I left the entrance to walk the floor cloth of the corridor, commanding myself to patience as I would have upon the hunt. Our quarry was well within reach, but it was necessary to allow them to strike first. Around and about the waiting warriors I walked, aware of their breathing and mine, aware of the odd feel of a floor cloth beneath my bare feet, aware of how little of the fresh breeze was able to penetrate the dwelling. How was it possible for one to live so forever, locked away from the clean, open air and wide stretches of Mida’s true world, walled in through choice rather than imprisonment? It was a matter I had been unable to comprehend, much as I had tried. As well to be beneath the ground in chains, as to be kept in such a dwelling forever.
My pacing had covered much roundabout distance before the faint sounds of distant battle reached us. The beginning of the new fey had just touched light to the skies, clearly the signal the males had awaited. The warriors about me stirred, as though forcing themselves to remain in place, and much did I, too, feel the sharp desire to race toward the battle we knew had begun. It was highly unlikely that any force would attempt entrance at our post, yet the sole male in the area seemed to have little understanding of this point. He called High Seat had stood slumped and silent in our midst, his long covering askew upon him beneath the chains, his entire demeanor one of defeat; now did his features grow anxious and hopeful in the faint light, as though rescue might soon be his. Surely, any with intelligence would see that attack had been expected by us and therefore might not be relied upon as a means of rescue, yet there the male stood, a furtive, crafty, look to his narrowed eye, a sly, evil smile to his fleshy lips, his round, delicate hands turned to fists within their manacles. The male anticipated freedom and subsequent vengeance, yet such would never be his; should the Midanna be in danger of losing that which they had taken, I would see the portly male first to have his throat opened. Never again would a warrior stand in judgment before him, to be declared slave by him, to be lashed for his pleasure. The male was unworthy of life himself, and would no longer be allowed the taking of life from others.
The sounds of battle continued as the light strengthened, yet the males in the grass before the dwelling made no attempt to add to them. They held their positions with as little skill as they had shown in the darkness, heads raising up to peer about, swords glinting in the brightening light, arms and backs and legs in turn presenting themselves as targets. Surely did I begin to believe they meant themselves to be seen, and yet, when a bloodied male appeared from the side of the dwelling, to stagger and fall nearly upon them, they quickly hugged the ground as though attempting invisibility. It was clear the bloodied male was beyond all assistance, yet do I believe they would have broken cover had he merely been wounded. Those who cannot place their wounded in Mida’s care till battle is done are bereft indeed, of hope, of intelligent battle, and of all possibility of victory.
With the light of the new fey full in the skies, silence had once again returned. Runners had come to bring word that each of the five points of attack had been successfully defended, the last and farthest entry seeing the greatest number of males in the attempt. In accordance with my instructions, no prisoners had been taken, those coming in attack being either slain or driven off. No warrior had fallen to the blade of a male, and this fact had done much damage to the intentions of the males. They had been taught to fear the skill of a warrior, and this fear would aid in their total conquest.
Much discussion had gone on among the males upon the grass, disagreement rife among their number, yet was their final decision inevitable. All slowly regained their feet to stretch the stiffness from their bodies, all eyes nervously upon the dwelling in which we stood, and then did one of their number, a blue cloth held high above his head, begin to approach us. Slowly and deliberately did the male move, his broad face set in lines of grimness as his arm waved the cloth above his head, his forward movement ceasing only when he stood upon the stones before the wide steps of the dwelling. Clad in a dirt-stained, wet and hanging covering of city males was he, dark red and of midthigh length, closing at his side, where hung a blade and scabbard stiff and shiny in their seeming newness. I knew not the meaning of the waving cloth, for surely were we aware of his presence without it, yet the matter was unimportant. The male had come to parley, which was proven by the first of his words.
“You within the palace!” he called, his voice harsh and filled with anger. “Send your leader forth to speak with us, else shall it go harder with you!”
My warriors muttered in disapproval at this, for surely had the males been bested in battle by us, yet the bluster was full familiar to me. Males must ever voice threats to warriors, for true reason is completely beyond them. I nodded to Rogon, indicating that she was to be prepared for that task given her, gestured toward the hand of warriors who were to accompany me, then stepped from the entrance to the length of smooth stone above the waiting male. I paused a pace from the first of the steps, rested my left hand upon my sword hilt, and looked down upon the male.
“What is it you wish?” I inquired, impatiently. The male stared up at me with a frown, his eyes moving from the dagger in its leg bands upon my right leg, to the sword scabbarded about my waist above the breech, to the life sign which swung between my breasts, to the silver rings of a war leader in my ears. His tongue appeared to wet his lips, showing again how well pleased males were by the sight of Jalav, and then he cleared his throat.
“We have come to demand the release of the High Seat,” he rasped, the blue cloth still firmly grasped in his fist. “Should you release him now, unharmed, you and your wenches will be allowed to depart unmolested. Our numbers are greater than yours, and sustenance will be denied you should you refuse us. Also, should it be necessary to wrest the palace from you by force, those of you who survive will be declared slave and thrown naked to the men of the city. Wisest would be that you give over this foolishness now, while you are still able.”
A moment did I stand regarding him, this male who attempted to take our victory with talk rather than sharpened metal, and then did I gesture a dismissal of his contention with all the contempt I felt so strongly within me.
“I have little time for the prattle of males!” I snapped, glaring down upon the fool of a speaker. “Do we not both know that you have attempted to retake this dwelling and have failed? You speak of disallowing us provender; we are Midanna warriors, and take what we wish, despite the objections of those about us! Should the matter come to a final battle, we will see this dwelling and all of your city in flames before the last of us falls. Our survivors to be declared slave indeed! Has it not yet entered your head that should our forces meet, there will be no survivors?”
The male, having gone ashen at my words, turned in desperation to those who had remained upon the grass. My voice had been pitched so that they, too, of necessity, might hear, yet did I feel much the fool for having spoken as I had. The boasting of males and warriors-to-be was sour upon my tongue, more a gesture of she who has little or no skill, rather than a doing fit for a war leader. It was necessary that these males be dealt with as they were wont to deal with others, yet was the action distasteful.
A hand of others had left their places when my speech was done, and quickly did they join he with the blue cloth. Little brotherly feeling was lost between they who came and he who waited, and much glaring was exchanged before one of the hand addressed himself to me.