“I shall not allow you to squirm free of me, wench,” he said with soft laughter, his right fist tangling in my hair. “There is punishment yet to come to you—as soon as I am done with giving thanks to Sigurr.”
Again did his lips come to me, this time with greater strength, and no longer was I able to consider protection.
The coming light of the new fey was not evident within the crowding dimness of the large cavern where Nobain and many of his males had been slain, yet was the presence of so many newly awakened folk ample evidence of its nearness. Provender had already been prepared and offered to those who had desire for it, and Mehrayn’s males sat about and fed slowly, attempting to chase the mists of sleep from their eyes. It came as no surprise that it was the town female and two Sigurri females who had been chosen to prepare the provender; what surprise there was came from the manner in which they looked upon me when I stood before them. Their haughty up-and-down appraisal attempted to dismiss my presence, it faltering only when I straightened to my full height and rested left hand upon sword hilt. Foul was the humor of Jalav that fey, and fortunate were the females for seeing this so quickly. I had no desire for the provender they had prepared, yet had I a great need of it; had I found it necessary to demand that provender, their haughtiness would have been keenly regretted.
With hastily given paslat and dark baked grain and falar, I took myself to a solitary corner of the cavern and sat, giving no note to the coolness of the stone. Soon enough would the heat of the forests bring the slickness of sweat to my flesh, and quickly would the cool of the cavern be no more than faint memory. I would depart as soon as I had filled the Mida-sent hollow within me, that hunger whichever came in the wake of the crystal’s healing. Had I not had the hollow to contend with, I would surely have already been upon the trail.
“It pleases me to see you hale and strong again, wench,” came a familiar voice. Chaldrin stood above me, partially shadowed, the steps of his approach so silent that they had not intruded upon my thoughts. I sank my teeth into the flesh of the paslat, tearing out a great chunk upon which to chew, giving the male no least sign of recognition. I had no desire for the company of any male, and wished the fact to be made plain to Chaldrin, yet was he male and unconcerned over remaining where he was unwanted. A deep silence descended when I spoke no word, and then was Chaldrin crouching beside me.
“Do you mean to hold all men culpable for what was done to you by the Sword?” he asked, his tone held low so that it might reach my ears alone. “All men are no more responsible for the doings of one, than all wenches are to be taken to task for the doings of one of theirs. Mehrayn was filled with great fury when the Shadow appeared bearing your life sign, and deeply did he vow to see you punished for thoughtless foolishness. Was he overly harsh with you?”
I tore again at the paslat flesh with my teeth, near to a growl at thought of Mehrayn’s doings of the darkness. My hunger for him had been no less than his for me, and fully did we merge for an endless time, feeling more than simple pleasure of the flesh. Truly did I wish to weep as a city slave-woman would when he withdrew from me, for I knew I was bound to leave him behind once again and continue on the path demanded of me by Mida. I took his broad face in my hands, pressing my lips to his a final time, rose to sitting to seek out my breech, and then he had—
“Should that male approach me again, I shall have his life,” I snarled low, reaching for the falar I had had the city females pour for me. “Mida take me if I fail to do so.”
“And I have sworn to stand with you,” said Chaldrin with a deep sigh, hanging his forearms upon his broad thighs. “A pity the Sword will not hold his stroke against me as he shall with you. Perhaps your Mida will find a place for me as you do not.”
“Should he hold his stroke with me, he will not retain life long enough to face another,” I informed Chaldrin. averting my eyes as I replaced the falar after one swallow and returned to the paslat. “Perhaps in future, however, you would be wise to consider carefully before giving your oath to stand beside another.”
“You are undoubtedly correct,” said the male with his deep-voiced chuckle. “I am, however, still in the midst of the first oath, which shall also undoubtedly continue to hold my attention for some time. Do you mean to say you would strike at one who would not defend himself from you? That you would take his life though yours was not in jeopardy? I had not thought the coward’s stroke to be among those you would use.”
Again I growled low in my throat, this time sending a venom-filled glare toward the male, yet his dark eyes refused to look away from mine. Though I enjoyed the thought of facing Mehrayn with blades, indeed would I feel the coward striking at one who had vowed to raise no weapon against me. My sword and dagger had I found immediately without the room I had passed the darkness in, yet had I not returned to sink a blade deep in the sleeping body of he who was Sigurr’s Sword. Though the male had earned that and more, honor forbade that I do him so.
“And yet the coward’s stroke is not beyond others,” said I, tearing at the paslat as my eyes held Chaldrin’s. “The strength of a male is greater than that of a warrior, much as though I were armed and he was not, yet his stroke was not withheld. For what reason, then, should I withhold the stroke of my blade?”
“For the reason that his stroke might have been avoided, had you taken the trouble to learn what I had offered to teach you,” replied the dark male, his tone unrelenting. “Perhaps your efforts would still have come to naught, for the Sword is not unskilled in this manner of battle, yet would you have found yourself able to strike a blow or two which would not have gone unfelt. Would there not have been satisfaction in knowing that even in defeat you had given nearly as well as you had received?”
The question the male posed hung between us, for I would have given much to have been able to strike a telling blow against Mehrayn. So large was that male, and so strongly made—was it truly possible Chaldrin spoke without deceit? I took my eyes from the male of the Caverns and put aside the paslat bones, then took up the dark baked grain. Had it not been necessary that I depart immediately upon Mida’s work . . .
“Jalav.” The softly spoken word was in a voice other than that of Chaldrin, higher and considerably more hesitant. I raised my eyes to see Ilvin to my right, astand as though she were a warrior-to-be and I a Keeper’s Attendant who had cause to be cross with her. Indeed was I the war leader of her war leader, and indeed had I cause to be cross with her.
“So, Ilvin, you felt the need to take a short ride through the forests, I see,” said I, staring up at a warrior who stood with head down and light eyes elsewhere. “Perhaps I have attained greater age than I had thought; surely do I recall having commanded you to remain with your sisters. This, however, cannot be, for what warrior would disobey her war leader?”
“Jalav, I meant no disobedience!” she begged, light eyes now beseechingly upon me. “Those males gave no respect to the greatest warrior among us, and deeply did I feel that they would cause you harm! I followed after so that I might be at hand should you require one to stand beside you, yet did I take care to stand well away from Mida’s work! Had I known my capture would draw you from the return path to those who wait, surely would I have first taken my own life and stood in dishonor before Mida.”
“For one who meant no disobedience, there was disobedience aplenty,” said I, taking the baked grain and the falar and rising to my feet. Ilvin continued to look upon me with great anxiety, knowing the duty one owed to a war leader, knowing a war leader’s word was ignored at a warrior’s peril. The reason she had disobeyed was insufficient, for she had chosen her own estimation of the situation over mine—and then had been proven in error. At such a point one must either challenge the war leader in order to join Mida with weapon honorably in hand, else must the erring warrior accept punishment sternly given. “When I have returned to Bellinard,” said I, “I shall expect to hear from your war leader what punishment was given you—and how well you accepted it.”