WHEN she woke, well rested, daylight was firm and servants were arriving in clusters. There were no horses, apart from Seqiro and Maresy—because, Colene realized, they did not need to witness it visually. They could receive it from their minions, sent here for the purpose. They could also tune in on the battling minds of the two participating horses.
There was time for a quick breakfast. Then they took the field without ceremony. It was large, and they were not restricted to it; once commenced, the battle could continue anywhere. But it would not be stopped until there was a victor. It seemed pointless to waste one’s energy fleeing, because that would just give the advantage to the pursuit. There was an array of weapons roughly defining the main arena: clubs, knives, pitchforks, crowbars, and stones. It was apparent that no one would be caught weaponless; there would always be another lying nearby.
Nona gazed at the scene, and shuddered. She had no confidence in her ability to wield any of those implements in attack or defense. Colene marked where the knives were; she wanted to be sure to have one at all times, because she was not afraid to use it. The gravity of the situation was clarifying; this was indeed a deadly serious encounter. Yet could it be worse than getting surrounded and attacked in the forest? Better to have a fighting chance, literally.
Koturo appeared, marching in from a farther pasture. He was a large horse, similar to Seqiro, with a black hide speckled with white patches. He looked mean. He was flanked by four minions: two men and two women. They looked mean too. The five of them took a stance in the center of the field, weaponless, about fifty feet away. It was possible that they could conceal weapons under their capes, but Colene doubted it; the horses had control, and any cheating would be noted.
Seqiro stood in the center of his force, facing the other stallion. Nona and Colene were to his right, opposite the two enemy women. Darius and Burgess were to his left, facing the two men. The horses would have gotten Burgess’ nature and capabilities from Colene’s mind; evidently they felt he was a fair substitute for a human man. There were no rocks in the center, so he was weaponless too. But how was he going to get direction from Seqiro? A person had to touch a contact point to communicate with him, and then it could seem indirect, because of Burgess’ fuzzy notion of self.
The four enemy minions reached up and turned their tassels to combat position. Seqiro’s three humans did the same, acting on a nudge from the horse. The battle was on.
Neither horse moved. Instead the minions moved. One man kept his place, while the other ran to the side toward the weapons. The women did the same, one standing and watching Nona and Colene while the other went for weapons.
Nona gave a savage cry and charged the standing woman. Colene realized that Seqiro was directing her. But Colene herself felt nothing. Not even a mental suggestion.
She glanced across at the men. Darius was standing guard while Burgess floated toward a region of stones. Seeing that, the standing man was starting to advance to intercept the floater, and Darius was starting to intercept the man.
Suddenly Colene put it together: all Koturo’s minions were under his mental control, acting in concert. Some were watching the opposition, while others were fetching weapons. It made sense. But only one was under Seqiro’s controclass="underline" Nona, who needed it most. Burgess was independent, because neither horse could control him. Darius and Colene were free, because they could be trusted to use their own initiative. Thus Seqiro could concentrate his power more effectively. Because his minions served him willingly, while Koturo’s minions could not be trusted on their own.
Even as she realized this, Colene was launching herself at the woman going for the weapons. A weapon was too great an advantage; the forces had to stay even, at least until her own side could get the advantage.
The woman, seeing her, ran. But Colene had gotten up speed, and gained on her. As the woman bent to sweep up a club, Colene tackled her. They fell among the clubs in a tangle of limbs.
The woman was no patsy. She rolled over, wrestling Colene down with superhuman strength. The horse was doing that—and Colene lacked that support. She realized that this was because it was going to Nona, so she could try to overcome her minionette, but this left Colene in a bad position. Already she was on her back, pinned at the throat while the woman reached for a club. Why did Seqiro think she could handle this tigress on her own?
Because of her own little bit of telepathy. And her suicidal nature.
Colene went to it. She clapped both her hands on the woman’s arm, wrenching it up. It was like moving a branch from a tree, but she did succeed in getting the hand up across her chin as she twisted her neck. Then, quickly, she snapped her head around and bit the hand, hard.
The woman didn’t even react. She continued to grasp for a club with her free hand. Koturo had blocked off her pain! She probably didn’t even realize what Colene was doing.
So Colene chomped down again, as hard as she could. And a third time, gnawing at that hand. She felt gristle and tasted blood as the woman finally got the club and brought it about.
Colene’s teeth had taken their toll. The woman’s hand was no longer able to maintain its purchase, not because of lack of will or strength, but because the tendons had been chewed and the blood made Colene’s face and neck slippery. Colene wrenched her neck free and grabbed for the club. They rolled over, as the woman tried to grasp and hold Colene with her injured hand. The thing about pain was that it warned a person not only of danger, but that an appendage was not up to snuff. This woman still didn’t know that her hand wasn’t working at a hundred per cent. The club came up. That could still finish Colene, even if ineffectively swung. So she focused all her mental energy at the woman and thought: drop it!
The hand opened, letting the club drop. The woman had taken it for a command from her master, and obeyed, though Colene’s own thought could hardly have had strength enough to do it. Score one for surprise.
They rolled again, as the woman grasped for another club. Now they were in a region of knives. The woman reached for one with her injured hand, failed to catch it properly, and for the first time actually looked at her hand. Now she—and her master—realized what had happened. She paused for just a moment.
Colene grabbed a knife, whipped it up, and stabbed it at the woman’s face. To her amazement, she scored. The point of the knife plunged into the woman’s mouth and through to her throat, inside.
Then Colene realized that Seqiro had lent her a moment’s force, guiding her hand with unerring power in that instant of advantage. The woman was dead, or soon would be.
Colene scrambled up, grabbed another knife, and ran back to the knot of bodies that represented Nona and her minionette. They were at an impasse, each controlled by a horse, their special powers canceling each other out. In an ordinary contest, the stronger horse would eventually enable his minions to prevail. But this one wasn’t ordinary. Colene did not hesitate. She came up behind the enemy woman and stabbed for her neck. But the woman twisted aside with an awareness that could only have been that of the horse, and Colene’s thrust caught Nona’s shoulder. Nona did not react; Seqiro had blocked off her pain. But Colene, horrified, jerked the knife back—and again struck with awesome speed and precision, slicing the point across the other woman’s throat. Blood poured out, and the woman lost concentration. Colene used her knee to shove the body to the side, and reached out to help Nona. “I’m so sorry—”
But this was not the time for that. Nona was injured, her cape soaked with fresh blood, and needed healing—and there was only one place for it. She could heal herself in the Virtual Mode, where her magic worked. Where she would be safe. So Colene led Nona away from the battle, to the stalls, where the anchor was. No one interfered; this was all part of the battle.