“Now you need no longer think of challenging a man, wench,” said Nobain, laughter full in his tone as I fought in vain to flex my hands against the flaming pain. “You are no longer able to hold a sword, yet have you been left able to hold another thing, elsewhere than in your hands. Each man here shall have you, and then we may speak again of challenge.”
A snarl of unbounded hatred took me as I looked up at the male, my blood dripping freely to the stone before me. To Mida did I swear that I would have his throat out with my teeth if he were insane enough to approach me without the aid of others, and indeed did he sheathe his sword and begin to move toward me. The blood which fell from his arm gave him no pause, yet was he able to take no more than a single step before the voice of another brought him to a halt.
“Perhaps you will speak of challenge with me,” came the words of an angry voice I recognized. Nobain spun about to see the broad form of Mehrayn, astand with sword gripped tightly in fist, thoroughly enraged. Beside Mehrayn stood Chaldrin, a deep coldness in the depth of his eyes. Here and there about the cavern appeared other black-clad males of the Sigurri, perhaps two hands of them, all with weapons drawn, bringing gasps and moans of shock from those who stood with Nobain. No idea had they of the manner in which the Sigurri had appeared so abruptly, nor was I more well informed than they; the Sigurri had come from out of the air, it seemed, at a time when their enemies had least expected them.
Nobain was given no opportunity for reply; in the blink of an eye were the two sets of males upon one another, those of the caverns seeking to best the intruders with the weight of greater numbers. Swords rang and males cursed and lunged, yet was it immediately clear that my earlier thoughts upon the skill possessed by those of the cavern was truth: by ones and twos they quickly fell before the warriors of Sigurr, and then was Nobain’s set the target for their swords. Nobain himself faced Mehrayn, a male who now fought much as a Midanna would, giving no heed to what his opponent might attempt, concerned with naught save downing him. Nobain fought wildly and with great fear, seeking desperately to preserve his life, yet was his sword struck savagely aside, Mehrayn’s sword seeking and finding an avenue to the center of his skull. He who had professed himself a follower of the Serene Oneness fell to the stone of the floor with his head cloven in twain, and then was Chaldrin before me, blocking off sight of all else.
“Stay as you are, wench,” said the male of other caverns, looking carefully about to make sure no enemy male approached before he crouched down before me. Large and broad and thick in the waist was Chaldrin, dark-haired and dark-eyed and thickly covered with dark body hair where his white body cloth did not cover him. Also did he continue to wear a white cloth about his middle to cover the wound I had given him, yet had that wound not kept him from seeing his sword well streaked with red. He set his weapon upon the stone beside him, within easy reach should the need arise, and then attempted to take my hands in his.
“No, you must let me see them,” said he, referring to my withdrawal. So great was the pain I felt that the cavern had begun to move somewhat about me, as though it had come loose from the rock and stone which held it. I had no wish to give voice to that pain, yet I might were the gaping, bloody wounds to be touched.
“You may see my hands as you wish, male,” said I, my voice far too thin and small, “yet are you not to touch them. They have already been touched by those who are male, and have no further need of such helpful attentions. When my Midanna have regained themselves, I will have what aid I require.”
“By then you will have bled to death,” said he, annoyed, as he glanced at the warriors behind me. “They are all of them senseless from the exertions they attempted, and Sigurr alone knows when they will recover. The Sword believes you safely attended to by me, therefore does he lead his men in pursuit of those followers of the foul Oneness who have fled to escape a well-earned death. Will you give me the necessity of having to face him when he returns to find that you continue uncared for?”
I had seen that Mehrayn had indeed led his males deeper into the caverns in pursuit of those who fled their swords, nor had I missed the searching look he had sent toward me before departing. All thoughts in my head had grown fuzzy-edged through the presence of blazing, throbbing pain, and abruptly was I seated upon the stone rather than kneeling upon it, my bloody hands somewhat cradled at my middle.
“The decision is mine, therefore shall his anger be mine as well,” I muttered, looking curiously about at the torches which had illuminated the cavern. All continued to burn as they had earlier, yet in some manner their light had begun dimming and darkening. “Should his anger come, it may join that of Mida, which continues to pursue me. I must depart this place and again take up my task, else shall Mida be taken with fury rather than anger—”
Without further strength for words I left off speaking, but had I forgotten the dimming of the torches. When I attempted to rise to my feet, their light went quickly to blackness.
I awoke more slowly than was usual with me, feeling a heavy sluggishness that was unexplained till I attempted to put my hands to the fur I lay on and push myself to sitting. Sharp pain flared, causing me to draw my breath in sharply. Memory returned then of what had occurred before the darkness took me, and I raised my hands to see the red-dotted cloth which covered them from wrists to fingertips. Surely had Chaldrin been the one to tend me, and in some manner had lessened the pain which had earlier held me-when I made no attempt to use the hands. It was necessary to raise myself to sitting without them, a thing which had been accomplished more easily at other times.
Once erect I looked about, wondering how I had come to that place. A small chamber of stone was it, lit by a torch and closed off with a stout, metal-clad wooden door. Within the chamber stood some few wooden kegs and assorted sacks, putting the odor of dried provender and much falar in the air. To the rear of the chamber, beyond the sacks and kegs, had a fur been placed, the one upon which I now sat. I moved somewhat in discomfort and annoyance, unable to free my hair properly from beneath me, unable to catch sight of where my sword and dagger had been put, and then was the great wooden door thrust open so that Mehrayn might enter. Carefully did he bring within two wooden pots, one carrying the odor of cooked nilno, the other the odor of lellin broth, and when his eyes touched me, he smiled.
“Jalav, you are awake!” said he, bringing forward the bowls to set them upon the stone by the furs before returning to the door to close it once again. “Chaldrin assured me that the balm would take the pain from you, and I would know if he spoke the truth.”
Closely were his eyes upon me as he returned to crouch before the furs I sat upon, a deep anxiety clear in the green pools which sought my soul. Much had I felt the absence of this large, red-haired Sigurri, yet to speak of my feelings would have been idle. Jalav rode as Mida sent her, and none would be allowed to lure her from that path.
“The pain has been taken so long as I remain unmoving,” said I, aware of how thick my tongue continued to feel. “Perhaps, after a short while, it will aid during movement as well. You have my thanks for your assistance, male. The other knew naught of honor and shamed himself in challenge, yet cared not. Much would it have pleased me to have taken his life myself, yet am I nearly as well pleased that it was you who was given the pleasure.”
“Pleasure indeed,” said Mehrayn, a merciless look claiming him as his voice hardened. “I recalled the man as soon as I faced him, for I was one of those who pursued him when he fled our city. His crime was the senseless murder of a temple slave, a foul act which sickened all who learned of it. The slave was tortured before attaining the release of death, and for no reason other than that it pleased the filth to do her so. Had we caught him before he took refuge with those who follow the Oneness, he would have been put to death in the same manner as she whose life he took. How did you become entangled with him?”