The Ironhand's Daughter

Masrick's face was ashen. Kollarin almost felt pity for the man. 'Ari,' said Asmidir softly, 'is our guest ready to join us?'

'Yes, Lord.' Ari departed the hall and a terrible silence followed. Masrick was sweating now and Kollarin saw that the little man's hands were trembling. Despite his armour he looked nothing like a soldier.

'I... I... don't want to die, Asmidir,' he whimpered, tears spilling to his cheeks. The black man ignored him. 'Please don't kill me!' The hall door opened and Ari returned. Behind him came another warrior and Kollarin's breath caught in his throat. She was tall and slender, her hair silver-white like the chain-mail tunic she wore. Thigh-length and split at the sides, the links gleamed like jewels. Her long legs were encased in glistening black leggings, delicately reinforced by more silver chain-links around the upper legs, and a crimson cloak hung from her shoulders. Kollarin had never seen a more beautiful woman. As she entered all the warriors, including Asmidir, bowed deeply. Kollarin followed their lead.

Masrick tried to stand, pushing his arms against the sides of the chair, but his legs would not move. He slumped back, then a convulsion jerked his body in several spasms. Asmidir leaned over him. 'Your hunt was successful, Masrick. You are in the presence of Sigarni. Die happy!'

Spittle frothed at Masrick's lips and his eyes bulged. Then he was still, the open eyes staring unfocused at the man before him. The silver-armoured woman approached the chair and stared down at the dead man. 'Did he die of fright?' she asked Asmidir.

'No. He smeared poison upon his lips.'

The woman looked at Kollarin, who bowed once more. 'Why does this one live?'

'In truth I am not sure,' said Asmidir. 'He refused to hunt you, and I do not know why. He is the Finder, Kollarin. Do you wish him slain?'

Kollarin waited, his green eyes watching the woman's face. 'Why did you refuse?' she asked him.

'That is not easy to answer, lady,' he told her, surprised that his voice remained steady. 'A man appeared to me and asked me to spare you.'

'Describe him.'

'The face was powerful, deep-set blue eyes. His hair was silver-white, like yours, and he wore his beard in two braids.'

She nodded, then swung to Asmidir. 'Let him live,' she said.

*

The black man was about to speak, yet held his silence. Stepping back, he allowed Sigarni to dominate the centre of the room. Her armour he had brought with him from Kushir, intended as a gift for the warrior king the seer had spoken of. Asmidir had always pictured it upon the muscular form of a young man. Yet now, as he gazed upon her martial beauty, he could scarce believe he had not purchased it with Sigarni in mind. Everything about her was regal, and he wondered how he had failed to notice it before.

HisAl-jiin had cut the two prisoners free and both men were now standing and staring at the warrior woman. Fell bowed his head. Sigarni's eyes were fixed on the Outlander in the uniform of a soldier. Her hand closed around the hilt of her dagger, the blade whispering from its scabbard as she moved towards the man with deceptive grace. Only Fell recognized her intent. 'No, Sigarni,' he said, stepping in front of the soldier. 'This man saved me from torture at the risk of his own life.'

'No Outlander will live,' she said softly, almost without anger. 'Stand aside, Fell.'

'I claim the Cormaach on this man,' he said. Asmidir was puzzled, and he watched Sigarni's reaction carefully. She stood silently for a moment, then gave a cold smile.

'You would do this for an enemy?' she asked.

'I do. I sat with my arms bound and a glowing red-hot knife was before my eyes. Obrin stopped the officer, and struck him into the bargain. They were taking him back for torture and death. It would seem poor gratitude indeed if I stood by while he was casually slain. I ask for his life, Sigarni.'

'Stand aside, Fell, I would speak with this man.' Fell hesitated, for the dagger was still in her hand. For a moment only he failed to move, then he stepped back. Asmidir watched the soldier, Obrin. There was no sign of fear in the man.

'Are you aware,' asked Sigarni, 'of what has been said here? Do you understand the meaning of Cormaach}'

'I know nothing of your barbarian ways, madam,' said Obrin. 'I'm just a soldier, see. Untutored, you might say. So why don't you tell me?'

Asmidir could see Sigarni fighting for calm as she gazed upon this man in the hated uniform of those who had so brutally assaulted her. She'll kill him, he thought. She'll step in close and at his first wrong word ram the knife into his throat.

'He has offered to adopt you - to make you his son. How old are you?'

'Thirty-seven, by my own reckoning. I might be out by a year or two.'

'So, your new father is some fifteen years younger than you. You wish to be adopted, Outlander?'

'Is there a choice?' he asked.

'There are always choices," she said, moving in close. 'You saved Fell, therefore I am in your debt. You may leave here and make your way wherever you choose. I would like to kill you, Outlander. I would like to see the blood gush from your neck. But my word is iron. Leave now and no one will harm you.'

'What's the other alternative?'

'You are not man enough for it!' she snapped. 'Leave before my patience is exhausted.'

'Become a clansman, is that it? A rebel against the Baron, and the King?' Obrin laughed, the sound rich and merry. 'So that's what he meant, is it? This is the cross-roads.' He swung to Fell.

'Adopted me, did you, boy? Well, by God, you could have done worse. I'll walk your road - even though we all know where it will lead. So what do I do, lady? To whom do I pledge my sword?'

Sigarni was too surprised to answer, and Asmidir stepped forward swiftly. He spoke in Kushir and the twelve Al-jiin all dropped to their knees around the silver-armoured woman. 'You are in the presence,' he told Obrin, 'of the Lady Sigarni, War Chief of the clans. It is to her you pledge your loyalty.'

Obrin dropped to one knee before her, then lifted his hand to guide her dagger to his throat. With the point resting against his skin he spoke. 'This day I am become your carle, lady. I will live for you, and when the day comes I will die for you. This is the promise of Obrin, son of Engist, and sworn before God.'

Sigarni was silent, then looked to Fell, who still stood. As their eyes met, the tall forester dropped to his knees, 'My life is yours, Sigarni,' he said, 'now and for ever.'

Sigarni nodded, then approached Asmidir. 'We need to speak,' she said, and walked from the room.

Asmidir followed her.

Obrin and Fell rose together. 'Thank you lad,' said the soldier. 'You'll not regret it.'

'I believe that,' Fell told him. 'But will you? How will you feel when your countrymen face you sword to sword? It is no small matter.'

Obrin shook his head. 'Put your mind at rest, Fell. To you we are all Outlanders, yet we come from many parts of the realm. My people were mountain folk, conquered a hundred years ago. And I am the only one from my tribe at Citadel. Even that, though, misses the point. There are some things a man must fight for. That, I believe, is what Kollarin was trying to tell me. Is that not so?' he asked the man in green.

'Indeed it was,' said Kollarin, crossing the room and stepping over the corpses of the soldiers.

'I always wondered what it would be like to be a hero.'