out laughing. “I might have known!” He handed the note to Aurian, who recognized Maya’s neat, compressed hand. “About bloody time!” it said.
After they had eaten, they decided to see if their love felt as good between clean sheets. It was even better. Dusk found them sitting up in bed, sipping peach brandy as the sound of Maya’s voice drilling the hapless new recruits in the parade ground drifted through the open window.
Aurian sipped the mellow spirit. The warm glow, as it trickled down her throat, matched the glow she felt inside. But it reminded her of more serious matters, and she turned to Forral. It was best to get things right out in the open.
“Why have you started drinking so much?” she asked him.
Forral almost dropped the glass. His face flushed guiltily. “Who told you?”
“Maya. She’s worried, Forral, and so am I.”
“Gods, does that wretched woman know everything? Between the two of you, a man doesn’t stand a chance!”
“That’s because we care about you,” Aurian said softly,
Forral put his arm round her, “I know, love, and I’m sorry, A man gets defensive when he knows he’s been acting like a fool. It was just—well, it was you.”
“Me?”
He nodded, “I don’t know when I stopped thinking of you as a child, but when I did—well, I’ve had women before . . .”
“Oh?” Aurian’s voice had a dangerous edge. His previous lovers were the last thing she wanted to discuss right now!