“Heyla!” Keir called out, and the crowd around us returned his call with a loud shout of approval.
“Behold, the last two that contest for the position of the Warprize’s guard. They both meet with my approval, and so the winner of this combat shall have the position.”
Another cry of approval went up. Keir had met with each of the candidates the night before, talking to them about their duties and responsibilities. The man he knew from other campaigns. The woman had battle experience, but this was her first time under Keir’s command. Yers had given them both praise and Isdra told Keir she could work with either one. Marcus hadn’t had anything negative to say, other than his usual complaints.
“But this position requires one who is sharp of skill and wits. Who can both attack and protect. So, I have decided to change the rules.” That brought quiet, as everyone leaned forward, intent on Keir’s words. He smiled, his dark hair shining in the sun. “Marcus. Rafe.”
Marcus and Rafe moved to stand together, back to back, with something in their hands. They each paced out five steps, and then knelt to press something into the ground.
“Hear now the rules for this combat. Behind each warrior is a horsehair braid, tied between two stakes, a hands-length above the ground. The goal is to cut your opponent’s braid. Do you understand?”
Ander and Yveni both considered the ground as Rafe and Marcus moved away. They studied the stakes and the braids, and then took positions in front of them, facing each other.
Sal was to judge the combat, and she stepped forward at Keir’s nod. “Are you ready, warriors?”
They’d barely nodded when Sal cried “Begin!” They sprang forward, their blades clashed, the crowd roared, and the fight was on.
They were both using swords and shields and moved so fast I was sure to miss something if I blinked. The location of the stakes restricted their movements. While there was no formal circle, the warriors never wandered far from their braids. Keir and I were seated on a bit of higher ground, giving us a better view. Rafe and Prest were behind me, Isdra at my side, watching with a careful eye.
Iften and the Warrior-Priest were off to one side, also using the rise to their advantage, but making sure not to come close to Keir and I. The warrior-priest had a sullen look, but Iften seemed to be awfully pleased with himself, almost happy. I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a better look at his arm, which was hanging loosely at his side. I’d been told that the healing had taken place, with the sounds of chanting coming from Iftens’s tent, with clouds of purple-blue smoke billowing from the tent. But I couldn’t get a very good look, with all the people in the way.
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.