Chosen of Mida

5 The Sigurri—and the strangeness of males

I awoke to find the chamber emptied, a single candle upon the wall remaining lit so that I might see about myself in the windowless place. I lay stretched out upon the floor cloth, my weapons remaining where I had left them, feeling as though I had not stirred once since Mida had sent me to the realm of dreams. Slowly did I raise myself to sitting upon the floor cloth, finding the need to stretch shoulders and neck before the cramp would leave them, again feeling that useless fury against being forced to the will of another as though I were a warrior-to-be rather than war leader of all Midanna. Certain was I that the new light had not yet come, for it seemed clear that Mida had done as she had to insure my readiness to depart with the males. Whether or not I willed it, whether or not the safety of my warriors was seen to, I would depart.

I rose to my feet with a growl of displeasure, then strode to a door and pulled it open. Without were warriors of the Hitta and Helda, clearly standing guard so that none might disturb my rest. Quickly did they step back from the expression I wore, speaking clearly of the need to gather in my temper, yet was the deciding far easier than the doing. A growl had I voiced and all growl did I feel, and let any who dared cross wills with Jalav of the Hosta. Silently did I stalk up the dim, empty corridor, trailing warriors who had been left to guard me, warriors who obviously wondered what being would be rash enough to attempt attack upon me. Had any dared, perhaps the dark mood would have somewhat been lightened.

Much of the dim corridor had I traversed before another Mida-forsaken fact came to light—or, rather, before the light. Beyond the windows the darkness continued, deep and unlit, yet with a pattering noise which forced its way to my attention. Fully afrown, I paused by a window to draw aside the thin cloth which covered it, immediately discovering the presence of thick, heavy raindrops covering the outside of the maglessa-weave panes. Without a word did I stand and stare at the evidence of the will of Mida, my thoughts turning blacker than they had been, and a warrior appeared to stand at my side.

“Jalav, Mida has spoken, and I am the one to whom she has spoken,” said Linol, her voice soft with awe and complete repentance. “All shall be as you say, now and forevermore. My Hersa will not accompany you.”

“Indeed,” said I, turning to look down upon the Hersa war leader. She, seeing my expression, paled somewhat, yet was she warrior enough to hold her ground. “I am pleased to learn that all is to be as I say, Linol. In that event, I say that there must be those who prepare mounts and weapons and provender for the journey which I and the males must undertake. All is to be fully prepared before the arrival of the new light, else shall there be those who are deeply in need of the blessing of Mida. Are my instructions clear to you, war leader?”

“Your instructions are most clear, war leader,” muttered this Linol, she who had required a sign of the will of Mida. “I shall see to them immediately.”

“And personally,” said I, causing her eyes to widen farther. A stiff, repeated bob of her head, and then was she off up the corridor, hastening to where her warriors waited, no whit curious as to whether my gaze followed her. A warrior of renown was Linol of the Hersa, filled with justified pride in her skill at arms, yet was she now no more than a warrior-to-be, taken to task by the war leader of her clan. Foul indeed was the mood upon me, so foul that even Linol saw. I glanced again at the window covering, seeing traces of blood from the battle which had raged in the dwelling, and thought it a pity that all battle was over; much could I have used the spilling of blood just then.

A faint hunger continued to cling to me, one I found myself unused to at such a time of the fey. Midanna do not ordinarily partake of provender when they arise, for to remain within a camp when upon the hunt or in battle may cost more in lives than any such provender might be worth. Should it be necessary, provender might be had upon the trail, yet would it be foolish of me to wait till I was upon the trail. I gestured a hovering warrior to me, spoke of my hunger, then followed where the warrior led.

Once the provender was well within me, I prowled about till I found the area where the preparation for the journey was then taking place. Four kand had been brought by Linol and her Hersa, that soft-skinned riding beast favored by city males. Much would I have preferred being mounted upon a gando, yet that clawed and scaled mount of Midanna warriors rubbed along badly with kand, and the males, unfamiliar with gandod, could not be mounted upon them. The lanthay I had brought from the north might well have served, yet that beast was not well suited to the greater warmth toward which we would ride. No, Linol had chosen wisely, both in mounts and in weapons to be taken; swords, daggers, spears and bows had been chosen for the males, as well as a spear and bow for my use. Small packs of provender and water skins adorned the necks of each of the mounts hung in balance, matched to the presence of the skin-wrapped bows and arrows. When once the rains had ceased, the bows might then be unwrapped. The tears of Mida fell steadily upon the kand and the grass, soaking all beneath it in the early, clinging dimness, yet was the wetness warm and pleasant, bringing a freshness to the air which the dwelling could not match. I stepped out upon a small covered area near which the kand were tied, gestured to the rain-soaked Hersa that they might return to the dwelling, then moved a short distance from the entrance to crouch down. The stone beneath my feet was damp from the mist which reached beneath the covering roof, yet was it insufficient to cool the impatience which had begun to build within me. I longed to be away and about my business, gone from the doing of city folk, shut of the need to direct the actions of obedient yet disobedient war leaders in a time of peace.

“Jalav.” The single word, spoken softly, intruded upon my thoughts and moved me again to annoyance, yet did I hold my temper still and look to see who spoke. By the entrance stood Ilvin, the pale-haired Hitta warrior I had first seen when I had come upon the Midanna camp, in the woods beyond the city. Sober was the expression upon the face of Ilvin, and determined was the look in her light eyes.

“Jalav, I mean to accompany you,” said she, quiet conviction to be heard in her voice, a single step bringing her within a pace of me. “No Midanna should find the need to travel among males alone.”

“Such is not possible, Ilvin,” said I, taking my gaze from her and returning it to the rain-soaked darkness which had begun, very faintly, to lighten. “Had I the wish to be accompanied, there are many among your sisters who would gladly see the wish fulfilled. The fact remains that I have no such wish.”

“Perhaps by cause of the fact that we are not Hosta?” said she, though without rancor nor attempt at insult. “Though we fail to be of your clan, Jalav, yet do we remain your sisters and loyal warriors.”

“You read me wrong, Ilvin,” I sighed, concerned at the possibility that she spoke the thoughts of others as well as her own. “Were the Hosta here, they, too, would be commanded to remain. It is the very fact that I ride with males, to a strange city of males, that I refuse to be accompanied by Midanna. In my service to Mida, I have been well taught the pain and shame which are the lot of a warrior among males. It is enough that I have learned this; I will not allow the lesson to be taught others, as it was taught to certain Hosta who once accompanied me. No, Ilvin, not again.”

I realized then that the tears of Mida were more easily visible, yet the rain was not the sight which held the eyes of my mind. Again I saw those warriors who had ridden into Bellinard with me, Fayan and Larid and Binat and Comir, four fine, strong warriors who had been made slave with me. Before we had been struck from behind, Larid and I had sent three of our enemies to the chains of Mida, yet had the doing been of little comfort when we, ourselves, were placed in chains. No, I would not again take Midanna to a city of males, save that our purpose was to attack.

“So you seek to take the burden of shame upon your own shoulders, to keep it from those who follow you,” said Ilvin, her voice odd after the moment of silence which had passed. “Now do I truly see the reason for your having been chosen by Mida to ride in her name. The breadth of your concern for her Midanna well matches the skill of your sword arm. And yet do I feel that our concern for you should not fall short of yours for us. It remains my desire to accompany you, Jalav, to share all that comes, even unto shame.”

“And how would you share the protection given me by Mida, Ilvin?” I asked, at last turning my head to look up toward her. “Should it be battle wounds which come, how would it be possible for me to see to the wishes of Mida and a wounded sister as well? Would you place me in the position of needing to decide between disobeying Mida and abandoning a sister warrior?”

“Certainly not,” said she, a sudden upset upon her, “and yet . . .” Her words stumbled to an end as she took a breath, searching for another gando upon which to mount her protests, yet was further argument impossible. This she saw after another moment and nodded her head slowly, in misery, acknowledging defeat in the manner of a true warrior. Seeing her unhappiness I would have spoken further, yet at that moment came a bustle which heralded the arrival of others.

“By the sacred loins of Sigurr the dark!” growled the voice of a male, hidden yet within the entrance. “The skies have opened upon us to bring interest to our journey, and the black-haired wench is not yet stirred from her bed! Should Sigurr continue to smile so upon us, we shall not live to ride home again!”

“We now stand unchained and uncaged Bershyn,” came another male voice, the voice of Mehrayn. “These weapons we now strap on were freely given, as are the kand which await us. The rains will eventually cease, and the black-haired wench may be roused from her bed. Those who discount such gifts from Sigurr soon find themselves without them.”

“Mehrayn speaks truly,” came a third voice, one filled with amusement. “Have you returned so soon to princely expectations, Bershyn? We have had no more than a single darkness of freedom.”

“What more does a warrior of Sigurr require?” returned the voice of Bershyn, now also filled with amusement. “Though I would prefer to have sunshine pouring down upon me, Grandyn, I must admit I do indeed agree with Mehrayn. Freedom is worth such small inconvenience. Now: which of us is to fetch the black-haired wench?”

“The one who goes is likely to be called upon to—ah—impress the wench,” said the one called Grandyn, causing laughter in the others. “After the darkness just past, we must first be sure the one chosen has the wherewithal to perform such an impression. With toothsome female slaves to divert him, a man often overextends himself.”

“Sight of that black-haired wench is enough to restore any man,” chuckled Mehrayn amidst the increased laughter of the others. “Should there be a need to impress, I doubt that any of us will fail—save, possibly, you, Grandyn. From the manner in which that slave clung to you when we gathered in the hall, I would say you were indeed tempted into overextension.”

“Only in part, Mehrayn,” laughed Grandyn. “When a need for impressing arises, I seldom find myself incapable. Shall we draw lots for the opportunity?”

Again the males fell to laughter, a thing which deepened the scowl upon the face of Ilvin. She, unused to the ways of males, felt prepared to defend me from insult, as the fist upon her sword hilt clearly showed. I, too well used to the foolishness of males, felt no insult, therefore did I rise to my feet and move to the entrance before Ilvin might do so.

“Indeed would I be impressed were I to find males prepared to depart at an appointed time,” said I to the backs of the males, interrupting their laughter and causing them to turn toward me in startlement. The four stood in their black body cloths swordbelts closed upon them, the black strokes upon their left shoulders clear even in the gloom. They stared upon me very briefly, and then the grins returned to them.

“It seems our opportunity is lost, Mehrayn,” said the darkhaired male, showing himself to be the one called Grandyn. “A pity, for it is truly said that an opportunity wasted is an opportunity regretted.”

“Long journeys provide their own opportunities,” murmured Mehrayn, his light eyes upon me in an easy manner. “That the wench is already prepared to accompany us must be looked upon as an omen from Sigurr. Without her, the journey would be as empty as that which brought us here.”

“War leader, you must allow me to accompany you!” blurted Ilvin in upset, astand to my left. “These males mean you harm of some sort, harm which you shall have to face alone!”

“Should it be the will of Mida that I come to harm, Ilvin,” I said, “your presence will not avert the thing. You have my thanks for your concern on my behalf, yet must I continue to refuse you. Should these males ever bestir themselves, it is their company alone in which I shall ride.”

“I believe the wench calls us laggard,” said the smaller of the two light-haired males with a grin. His voice showed him to be the one called Bershyn, he who disliked the notion of riding beneath the tears of Mida. “Are we to accept such cavalier treatment, brothers?”

“In no manner,” laughed Grandyn, briskly clapping the shoulder of Bershyn. “Let us be off, brothers, and we shall soon see who is to be the laggard. Are those spears meant for us?”

Lazily and with much laughter did the four males each take and examine a spear, finding little approval of the slim shafts of the city-male weapons, yet accepting them as the better bargain between their presence and no weapon at all. The swords and daggers they wore had also been taken from city males, yet were they deemed adequate to the needs of the Sigurri. Ilvin looked upon their frolicking darkly, totally displeased with the males, causing me to give silent thanks to Mida that the Hersa were not also about.

When the males had quit the entrance to examine the kand provided for them, I stepped within, took the spear which was mine, bid Ilvin a final farewell which was to be passed on to her sister warriors and Rilas, and then went to the kan which was mine. A fine, large beast was it, yellow and brown in color and eager to be off, and one jump saw me mounted with the spear in my right hand and the reins in my left. The tears of Mida beat down upon me in an unending stream, soaking my hair and the hide of the kan, yet was the wetness the blessing Midanna believed it to be, for it marked the end of my time in an accursed city of males. The Sigurri fussed about their kand, examining the provender packed for them, adjusting the wrapped bows on the necks of the kand, and abruptly I found myself without further patience. With a single movement I turned my kan, and trotted through the slowly brightening downpour toward the gate which stood not far distant.

At the gate stood a number of warriors, Harra and Helda by their soaken coverings, and quickly did they turn to open the gate when I rode up. The process, not being immediate, allowed time enough for a sudden flurry of hoofbeats to approach from behind me just as the gate swung wide enough for a rider to depart. Without turning to look at those who hastened behind me I rode through, paying no heed to the faintly heard laughter of the gate warriors. The Sigurri would not be pleased by such laughter, yet it mattered little. Males are rarely pleased with Jalav when she stands as a warrior, and the Sigurri were male.

Once Bellinard was well out of sight behind us, the rains began to ease. Within another hin the skies were clear, and Mida’s light shone down warmly upon us, drying us and setting the countryside we rode through aglistening with gold and silver. The males laughed and gave thanks to Sigurr, and well tempted was I to call upon Mida to return the rains she had sent for a purpose. My mood, however, had lightened with the skies, and I, too, wished no more of Mida’s tears. To allow the males to give thanks to their god was a small thing; to deny them the doing would ill befit the actions of a war leader.

We continued our ride till the first of the forests hove into view, then did we halt to rest the kand and take a meal. The Sigurri had addressed no word to me as we rode, yet once the nilno and cheese had been swallowed, the period of sweet silence was ended. As I stood contemplating the clean, rolling hills over which we had just ridden, wondering as to my wisdom in leaving Rilas and my warriors to deal alone with the males of Bellinard, the sound of footsteps came behind me.

“Do you contemplate a return to the city, wench?” came the voice of Grandyn, the dark-haired Sigurri. “Should that be your intention, there is a matter which first must be seen to.”

“For what reason would I be prepared to depart at the appointed time—and then consider return?” I asked, turning to regard the male. He stood close behind me, an amusement filling him which was increased by the first of my words. “And what matter is there between us that I have no recollection of?”

“You are wise in not recollecting the matter,” said he, well agrin as he stood with left hand resting upon sword hilt. The others of the Sigurri lazed upon the grass, chuckling with the amusement they shared with the one before me. “I am no longer weaponless and held in chain, kept from acting as a warrior should,” said this Grandyn.

“A true warrior acts as a warrior at all times,” said I, folding my arms beneath my life sign. “The absence or presence of weapons and chain makes little difference to one who is truly acquainted with warriorhood.”

“Well said!” called Mehrayn with a laugh, the others joining his laughter. Grandyn’s grin grew rueful, and his head shook slowly from side to side.

“You are quick to take a man up on incautious words, wench,” said he. “Perhaps I should have said I am now able to act as I wish in matters which involve swordplay. Should you cast your mind back to the first instance of your addressing us, you may perchance recall our discussion upon the point of challenge for insult given. Does the discussion begin to return to you?”

“Indeed do I now recall it,” said I, nodding at the sudden rush of memory. “So hurried were my preparations for departure, all speech and doings prior to them are much of a blur. What of it?”

“It is now the time to discuss the matter further,” said he, and again had his grin widened. “You no longer have your wenches about you upon whom you might call for assistance. Should I insist upon accepting the offer made then, you must face me alone. However, should we discuss the matter, we may perhaps find another alternative.”

Again came the chuckling of the other Sigurri, showing they continued to share an amusement, yet was the nature of the amusement unclear to me. One either accepted or rejected a challenge, one did not discuss it; challenge was a matter of blood, not words. I looked upon the Sigurri I faced, tall and broad in his black body cloth, his sword-belt a familiar weight about his hips, his barefoot stance firm and unashamed. These Sigurri were warriors, I knew, yet were they male as well and strange as all males. Perhaps the male was unaware of that which the challenge entailed.

“I am unfamiliar with the manner in which Sigurri conduct a challenge, I know,” said I, “yet do I know the manner in which Midanna see to it. The sole words spoken are those of challenge and acceptance, all else being seen to by swords. Should it be your wish to face me, I may not, in honor, deny you, which leaves little to be discussed. The Sigurri approach these matters differently?”

“In certain instances,” nodded this Grandyn, untouched by the usual sobriety marking such occasions. “Were you male, there would be no call for discussion, yet are you far from male. You may, delicious wench, appease my insult with your body rather than your blood, for my desire to plunge deep may be sated by use of other than a metal sword. That it must be one or the other is unarguable; I trust to your wisdom to choose correctly.”

The males, all agrin, awaited my response to this foolishness, mocking both myself and the concept of challenge alike. A warrior unfamiliar with the doings of males would certainly have grown exceedingly wroth, yet did I find it not worth the effort. Males are males, be they city male or Sigurri.

“There is but one choice to be made,” I shrugged, holding his dark, amused gaze easily. “I, having no more than a single sword which may plunge deep, may choose no other. The need to spill the blood of one I was meant to liberate does not please me, yet the demands of honor may not be refused. Three may lead me to your city as easily as four.”

“She already accounts you dead, Grandyn,” called the male Bershyn, joining the laughter of the others. “Beware her edge, for she is a mighty warrior.”

“And more stubborn than wise,” growled this Grandyn, displeased with my words, his left fist tightening about his sword hilt. “It must be clear that I would prefer your use to your death, wench. Do you seek an end to existence, that you refuse me such use? Are you not aware that I might take such use without your let?”

“Not while I have sword to hand, male,” I grinned, enjoying his dark humor. “Not for naught is Jalav the chosen of both Mida and Sigurr. My sword has already drunk deep of much male blood, yet has its thirst scarcely been slaked. Should you wish to add yours to that of the others’, you need do no more than speak of it. Happily will I face you.”

“And yet you were bidden by Sigurr to free us,” said the red-haired Mehrayn, raising himself from the ground to approach as Grandyn stood and frowned. “It would undoubtedly displease the god were you to spill the blood of one of us.”

“Then perhaps it would be my blood which was spilled.” I shrugged, truly unconcerned. “As Mida wills it, so shall it be. One’s fate cannot be escaped.”

“Yet, one need not spend each fey of one’s life seeking that fate,” returned Mehrayn, a dryness to his tone. “That a choice was given you clearly shows that this need not be a matter of fate. Grandyn has no wish to harm you; he merely wishes your use, as do we all. You know well enough your use will be ours during this journey, for we are men and will not long be denied. You, a female alone, must sleep at some time, and then will you be ours no matter the keenness of your sword. Those others of your wenches took gladly the pleasure we were able to give; you shall be no different from them.”

“And yet I am indeed different,” said I, looking up into his eyes, all amusement gone. “No longer am I able to find pleasure in the use of males, as my sisters do. Best would be that one of you face me now, male, to decide the matter for all time. Should you attempt my use as you say you intend, all your lives would be forfeit.”

I turned from their silent stares and walked some paces across the grass, giving thanks to Mida in my heart that no other Midanna accompanied me. To find no pleasure in males was a crippling lack for a warrior to own to, one which would earn me the pity of my sisters. These males, however, were more likely to show me scorn, and scorn is more easily borne than pity. I stopped and stood in contemplation of the forest we rode toward, attempting to avoid bitterness in thought, yet were my steps dogged by another, who stood himself behind me.

“You may address me as Mehrayn, wench,” came the voice of the male, again filled with calm. “The term ‘male’ is not inaccurate, yet does it strike the ear with nearly the force of insult. And I assure you that you need not fear a lack of pleasure, for you will surely be well seen to. Warriors of Sigurr are sustained by the god himself.”

Chuckling agreement came from the others of the males, yet did I feel a shudder pass through me at thought of the dark god. The manner of his use of me had been unbelievable agony, a fouling of my soul I would never forget. Stiffly, in slow madness, I turned to Mehrayn, my right hand reaching for my sword hilt.

“Not again will I know the touch of Sigurr,” I said, my voice part whisper, part growl. “This did I vow to myself when I was again able to think, and know the extent of what he had done.” My sword whispered from its scabbard, to point at the heart of the male. “Sooner would I find the final death, and forfeit my soul to the darkness. Free your sword, male, for we are done with words.”

A frown sat clear upon the features of the male, disturbance strong in the light eyes of him, his hand making no move toward his sword hilt. He merely stood and stared a moment, then slowly shook his head.

“I find myself at a loss to understand your words, wench,” said he, taking no note of the sword point at his chest. “Almost does it seem that your use has already been Sigurr’s, though you continue to live and walk among us. Such a thing is not possible.”

“Would that your belief were so,” said I, my point held steady upon him. “In Mida’s realm he was unable to take me, yet was it necessary that I strike a private bargain with him. His price was my use, freely given, and nearly did I fail to survive the doing. Perhaps it would have been best had I not survived, for I am no longer able to know pleasure from males. I have made the attempt, and much does it seem as though my soul were slain.” I paused, now seeing pain in his eyes, then said, “Why do you not bare your blade?”

“There is no need for the baring of blades,” said he, turning briefly to look upon the others of his males, each of whom nodded solemnly in agreement. “We are healthy men who much enjoy the use of toothsome wenches, yet are we also warriors with a knowledge of honor. There is no honor and little pleasure in taking a wench who feels her soul slain—and by the god whom we serve. Perhaps your soul merely slumbers deeply, girl. Should that be the case, we may discuss the matter again when it awakens. For now, I think it best that we continue on our way.”

He turned and walked from me then, joining the others in gathering their weapons and mounts, leaving me to resheathe my sword in some slight confusion. Never before had I met males with a sense of honor which neared that of Midanna. Much had I believed that males had no honor, yet were these Sigurri oddly different. Were their actions to prove a match to their words, it would sadden me when the Midanna were called upon to strike them down. Silently, with much to think upon, I untied the reins of my kan from my spear, freed the spear from where I had driven it into the ground, mounted, and followed after the males.

The balance of the fey and those following were of necessity much the same, yet was the boredom of travel lightened by the presence of the Sigurri. They clearly joyed in the freedom of the forests quite as much as I, and seldom was there a time when their laughter did not ring out to the treetops about us. Not again did they speak of the matter of my use, yet my efforts to remain aloof from their set was not permitted. The hand of us rode together through the shining green and gold and warm, dark brown, and therefore did they insist that I be treated as one of them. Never before had males done such a thing; had they been unable to demand the use of Jalav, they were in no other manner concerned with her. These Sigurri, however, gave to me the same amused attention they gave one another, drawing me from the depths of thought and laughingly within their midst.

Easily might it be seen that these males were truly fond of one another, yet were they constantly raising doubts concerning the abilities each may have had. All were subject to this jocularity, save that Mehrayn was spoken of least. Famsyn, the fourth Sigurri, he who was light-haired and larger than Bershyn, spoke only rarely, yet was he also a full party to the amusement. Each of the males took his turn as hunter for the set, providing the meat which was fed upon each fey, yet none was able to find the full approval of his brothers in what catch he returned with. The nilno was aged, the paslat was tough, the deglin was all bone and gristle, and so on. Brightly did the males await my turn at the hunt, already commiserating with me should I return empty-handed, swearing most solemnly that they would not fault me should they find themselves without provender for the fey through my ill-luck and inexperience. In turn, I thanked them most solemnly for their understanding, thought upon the matter in amusement, then, at the proper time, took myself into the woods. When I returned with a handful of lellin the males took pains to exclaim in surprise, then spoke gently against taking the kill of a child of the wild. The meat was often tainted, they said, therefore was I, in future, to attempt a kill of my own. Much amusement did the males hide behind faces of gentle admonishment, yet did their amusement swiftly fly when I, with a shrug of perplexity, released the lellin to do the same. I had taken the trouble to capture the lellin rather than slay them; lellin are wont to hang limply from the hand when held caught by the feet, and when I released them, wildly did they fly in the faces of the males in their attempt to escape. With ragged cries did the males throw themselves to the ground to avoid the lellin flight, and then, rather than grow angry, rolled about in the throes of such strong laughter that tears came to their eyes. I, too, laughed well at the jest, and then fetched the lellin which were meant to be fed upon. Once roasted, not a single word was spoken against them, and this, too, caused laughter.

A further point of some amusement was the manner in which Mehrayn wished to be addressed. The male disliked the term “male,” yet did he insist upon addressing me as “wench” and “girl” and “lovely one” and suchlike terms. The other Sigurri did I quickly come to call Grandyn and Bershyn and Famsyn, yet Mehrayn was “male” without apology or exception. His annoyance was clear enough when I addressed him so; when the others began joining me in the practice his annoyance grew three-fold. The laughter at this was more hidden than overt, for the males held him in high respect, yet laughter was there aplenty, urged on by the stubbornness shown by Mehrayn. Had he called me Jalav, as did the others, he, too, would have been named.

The feyd fled one into the other, and quickly did we find ourselves at the banks of the Dennin river. The Dennin marked the beginning of the lands of Midanna, and this the males seemed to be aware of. Without hesitation was the lead of the march given over to me, so that I might see us safely through the area. Though the nine clans of warriors who were sister to the Hosta had been left behind in Bellinard, the nine remaining clans who were sister to the Silla and enemies to the Hosta, remained to hunt and rove unopposed. Laughter was given over into silence, sleepiness in the warmth and light of the fey was exchanged for caution and vigilance, fires remained unlit, and each of us took turn standing guard through the darkness. Had we come upon enemy Midanna the males would again have fallen captive, yet my fate would not have been as pleasant as theirs.

More than a hand of feyd passed in creeping through Midanna lands, and much did the need for such creeping come to rankle. I, a war leader of not one but ten clans of Midanna, should not have found it necessary to act so, yet was I forced, by the needs of the task given me by Mida, to skulk about as though in fear of a meeting of blades. My humor grew black and snarling, and the males, seemingly aware of the cause of such a humor, ringed me closely as we rode, as though to keep me from riding off in search of battle. This, too, brought a growling to my throat, yet was there little I might do for it. The males were of a mind to protect me from my temper, and naught save swords would have seen the matter done differently.

At last were the lands of Midanna behind us, and the males, although still vigilant, again returned to laughter. I, still held by the front teeth of the dark humor which had plagued me, was not of a mind to join with them, therefore did I take myself off when a halt was called for the mid-fey meal. I knew the area of wood we rode through, for I had hunted and explored it well when still a warrior. Not far from where the males had halted was a small glade beside a pond, a cool, lovely pond where one might bathe and swim with great delight. The heat of the feyd upon this side of the Dennin was most welcome after the cold of the north, yet did it bring one a great desire for cool waters within which to bathe.

I left my kan tied in the shade of a tree and approached the pond, smelling as well as seeing the cool blueness of the water, sparkling beneath the gold of Mida’s light, in places rippling green from the trees which surrounded it. Had I intended merely looking upon it I would have been lost, for its call was so strong that I could not resist. Quickly did I drive my spear into the ground, remove my sword belt, dagger and leg bands, then undo the breech. About to step into the water, my life sign caught my eye, that life sign which had been transformed by Mida and Sigurr. Much effort had I put into forgetting the darkly roiling thing, yet would it be unwise to forget it to such an extent that it would be lost in the pond. No more than an instant did I ponder the question, and then was my dagger thrust into the ground not far from my spear, the leather of the life sign wound firmly about it. All would await my return in safety, for the dagger, given to me by Mida along with the matching sword, would surely be protected by the goddess herself.

Soft birdsong filled the golden air as I stepped into the cool, blue water, surrounding me as I lowered myself and began to stroke across the pond. How truly bereft were city folk, to know naught of the pleasures to be found without the walls of their cities, to live pent up as though they were slave, to bathe in narrow pots filled with water which was heated. To know no other thing than that would cause a warrior to sicken and die, yet were city folk pleased to have it so, calling warriors savages for not doing the same. I felt the caress of the water against my flesh as I moved through it, and knew beyond doubt that sooner would I be called savage a thousand times than lose the blessings which Mida has bestowed upon her warriors. To be savage is far superior to being city-pent.

I allowed myself no more than thrice a handful of reckid in the water, for no matter how lovely and compelling the pond was, the forest was scarcely a place to long remain unarmed in. Though only a few of the children of the wild would seek to enter the water to reach one, those few were enough to bid caution to a warrior. With regret did I once again stroke for the edge where I had left my weapons and kan, and only upon reaching it discovered another had found the pond after me. Mehrayn stood less than four paces from the pond’s edge, his eyes on me as I climbed dripping from the water, his hands holding the breech I had removed.

“By Sigurr’s blade, I believe I have found a water nymph,” said he, well agrin as his eyes moved busily about me. “I believe I shall carry you off to my camp, little nymph, for my brothers, too, would take pleasure in seeing you so. It is not often a man finds a nymph in the wilderness.”

“I do not know the meaning of ‘nymph,’” said I, squeezing a deal of the water from my hair, “yet do I know, male, that I am scarcely little. The breech you hold is mine, and I would have the return of it. ”

“This breech?” said he, raising it with brows arched, then did he look at it again and nod with sudden agreement. “Ah, I see you speak the truth wench, for the breech is indeed yours. So fine a piece of work could not be mistaken, even had I not seen it upon you these many feyd. The breech is indisputably yours. ”

“Then I would have the return of it,” said I, stopping before him and looking up into his eyes. Indeed did I somehow feel “little” before this large, broad male, yet the feeling was one best kept from my thoughts—and tongue.

“Of a certainty you may have it,” said he, holding the breech high so that I might see it more easily. “You need only reach for it to again have it in your possession.”

I saw no difficulty in doing as he asked, yet as I reached for the breech his arm raised it higher and higher still, continually keeping it out of my reach. With a small sound of annoyance for his foolishness I stretched high upon my toes, determined to regain what was mine—and then was his free hand at the back of my neck, pressing my body to his and holding my lips still for his kiss. Warm and demanding were the lips of Mehrayn, his body as warm yet harder to the touch; so startled was I that no thought of struggle entered my mind. Deeply was I kissed and tightly was I held, so deeply and tightly that a weakness was forced upon me, the likes of which I had not felt in quite some time. With shock it came to me then that my body was about to move against the male I was held to, just as though I wished the use of him! I had no understanding of the reason for the feeling, yet do I know that it would have come—had not the keren appeared first.

My kan’s scream of terror rent the air, silencing the birdsong and dragging Mehrayn’s lips from mine. As he whirled to stare about him, I, too, was able to see the forest at his back, and from the forest loped a large, brown keren, still upon all fours. My kan had caught the scent of the beast, and had I not been preoccupied with foolishness, I, too, would have scented it. Mehrayn cursed in a low voice and quickly drew his blade, then stepped forward as though to bar the keren from reaching me. The keren slowed as it neared the Sigurri, then raised up on its hind legs with a growl, clearly intending to engage the male. Raising up brought its height far above that of Mehrayn, and easily might it be seen that the outcome of a battle between the two was no predetermined victory for the male.

“Jalav, return quickly to the camp!” snapped Mehrayn, continuing to look only upon the keren. “I will hold it as long as I may, yet are you to go now!”

With another growl the keren swiped at the male, causing him to bend swiftly below the slashing claws and jump aside, swinging backhanded at the beast as he moved. The swing drew a scream of rage from the keren as a line of blood appeared on the brown fur, and no longer was the keren concerned with any save the Sigurri. It followed the male as though drawn on a leash, away from the wildly plunging kan—and away from Jalav.

No more than a small sound of annoyance did I allow myself before turning quickly and running the short distance to my weapons. To face an enraged keren with no more than a sword was a doing fit only for desperation—or a male. Swiftly was my spear drawn from the ground, and as swiftly did I return to the two engaged in battle. As I approached, the beast swiped again at Mehrayn, this time reaching the male who had been trapped by a tree at his back. The blow sent the Sigurri head over heels to the right, rolling to fetch up against another tree, his sword still firmly clasped in hand despite the thickening lines of red to be seen upon his shoulder and upper arm. In another moment the keren would be upon him; all time for waiting was at an end.

I took my stand perhaps four paces from the keren, then raised my voice in the cry of the zaran, a natural enemy to the keren. The screeing cry brought the beast around immediately with a snarl, thinking itself attacked by another child of the wild, presenting to me the target I required. Without thought did my arm go back and then forward, casting the slim-shafted spear of city males at the furious, advancing keren, sending the weapon hurtling into and through the throat of the beast. The keren choked upon its own blood and clawed at the spear, attempting to howl as it staggered in its forward rush, and then was it falling to the ground, its soul already sped. Fervent thanks did I offer up to Mida for having guided my arm, for the throw had been necessary, yet unwise. Keren have been known to lurch unexpectedly, throwing off the aim of any who were foolish enough to cast at any target other than its body, and had the Sigurri not been so close to it, I would not have attempted its throat. Mehrayn, beside the tree, lowered his sword at last, then breathed deeply of the sweet forest air about us.

“So much for that,” said he, wincing somewhat with the pain in his swordarm. “It is fortunate that you fetched your spear as I commanded, wench, else might there have been some small difficulty. ”

“I had thought,” said I, approaching him where he sat, “that you had commanded me to run, male. Was I mistaken?”

“Certainly,” said he with a large grin and a small laugh. “For what reason would I be so foolish as to send away so excellent a spear caster? Does it seem to you that I wish to join Sigurr’s eternal legions before my appointed time?”

“Certainly not,” said I, grinning down at his amusement. “Indeed must I have misheard you.”

“Indeed,” he nodded, his grin paling under the now-increasing pain of his wound. “And now, should you be so kind I would appreciate assistance in seeing to this arm and shoulder. The wound is a mere scratch, yet should it be cleansed and dressed.”

“I will fetch your brothers as soon as I have donned my sword and retrieved my spear,” said I, turning immediately to the place where my breech had been dropped. “Or perhaps you would care to ride my kan rather than remaining here unguarded. With a wound such as that, you will not soon again swing a sword with ease.”

Had I not glanced at him before bending to my breech, surely would I have missed his look of puzzlement.

“For what reason need you fetch the others?” he asked, staring at me. “Is your position among your wenches too exalted to allow you to offer assistance to a mere male? Or do you conceal a female-like squeamishness beneath that warrior-like exterior?”

His words caused me to straighten slowly with the breech in my hands, for surely was the wound affecting his reason.

“I do not understand,” I said, knowing my face reflected the confusion I felt. “For what reason would you ask assistance of one who was not of your clan? Most especially as your brothers are near to hand? Your wound is not so serious that lack of immediate attention would slay you. Was that your concern?”

“It is now I who suffers from a lack of understanding,” said the Sigurri, a frown creasing his broad face as he forced himself to his feet. “Among my people, a man asks assistance of those he trusts those who have proven themselves brothers to him no matter their origins. Should I be foolish enough to keep my trust from one who has already saved my life, great Sigurr would turn his face from me in disgust. That you did not expect my trust after your actions disturbs me. Did you think me so boorish as to be ungrateful?”

Full serious was his face as he looked upon me, his left hand grasping his right arm near the wound, a faint hurt to be seen in the lightness of his eyes. I took my gaze from his and replaced my breech, then went to stand above the keren to retrieve my spear.

“In my travels, it has been my experience that few males feel other than horror and fear at being shown my ability with weapons,” said I, pulling at the haft to free my spear. “As you are male, I expected little else. And as for gratitude, there is no call to feel such a thing. Had I not seen to the keren, it would undoubtedly have seen to me. You may tell yourself I acted only to save my own life.”

A moment of silence passed as the spear finally allowed itself to be withdrawn from the carcass; when I turned with it, intending to clean it beside the pond, I found Mehrayn directly in my path.

“Running as I bid you to do would have seen to the saving of your life alone,” said he, looking down at me from less than a pace away. “That you remained to face a beast which sought the life of another was an act of great courage, one I shall not ignore nor hold lightly, no matter your low opinion of those you term ‘male.’ I shall not forget I stand in your debt, wench—unless I succumb to these claw wounds through lack of attention. Am I to be forced to see to them alone?”

Once again his green eyes held to me, the lightness of his tone doing naught to alter the vow in his words.

I understood little of the intentions of this male called Sigurri, yet was it becoming clear that he was not completely like other males.

“I cannot fault you for distrusting your own abilities, male,” said I, leaning somewhat upon the shaft of the spear I held. “Are you able to make your way to the edge of the pond, or must this Midanna support you?”

“Oh, indeed must I be supported,” said he, a wide grin appearing upon his face. “Bring yourself to my left side, wench, so that I may put my arm about you.”

“Put your arm about this,” said I, plunging my spear into the ground before him. “I must go and retrieve my weapons, lest another child of the wild appear and take both our lives.”

His soft laughter followed me to the pond edge where I had left my belongings, yet did he make no attempt to prevent me from doing as I had said. He knew as well as I that the woods were not safe, especially for one who was unarmed. My swordbelt was quickly replaced, as were my life sign and leg bands and dagger, and then did I turn to Mehrayn, who had brought himself and my spear to the water’s edge. The claw marks were painfully deep in his flesh, yet not so deep as they might have been had he not allowed himself to be thrown aside by the force of the blow. The Sigurri made no sound as I washed the wounds and then applied a packing of mud to halt the bleeding, yet when we both rose to our feet, his uninjured arm moved swiftly to draw me close to him.

“I thank you for assisting me,” said he, looking down into my eyes. “Now that the scratches have been attended to, I would take up where we were interrupted.”

Again his lips lowered to mine, yet where I had had difficulty in holding myself from him the first time, the second gave me no difficulty at all. The strength of his arm about me and the feel of his broad body against mine bred no sense of desire, and after a moment his head raised with puzzlement clear in his eyes.

“I feel no response from you,” said he, releasing me so that I might step back from him. “Earlier I would have sworn I felt passion begin to rise in you, yet now— Am I mistaken?”

“You are mistaken only in believing other than that my soul is slain,” I shrugged, turning from him. “Had it not been, I would surely have responded to your touch. Do you wish me to clean your sword for you after I have seen to my spear?”

“Indeed,” said he in a weary voice, as he sat down on the ground. “I would indeed be grateful if you were to see to my sword. ”

No further words came from the male, and no further attempts to draw me close and soon were we within the wood, seeking the place where the others were taking their meal. We found them asprawl upon the grass in the shade of a large tree, Bershyn and Grandyn dozing while Famsyn kept a casual watch. Surely did it seem that they had anticipated a lengthy halt, yet their amusement at our too-speedy return fled when they spied the wounds Mehrayn had taken. The male had refused the use of my kan, preferring to walk as I did, and the exertion of doing so after the loss of blood had paled his face beneath the bronzed tan of his skin. Quickly were lenga furs brought forth to lay him upon, and all plans for continuing our journey were abandoned for the fey. Even Mehrayn knew he could not sit a kan for long, yet did the male chafe at the delay he caused. The others turned their faces from the foulness of his temper, sent two of their number to cut large portions of the beast I had slain, then declared a feast. All partook of the feast save Mehrayn, who slept from an herb added without his knowledge to the water given him to drink. Other herbs had I also gathered, those which would draw any poisons from his wounds, yet were the other males most grateful for the herb of sleep. Without it would Mehrayn undoubtedly have insisted upon standing his share of the watch.

No more than four feyd passed before Mehrayn insisted upon resuming our journey. That his wounds were on the mend was clear to all, therefore did his brothers acquiesce and break camp. Nearly two further hands of feyd were behind us before the male was able to begin stretching the stiffness from his arm and shoulder, yet was his swordarm as it had been before we neared the area of his city. At last a darkness came which was greeted by the males as the final darkness to be spent in the forests, and happily did they seek sleep after we all had fed. I, who had offered to stand first watch, moved about the camp in the heat of the darkness, glancing occasionally at patches of the brightness-filled sky which could be seen floating in gaps above black-colored trees. I knew not what sort of greeting I would find among the balance of the Sigurri, yet was I impatient to be done with the raising of them. I also knew not when the strangers would arrive near the city of Bellinard, therefore did I wish to rejoin my warriors as soon as might be. First would the strangers be seen to, and then the Sigurri—were they to come—and then would the Midanna ride to free the Hosta from Ranistard. With the Hosta free, Jalav would also be free, to seek an end to the involvement with gods which had so changed her life. I held the thought a number of moments, then sat myself before a large, dark tree, feeling a faint breeze stir the heat all about. The strong possibility existed that I would not be able to disassociate myself from Mida and Sigurr, yet was it necessary that I make the attempt. A great weariness lay asleep within me, one which would waken one fey to engulf me, and end the life of journeys which I had been forced to. Jalav sought an end to existence, yet must honor first be satisfied. I sat with the tree at my back and kept my watch, and then, when relieved, found sleep with no great difficulty.