The Warrior-Priest was unhappy because Keir had warned off the rest of his party. He’d told them to return to the Plains, bearing the message concerning what had happened here. By the time he’d crawled into our bed, he’d been hoarse from the shouting. But the messages had been understood, and they departed in haste from the area. Apparently warrior-priests travel with some kind of servants, who care for their needs. Being without didn’t strike the wild man’s fancy.
In the morning light, my first impression still stood. The man wore only leather trous, and a ratty fur cloak. The colors in the tattoos were very bright, and I wondered how that was done. I didn’t recognize any of the designs. And his hair! I thought it looked remarkably like a rat’s nest, but I kept my opinion to myself. From the way people were standing upwind, he still hadn’t gotten rid of the skunk smell.
I forced my attention back to the fighting. Ander and Yveni moved, considering one another, each looking for an advantage. They’d exchange ringing blows, and then break off. To my eye it seemed they were evenly matched, with no one having a true advantage over the other. Ander seemed to have a bit more power behind his blows, but Yveni had greater speed. The fight continued, but my gaze was drawn back to Iften. Was it possible that he’d been healed? I looked back just in time to see the warrior-priest hand him something that looked like gurt, only brown in color. Iften placed it in his mouth, and started chewing.
I stiffened. His right hand, his sword arm. He’d used it with no obvious pain, grasping the food with fingers that I’d seen swollen and numb. The same arm that Isdra had broken.
How was that possible?
THWACK.
I flinched, and turned at the sound. Ander’s sword had bit deep into the wood of Yveni’s shield. He tugged hard, but the blade did not come loose.
Yveni moved back, trying to pull the sword from Ander’s hand. He followed, trying to rock the blade from its prison. Ander concentrated on his sword, never once watching his feet. She yanked the shield back again, dancing a few paces sideways. Ander followed, intent on his weapon.
It was the laughter from the crowd that finally drew his attention, making him look up and take stock of his situation. Yveni had danced him around, moving both of them, until she stood a mere step from Ander’s braid. Her sword arm was extended, the tip of her blade just under the taut braid.
Yveni grinned at him, her teeth flashing.
Ander shook his head, then laughed, raising both hands in the air.
A roar of approval went up as Yveni cut the braid.
In Xy, chess matches are quiet things. Two players, sitting at a table in silence, making moves on a board,
It was an entirely different matter for the Firelanders.
If I’d thought the crowd noisy for the combats, I wasn’t prepared for the enthusiasm for this new game. Aret’s idea for a living chessboard had been a good one, and the warriors chosen as pieces had decked themselves out in their very best armor, with a shine and a polish to the weapons that told me they’d been worked on for hours. They’d used armbands to designate their color, and the ‘pawns’ had tried to make themselves look as uniform as possible.
But under all the noise and bustle and laughter was an underlying tension. The division that I’d seen in the war-leaders was starting to be seen in the army. Oh, no obvious insult was given to Keir or myself. On the surface all seemed well. But the games of chess were seen as being
Xyian, and many had decided not to participate or watch for just that reason.
Not that the game seemed Xyian any more. To my horror, the time-honored pieces known as ‘castles’ had been replaced. Instead, the pieces were called ehats. I hadn’t heard of this change until the pieces took the board. Four warriors, two for each side, had stepped forward with fur cloaks wrapped around them, and huge horns carved from tree branches. The other warriors had to duck as they moved on the board, holding their heads low, and sweeping the area around them with their horns. Laughter filled the air as the ehats snorted and pounded the earth with their feet.
The players strode at the ends of the boards, some pacing back and forth as they shouted their moves. The crowd then would chant the words, until that ‘piece’ moved into its proper place.
Warleaders, warriors, and even Keir had entered the chess tourney. The games had taken days, and had absorbed everyone’s attention. Keir managed to win all his games and was in the final match.
His opponent was a woman that I didn’t recognize, whose name was Oone. She was a muscular, thoughtful woman, almost as big as Simus, with short red hair and brown eyes.
I was watching the game board from the rise, wrapped in a cloak against the chill wind. Prest and Yveni had the watch, and were standing behind me, acting as a wind break. The game area had been laid out with stones, and they’d managed to make the squares big enough that the knights could be mounted on horses. Which meant that the ‘pieces’ had to deal with some obstacles not normally found on a chess board. Still and all, it was an amazing spectacle.
Iften and the Warrior-Priest were avoiding the games, and were very vocal in their opposition. They wanted nothing to do with me, or anything remotely Xyian, which frustrated my efforts to get a good look at Iften’s arm.
But I had help.
Marcus came to offer me hot kavage. “Any luck?” I asked.
“Not so far. Isdra is trying to get closer, as is Rate. But they swear to me that it’s almost as if he knows what they are trying to do.”
Prest grunted. Yveni looked at him, then turned back to me. “Tell me again, why we are trying to see the Second’s arm?”
“Herself is curious.” Prest said.
I looked at him sharply, but his face was neutral. Some time after Yveni had won the combat, I’d found her with Keir, Rafe, Prest, Isdra and Marcus clustered together, their conversation serious and intent. They’d broke off their words as I approached, but I was certain that the quirks and foibles of one warprize had been discussed hi great detail.
“Ah.” Yveni nodded her understanding. “Do you wish me to try, Warprize?”
“Not yet.” I sat, watching Keir make his first move in the game. Oone was intent, but quick and the game seemed to move as fast as they could call out instructions to the ‘pieces and pawns’.
After a bit, Rafe and Isdra reported back, glum with their failure. I nodded, unworried. It stood to reason that Iften would know them, and anticipate their interest.
As Keir’s knight advanced to take one of Oone’s bishops, Cadr moved up beside me, and knelt, adjusting his boot. “I got a good look, Warprize.”
“And?”
“Not sure. He has his bracers strapped tight over his leather sleeve. He is using the hand, and flexing the fingers. I thought they looked a little swollen, but I saw no sign of pain.”
“Pity.” Isdra said.
I kept my attention on the game, and my voice soft. “My thanks, Cadr.”
He stood, and moved off into the crowd without looking back.
I settled back on my stump, and pondered what that might mean. Magical healing? I’d read about it in stories, but could the warrior-priests wield that power?
A wave of pure jealousy washed through me. To be able to heal everything with the touch of my hand. I’d give anything to be able to ease pain, mend wounds that way.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t really see the game, until the crowd cheered, and I looked up to see that Keir and Oone had reached a draw. Oone studied her remaining pieces carefully. “I could offer you a warprize.”
Keir threw his head up, and glanced over in my direction. His eyes were bright, his smile so bright it took my breath. “Oh no, Oone. I have claimed my warprize, and will have no other.”
I blushed bright red, warmed to the tips of my toes.
Keir looked back at his opponent, over the heads of the joyful crowd. “Oone, I think instead that your warrior-priests would leave you in this instance. What say you?”