Nothing to it, she thought as she unsheathed Lightning and loosened her arms. Next time I go after something, I hope it’s in a dusty corner where no one sees or cares if I take it. I did ask for this.
Something padded toward her in the tunnel. Moving into the center of the cave, Alanna set herself.
When it came into the light, she understood instantly that Chitral had assumed this form—she couldn’t say how she knew it, but she did. He’d come as one of the great rock-apes that inhabited the Roof of the World. Incredibly shy of people, they were seldom seen, and they never carried short swords as this one did. The blade was black iron and very primitive, but Alanna had no doubt it would do the job intended for it. Oh, gods, she thought as the ape squared off against her, its deep-set eyes bright with intelligence. I’m in for it now.
He—it?—swung and chopped, forcing her back. She moved warily, her tired muscles sluggish at first. He jabbed; Alanna countered and thrust, making the ape skip away. Now wasn’t the time for fanciness or art, now was the time to just stay alive. At least the knowledge of a fight sent adrenaline coursing through her body, putting a stop to the tremors of exhaustion. The ape pursued her, hewing with the short sword as if it were an ax.
The long hours with Liam began to show as Alanna automatically dipped, swerved, and twisted. Keeping out of the ape’s reach—he could do as much harm with a hand as he could with his blade—she made him wary of Lightning. Her sword nipped and bit at him, leaving his fur dotted with blood.
Her injured knee buckled, and the ape’s sword scored her from collar to navel, cutting through wool and silk to leave a shallow, bleeding gash. She faltered and lunged in, chopping at the ape’s neck. He roared and smashed back with his unarmed fist, catching her on the elbow. Alanna fell forward and rolled out of the way. Her arm went numb; Lightning dropped from her fingers. Getting up, she staggered back as the ape picked up her sword. He peered at the gray lights shifting under the steel skin.
You did a work of art when you made this. As much as she might want to, she couldn’t react to the pain of his voice in her head, not unless she wanted him to kill her as she covered her ears. She wondered how he even knew Lightning had once been two swords, and that she’d combined them to make one unbroken blade. The ape tossed the sword behind him, where it lay near the far wall of the cave. I suppose you did it only because you wanted a whole sword you could command. Not because the magic was beautiful for its own sake.
It wasn’t true, entirely. He gave her no chance to answer as he attacked.
Alanna couldn’t think, couldn’t worry if her body might give out. She ducked and dodged. When he gave her an opening, she executed one of the jump kicks Liam had taught her, slamming into the ape’s shoulder and making him roar. When he swung to chop her down, she was away and circling. She sought her chance and flew in again, hitting the same shoulder. It was his blade arm that she focused on, kicking every chance she had while keeping out of his range and grip. The fourth time she hit that arm, she kicked lower, into the same muscle he’d hit to make her drop Lightning. The iron sword fell to the cave floor, and Alanna went for it. Her hands closed on the hilt.
Pain seared her hands and arms, locking her muscles together. She screamed, her throat tearing with the cry. It hurt worse than anything she could remember. She held on—she couldn’t let go—and rolled to her back, pointing it at the advancing ape. Crying with the pain, she yelled, “Don’t! I don’t want to kill you! Keep the Jewel!”
The ape stopped a foot beyond the sword’s point, looking her over curiously. If Alanna didn’t know better, she’d have sworn he smiled. Reaching forward, he plucked the sword from her freely bleeding hands.
You are a funny little thing. His voice hurt much less this time, which puzzled her. He seemed to have changed his mind about killing her.
He didn’t choose to explain. Instead his thought-voice went on. I suppose you have no idea why you are compelled to seek this Jewel.
Alanna cradled her palms against her chest, too tired to rise. “It’s for the glory of Tortall.” Her throat hurt from screaming. “There isn’t a nation existing that can’t profit from the Dominion Jewel. And bringing it home would be to the glory of the knight who brought it. If it’s yours, though, it’s yours. Now that I think of it, I don’t know how the famous heroes of the past were able to take things from the entities that guarded them—not if they were as noble as the stories claim. When you look at it right, it is stealing.”
The ape shook his head, plainly amused. In a hand that was empty a moment ago, he offered a many-faceted purple gem. When she stared at him without moving, he placed it on her chest.
What use have I for a jewel? His outline turned blurry.
“Are you one of the gods?” she asked as he began to fade. Suddenly she had a hundred things she wanted to know from him.
No. I come from before. Your gods are children to my brethren and me.
Alanna could barely see the ape, and the air was getting perceptibly cooler. She scrambled to her feet. “Then who are you?”
I am this place, and these mountains. I suppose you might call me an elemental. Now his voice began to fade.
“How did you come by the Jewel?” She struggled to put on her clothing, trying to ignore the pain in her hands. The Jewel she stuffed into a pocket.
It finds its way to me from time to time. Not often, but now and then. I made it, and I keep it because I like to have company. I shall be entertained by your visit for centuries of human time. You mortals are quite interesting!
She could feel no sense of him at all when she finished dressing, which may have been just as well. She was not sure she liked the idea of being “entertainment” for anyone, elemental or no.
She found her way to the mouth of the cave and looked out, clinging to the rim of the opening. Dawn was coming, and she had no way to return to the inn.
“No wonder he gave me the Jewel,” she muttered, sliding down to sit on the rock floor. “I’m going to die here anyway.” She knew the idea should bother her, but it didn’t. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and she barely noticed the cold. Pulling her cloak over her face, she went to sleep.
She was warm—all of her, not parts. She could smell clean linen and herbal salves. Forcing her eyes open, Alanna wondered how long she’d been out.
“Never again.” Her voice was harsh in her ears. “I won’t spend another winter in the cold.” Her eyes watered as she tried to look around.
“You could’ve fooled me.” The deep rumble was Liam’s voice. “If a man went by the way you act, he’d think you live to freeze!”
She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He was slowly coming into focus, and she wasn’t surprised to see that his eyes were pure emerald in color.
“Sorry?” His voice cracked on the word.
“I’m sorry I had to go into a blizzard at all. I wasn’t given a choice, remember?”
“You had your gods-cursed cat witch me!”
Alanna tried to push herself upright and winced: Her hands were heavily bandaged and throbbed under the weight she’d put on them. “Ironarm, stop it! Aren’t there times when you act alone?”
“This isn’t the same!”
“Horse dung it isn’t. People like us have to know when to break rules. This was one of those times, and I was right to do it. I am sorry I hurt you. Chitral didn’t leave me much of a choice.”