“Sweet Sea Mother,” he panted as Lila threw herself upon him again. He fought faster, pushed her back, struck a ringing blow that made her short sword shudder, and she lashed out with her whip, trying to catch him, but close quarters rendered the long whip ineffective. He reached out, grabbed the braided leather, and yanked hard, making her stumble toward him. He let go and in a swift blinding motion, seized her wrist instead, pulling her even closer to him.
She pressed her face close to his, smiling. “So, you want me now? Are you trying to take me right here on the sands? That would be exhilarating! Maybe I’d even let you. You’ve done well today.”
He shoved her away. “You tormented me. You battered me. How can you think we’ll just be lovers?”
She looked confused. “I trained you as I was commanded to do. I taught you the skills you needed, and I made you a much better fighter than ever before. I saved your life, or at least extended it. How can you resent that?”
He felt exasperated. “I resent being imprisoned, being forced to fight. I was never part of Ildakar. I just wanted to save Ian. He was my friend, and you all corrupted him, made him forget about his life.”
“He was the champion.” Lila was just as baffled. “We revered him. Adessa even took him as her lover. She might have let herself conceive a child by him. What more could a man want?”
“What more?” Bannon spat on the sand. He backed away, keeping his sword raised in a defensive position. “I wanted to make my own choices. I didn’t want to be in the combat arena. I didn’t want to be trained by you.”
She looked down at his sword, his well-muscled arms, his lean and wiry form. “But you still have me to thank for it. How do you resent me?”
They were panting, drenched in sweat. He knew he had fought well. Lila had parried his blows, pressed forward, and he had pushed back. He was almost, almost good enough to fight her to a stalemate. But now she backed away, troubled by his reaction. “I find you strange, boy. This is what I am. I did as I was instructed. What more could you want of me? Someday you will appreciate what I gave you.”
He was grateful for the swordplay that Nathan Rahl had taught him. He had learned the basics of fighting on the deck of the Wavewalker. Before then, he had simply swung the blade from side to side, trying to get close enough to hit some reckless enemy, but Nathan showed him skill and finesse.
It was true, though, that Lila had honed him into a real fighter. He had been forced into one-on-one combat with Ian, his former best friend, who had become a bloodthirsty killer with cold and leaden eyes. The champion fought not one whit below his ability, even against Bannon, who had been forced to use every flicker of skill to save his own life, and just barely. Ian had struck him in the head with the side of a knout, rendering him unconscious rather than killing him. Bannon was sure his friend had done it on purpose, but if Bannon had let his guard falter for even a heartbeat during combat, he would be dead now. He was sure of it.
“I can’t forget what you did to me,” he said. “I’m sorry, Lila. I know who you are. I can’t blame a viper for biting me, but the venom can still make me sick.”
She chuckled. “You compare me to a viper now? I was hoping for something more romantic.” She narrowed her eyes and hardened her voice. “Boy—”
“My name is Bannon. Until you think of me as a person, I can’t think of you as anything but a snake.”
She laughed again. “As you wish, Bannon—I’ll remember that from time to time, when you earn it. But understand that my morazeth sisters and I have always fought for the good of Ildakar, and that hasn’t changed. Everyone in the city has the same enemy, and only a fool would hold a grudge in a situation like this. Fight the army of Utros, not me.” She lowered her voice. “Then you’ll find that we both deserve our rewards.”
Bannon pondered that, worried that she might use his moment of distraction to attack him. He knew that what she said was correct. “All right, I’ll put aside my grudge against you and the morazeth. For the time being.”
She smiled, a genuine smile, and when she did she was quite beautiful.
The morazeth and the combat arenas had been an integral part of Ildakaran society during their many centuries hidden beneath the shroud. Lila had not been malicious, though it had felt so at the time. She had no emotional attachment, was simply doing her job. When she presented him with a “reward” of her body and expected him to take as much pleasure as she did, she meant it. On those evenings, Lila had wrapped herself around him with wild abandon, not as a power play, but as a woman with a man. Considering how much battering she had inflicted on him, the reward had not been entirely unpleasant.
“Everyone here has to put aside their grudges, as you say. And we have to train to be deadly fighters.” He thrust Sturdy into the sand, indicating he was done with their sparring for now. Around them in the other combat pits, the battles continued.
Lila rubbed her arms, touched a sore spot from where he had dealt her a blow with the flat of his blade. He studied her slender form, the lean muscles, the spell markings on her skin. She was beautiful like a wild thing.
No grudges …
He thought again of Ian on Chiriya Island, an innocent lad who had been captured by Norukai slavers. Ian had sacrificed himself so Bannon could get away.… Bannon had watched the hideous raiders club his dear friend into unconsciousness. They had tied Ian up and sailed away, eventually selling him in the slave market of Ildakar.
Of all the things he hated, Bannon loathed the Norukai raiders the most. Perhaps he could find a way to forgive, or at least ignore, what the morazeth had done, and perhaps those women could make up for their past by saving the city from the new siege.
But Bannon could never forget nor forgive the Norukai. That was a grudge he would hold until the end of time.
CHAPTER 8
Waves crashed like war hammers against the black cliffs, as if the serpent god were angry or restless, but the Norukai were accustomed to storms and high seas. The harsh waters and treacherous channels between the islands heated the blood of the Norukai, strengthened them.
The air was damp and cold inside King Grieve’s enormous Bastion, which towered over the main Norukai island. Built from perfectly fitted black stones, its impregnable square walls were even more intimidating than the sharp reef spires that protruded from the foaming surf below.
A fire roared in the cavernous hearth of his throne room, fed with logs delivered by lumber ships that razed the coast. The Norukai were feared as raiders, destroyers, slavers, but on their rocky islands, wood was a commodity as valuable as gold and less unruly than defiant captives. The large fire in the throne room burned constantly against the persistent damp chill.
King Grieve wore a sleeveless scaled vest made from the skin of a wolf shark that he had wrestled into submission, hauling it up onto the rocks and gutting it while it was still alive. His arm muscles were enormous from hard work and from killing. The Norukai king needed to be stronger than all of his people, and Grieve often demonstrated the fact, although it was difficult to coerce anyone to fight him, because any challenger knew he or she would die.
He clenched his fists as he sat on his blocky throne, staring at the hot, bright fire. Grieve’s knuckles had been inset with curved iron plates. One blow from his fist would crush an opponent’s skull and drop him like a clubbed spearfish. Grieve liked to do that, although it ended the fun of a duel all too soon.