The Wyrmling Horde

"Emir Tuul Ra of Dalharristan, I challenge you to a duel!" Talon intoned. "I fight for honor, and for the right to take endowments to battle the wyrmling horde and save my brother."

The emir s face was still turned to the side. He worked his lips, and spat blood and spittle onto the ground. Then he looked up at Talon and smiled wolfishly.

The emir knew what she was after. The Cormar brothers, Tun and Errant, could gather endowments easily. Their skill was legendary, and those who were capable of sacrificing their own brawn or grace would gladly make a gift to such worthy warriors. But Talon was no one, a girl, and among the warrior clans no woman challenged a man, unless she sought only to humiliate him.

"Are you of an age where you can even make such a challenge?" the emir asked.

He studied Talon s demeanor. She was a handsome girl, and strong. He admired her spirit.

But he could not let her make a fool of him, not if he hoped to win the endowments that he d need to free Areth Sul Urstone.

His question seemed to have caught Talon off guard.

"On your world," she said, "I am eighteen years. But on the other I was seventeen. It is not that I was born at different times, but that the years on this world are shorter than on the other."

She stopped her rambling, focused on the question. "In both worlds, I am old enough to make my own decisions in life."

"Then I hope you know what you re doing," the emir whispered. "This is dangerous. I won t hold back. For my people s sake, I can t hold back." It was not an idle threat. The Emir Tuul Ra knew that he was the finest warrior of his generation.

Talon gave him a wolfish smile of her own. "I can take the best that you ve got-and more."

The emir sighed. He didn t want to fight her, but neither could he refuse the challenge.

In part he did not want to fight her because Talon was the daughter of a friend. And she was young, too young to know what she was doing.

But more important, he had just been in a council meeting attended by Glories. There had been a sweetness in the room, a feeling of inner cleanliness, so profound that it had made him want to weep.

It made him want to be like them. He wanted to feel holy, to carry his own inner peace with him.

How could I bear it, he wondered, if I were to take the life of this girl?

Yet he knew that he was the best warrior for the job. The life of a friend and comrade hung in the balance. He could not spare the girl, for to do so would put his friend, and the future of his people, in jeopardy.

"I have no choice but to accept your challenge," Tuul Ra said.

It was raining when they exited the cave. The thunder that had shaken the sky earlier was gone, but the emir could hear it growling on the horizon. The skies were so leaden gray that it seemed that it was night, and rain was falling in sheets out on the grasslands.

But the magnificent pine of the netherworld held the storm at bay. A few great dirty drops splashed from the limbs of the tree, but it shed most of the water well beyond where they stood. The storm s only effect was to make a rushing sound as the wind tore through the pine boughs, and the treetops swayed under its onslaught.

Talon followed the emir onto their battleground, out at the far edges of the tree, where the light would be better. Pine needles and twigs lay thick all around, creating a soft carpet that crackled underfoot. The emir reached down with a toe and dug a large circle in the ground, roughly forty feet in diameter.

"To cross this line is to admit defeat," he said.

Talon nodded in understanding. As the challenger in this duel, she was forced to ask, "Choose your weapon!"

Choose the sword, he thought. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do. A bastard sword would be perfect for her, both in weight and size. He wanted to give her that much advantage. But a skilled warrior would recognize what he d done.

"Wyrmling battle-ax," he said. It was a heavy weapon-almost too heavy for a human to use. But it was a favorite of wyrmling warriors, and no doubt, if the girl hoped to enter the wyrmling keep, she d have to show that she could deflect a blow.

The weapons were brought forward, and Talon regarded them in silence.

The wyrmling ax was not a weapon to be trifled with, nor was it easily controlled. If the emir took a swing, he realized, he could not pull back.

Talon would either have to block it or dodge it-or get sliced in two.

They took their axes, heavy things with double blades. Each weighed roughly thirty pounds. They were made for lopping off heads and arms.

The emir felt the edge of his blade. It was filled with nicks and had grown dull. There was blood on it. This was not a weapon human-made. Someone had taken it as a trophy of war, won it at the battle at Cantular.

If Talon got hit, her death would not be pretty.

If he got hit, his death would not be easy.

I cannot win this battle by slaughter, he suddenly realized. If the girl defeated him, no one would grant him endowments. And if he killed her, the horror of the spectacle would turn the people against him.

The only way to win, he realized, is to throw her from the arena.

One of the warlords stepped forward and drew a line at the center of the circle. The warriors faced each other, one on each side of the line.

The warlord held a coin in the air. When he let it drop, the battle would begin.

The emir studied Talon for a moment, eyeing the way that she held her ax. There were numerous fighting styles with the ax. Some men might hold it near the end of the handle, and take large, sweeping strokes, relying upon the weight of the weapon to do its damage. Such men were dangerous on the attack, but left themselves vulnerable.

Other men sought to balance the ax. They might block a blow with their axhead, hoping to ruin an attacker s weapon in the act. Or they could reverse the ax and use its handle to stab quickly.

A man who was quick with his hands could adjust his grip from one second to the next, using a number of tactics.

Talon held her ax with both hands, keeping it firmly balanced, unwilling to give away her battle tactics.

The emir spun his ax in one hand, limbering his muscles.

"Talon," the emir said. "I don t want your blood on my hands. There is still time to withdraw-with honor. I beg you to do so."

"If I m willing to risk my life against wyrmlings," Talon said, "I ll risk it against you. It makes little difference where I die."

The emir nodded his agreement, and Talon added for good measure, "If it is any consolation, I don t want your blood on my hands, either. I urge you to withdraw. If you don t… well, one of us won t be going home for dinner."

The warlord looked each of them in the eye in preparation for the battle.

The Emir Tuul Ra thought, There is no room for error with these weapons. I can t just look good, I must be good.

The warlord dropped his coin, and both combatants instantly sprang back a step, giving the warlord time to break clear of the battlefield.

Talon stood perfectly still, conserving her energy, sizing up the emir. She did not want to reveal her tactics, or her repertoire of skills, too early in the battle.

The emir took his battle-ax and began stalking around the circle, twirling it in one hand, ready to lunge in and swing.

After an instant, he paused, stood with his ax lowered at his side, and offered, "Ladies first."

Talon couldn t resist.

She twirled her own ax, not as a demonstration of her prowess, but in the "Circle of Steel" style-which lent itself to defense but could swiftly turn into an attack.

Then she exploded for the kill. She raced in, her eyes pinned to the emir s, watching in order to anticipate his next move. She raised her own ax slightly, as if she would go for the throat, then dropped beneath his guard, rolling as she swept past his feet.

The crowd erupted into shouts of astonishment at her speed, and she nearly took his leg off with her first swing, but her ax met only empty air.

The emir leapt so high that he nearly seemed to take flight.

Many in the crowd gasped in astonishment, for though they had heard rumors of his prowess in battle, they had not all seen him in action.

He came down, his own ax slamming toward her.

His heart was filled with regret, for he knew that it was a killing blow.

Talon waited until he was committed to the attack, and the last instant planted the handle of her own ax firmly into the ground with the head of the ax up high.

She caught the head of his ax on her own.

His blade shattered; sparks and shards of steel flew out. One hit Talon in the throat, and instantly blood coursed down her neck.

But he didn t give her time to recover; the emir reversed his axhead so that he came at her with a fresh blade, and struck again.

Talon leaned away, and the emir s blade narrowly missed her foot.

With one ax blade broken, the emir s weapon would no longer be balanced. It meant that his swings would require more energy to control, but were also more likely to go awry. It was a dubious advantage.

Talon swung at his unprotected back.

The emir tried to dodge, but she grazed his flank, then danced out of range.

"Getting slow in your old age?" Talon asked. "There s still time to withdraw."

The emir grinned. "What, and miss sparring with such a lovely opponent?"

Talon glanced back, grinning at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. He had never fought a woman before, and suddenly her beauty and her vulnerability smote him.

He stepped back a pace, wishing that he were not here, feeling like a cornered animal. I m not just fighting her, he realized, I m fighting all of my protective instincts.

The emir circled wide, then rushed at her again. He was used to ranging the fields and woodlands, doing a hard day s work, and he knew that he could put up a good, long, sustained fight. But what he couldn t know was how hard she had trained, in those days when with every moment, she had to watch her back for assassins.

For the next five minutes, the two of them raced around the ring, putting on a demonstration of skills that both of them had purchased with a lifetime. Many were the cheers and the ooh s and ah s of the crowd. Many times he feared that he would kill her with the next swing, and many times she survived, until he began to realize that he might well have met his match.

Sweat began to glaze his brow, and it made Talon s long red hair cling to the sides of her face. Both of them began to pant from exertion, but she seemed to be able to go on all day.

The axes whirled and sang. The two of them danced away from blows and took them head-on.

Some old graybeards began to murmur in astonishment, "In seventy years, never have I seen two such worthy opponents!"

Within moments, the entire crowd began to take up chants, some cheering for the emir, some calling, "Talon, Talon, Talon!"

The emir felt grateful. He suddenly realized what Talon had done. Whoever won this battle would truly gain the support of the people, enough support to take endowments.

But he could not let her win.

This is Aaath Ulber s daughter, he thought. We fought side by side. Dare I betray a friend so? Dare I kill his child?

Suddenly he realized that he had been holding back, making a show of it. He hadn t truly committed to a killing blow.

If she lives through this next one, he decided, she will have earned a victory. If she can beat me, she truly deserves the honor of saving her brother.

He swung mightily, giving it all that he had.

It was dangerous for her to try to block such a blow, for her ax handle could easily break. But among the warrior clans, a warrior needed to demonstrate the strength to take a blow in order to win her people s approval. Talon lunged in, forcing the emir to try to shorten his lop in midswing.

She brought up her ax handle and braced herself for a crushing blow. It landed with such a jolt that the emir s joints ached and his bones seemed to shiver.

The audience cheered.

To the emir s astonishment, she not only managed to block the blow, she smiled through it.

Then Talon pushed her weight back and leapt in the air, doing a complete somersault. Two more leaps and she was at the edge of the circle.

The emir charged, his ax spinning, though with one blade shattered it was a bit wobbly. He tried to swing with his own version of the "Circle of Steel," but had never had to practice with such an unwieldy blade.

Talon committed to a lop, a downward stroke that could split a man in two. He halted a hairsbreadth before the blow landed and had brought his own ax handle up to block.

It will be a simple matter to kick her from the ring, he thought.

Her blow landed, and immediately the emir prepared to kick her in the chest, pushing her from the ring, but quicker than thought Talon grabbed his ax and somersaulted over his head. She held on to the handle as she flew, so that it rose in the air.

Instantly she was over his head, and she jerked the handle tightly, so that she and the emir were standing back-to-back, with her gripping the handle while it rested against his throat.

Her momentum gave her the advantage, and when she hit the ground she merely arched her back, tipping the emir up onto her shoulders, so that she had him in a stranglehold.

The emir s back was upon hers, and though he kicked, he could find no place to land his feet. She had the ax handle to his throat, and he could not break her grip. She was strangling him. He kicked and twisted, struggling to break free.

Where did she learn this move? he wondered.

Not on this world, he realized. I ve seen hundreds of ax fights. This tactic is not from this world.

The crowd gasped and broke into applause for Talon.

The emir struggled, strangling, as she balanced him on her back. It would have been a small matter for her to jerk the handle forward while shrugging at the same moment, and thus break his neck, or at the very least, crush his esophagus.

The crowd was wild with anticipation, watching their finest warrior struggle, at the mercy of a mere woman.

She has them, the emir thought. She has won.

Talon turned a half-circle and lifted up a bit. The emir gasped, and then got a fresh grasp on the handle of his ax. He planned to renew the fight-just as Talon dropped her shoulder and threw him-out of the ring!

Amid the cheers and the applause, the emir sat among the pine needles for a moment, gasping.

Talon picked up her ax, then offered him a hand up.

The emir waved her away; he was still struggling for air. When he was able, he climbed to his feet and stood beside her, raising her hand in sign of victory. There was no anger in his heart, only well-earned respect.

"Aaath Ulber has trained his daughter well," the emir said, as the people cheered. "For my part, I believe that she has won the right to fight in Rugassa to free her foster brother, Fallion Orden. If anyone here would like to argue the point-well, then you try fighting her."

There was a good deal of clapping from the crowd. No one challenged her.

The emir added, "And if there are any who are willing to grant her their endowments before she goes into battle, I encourage you to do so."

The applause faded, and one woman shouted, "Speed, I can give her my speed." "Grace," a second woman said. And others called out their offers-all women, offering to gift their champion. A young man, a boy of perhaps seventeen, called out soberly, "She ll need a man s strength. I ll give mine."

Then the offers began in earnest.

The emir patted her shoulder, and headed back under the base of the tree. He felt like a failure, like a whipped dog slinking away from a fight. He d felt this way far too often before-but only after battling wyrmlings.

"Where are you going, Tuul Ra?" one old warlord called. It was grandfather Mallock, a scarred old graybeard who had survived many campaigns but was so crippled by arthritis that he had been forced into retirement.

The emir wasn t certain where he was going. "I want a drink, something strong, though I doubt that much can be found in camp."

Old warlord Mallock laughed and reached down under his breastplate and pulled out a glass flask with honey-colored liquid. "Will whiskey do?"

The emir took the proffered bottle, downed a swig.

He thought his old friend would offer condolences. Instead Mallock was studying the emir s face with reverence. "I saw Bannur Crell fight with a wyrmling s ax back in my youth. He was a legend in his own lifetime, but you could have bested him easily."

A couple of other graybeards stood at Mallock s back, and they grunted agreement.

"I haven t got much time left on this earth," Mallock said. "The wyrmlings took my home, my family, my country. But I ve got my wits still. Will you carry them into battle one last time for me? Perhaps they ll do you some good."

The Emir Tuul Ra merely stood for a moment, too surprised and too overcome with emotion to answer. "Wit!" Mallock shouted. "I offer my wit to the Emir Tuul Ra!"

"Brawn!" another graybeard called. "I m still as strong as any man in this camp. I offer my brawn."

The emir saw what they were doing. These were old men, venerable. They were showing him more support than he had dared dream.

A young woman called out, "Grace. I ll give you my grace. You both fought as if you had harvester spikes in your necks. I d like to see the wyrmlings try to stand against the pair of you."

So the folk stood out in the gloom for fifteen minutes, while night fell upon the meadows around them and a facilitator registered the offers of endowments.

When the offers were done, the emir had been promised nine to Talon s ninety. He would not be her equal in combat, far from it, but then, he told himself, I was a fool to think that I ever was her equal.

The crowd filed off, back down into the cavern beneath the pine. For some reason, the emir did not want to go back. The battle fury was still upon him, making his hands tremble. Apparently Talon felt the same. She too lingered outside and leaned with her back against the tree. Behind her was one of the huge carven faces of the Wode King. It was taller than she, so that her back arched against its chin.

Daylan Hammer hesitated before heading for cover, and warned, "Do not stay out long, and do not leave the shelter of the tree. Night is coming, and with it the Darkling Glories begin their hunt." He cast a glance out into the gloom, "Though I daresay with this rain, not many will be about." Daylan rushed down the hole, beneath the tree.

The emir smiled at Talon. "Congratulations," he said. "You won your endowments. And you gave me mine. Was that your plan? Are you really such a clever girl?"

The two of them still stood in the gloom while out beyond the shelter of the tree the rain sizzled amid the open fields, and overhead the great pines creaked and sighed softly in the wind.

She grinned. "I had hoped that they would give you more. Is it enough, do you think-nine endowments?"

"I ve fought the wyrmlings all of my life with only the strength of my own two arms. So I will go. I had hoped to lead this expedition, but now I ll be satisfied if I can only keep up with you."

He came and stood close to her, only an arm s breadth away, and smiled in satisfaction. He had never been in the presence of a woman as powerful as Talon, a woman that he respected so much. He found himself attracted to her.

A lovely girl, he thought. It is a shame that she is not older.

In his native Dalharristan, it was the custom of old lords to marry young women, in hopes of siring one last extraordinary child. But it was not a custom that he ever hoped to engage in. The very thought sickened him. For him, marriage was a lifelong commitment. He believed that men and women should be of equal age when they married, so that they might mature, grow old, and die together. In an ideal world, the two might stand together at the last, holding hands, and die in one another s arms.

But men who married young girls in the hope of siring children upon them were selfish. He could not imagine feeling any kind of peace as he died in old age, knowing that he had left his children only half-grown.

So he held back from Talon, as a gentleman should, determined to conceal his attraction.

But there is a closeness that two people share when they have faced death together-even when they have faced death at each other s hands.

The passion that the battle had aroused in Talon came swiftly.

She grasped him by the shoulder, then pulled him close. As if reading his mind, she said, "I m old enough to know what I want."

She kissed him then, and he was surprised at the ferocity of it-and at his own passion.

They stood for a long moment thus, holding one another, hearts beating as lips met. It felt good to be in her arms. It felt like coming home after a hard day s labor. He had never felt so… honored to have the love of a woman. He had known love before, but in his society, a wife was rarely considered a man s equal.

"What would your father say of this?" the emir asked softly.

"Which father? Aaath Ulber loves you like no other. He would leap for joy to have such a match. You ve saved his hide more than once.

"But Sir Borenson, I fear, would be incensed to find that I love the shadow of Raj Ahten. He killed you once. And if he knew that you kissed me, he d try to kill you again."

"Well then," the emir said, "let us break the news gently."

He held her, and suddenly became worried that in the coming battle he might lose her.

After long minutes, Tuul Ra pulled out of her embrace and prepared to go back down into the cavern.

"One question," he asked last of all. "On that shadow world, how was I, the mightiest of all flameweavers, killed?"

"Raj Ahten s limbs were lopped off with axes," Talon said. "Then he was wrapped in chains and thrown in a lake to drown. My father had as much to do with it as anyone."

"So I was killed by good men?"

"Yes."

The emir absorbed the news. "It was an act worthy of a hero. I must thank him, when next we meet."

It was with a heavy heart that the emir ducked beneath the hanging roots of the great pine, shoved the door securely closed behind him, then descended the stone stairs with Talon at his side.

At the foot of the stairs the great room opened up; once again the emir was struck by the magical atmosphere of the place.

Crowds of folk were settling in for the night against the walls, having laid their bedrolls upon rafts of dry moss. No cooking fires burned. Crickets chirped merrily, while out among the crowd a trio of musicians played softly on woodwinds. The air was thick with the scent of water and clean soil. Stars seemed to hang in the air above them, and it seemed lighter now than before. But that had to be an illusion, he decided. When first he had entered the shelter, he d come in from the harsh light of day, and all had seemed dim. Now he had come in from the gloom of dusk and storm, and the same room seemed bright.

In a far chamber, the emir could hear the facilitator Thull-turock chanting. He was already preparing to start the endowment ceremony.

"How soon shall we leave?" Talon asked the emir.

"A couple of hours at most," he said.

"That is not much time to say good-bye." Talon had probably been thinking of her own mother, Gatunyea, but the emir drew a sharp breath of pain. His daughter, Siyaddah, had offered her own endowment to him, and once the endowment was transferred, he would never be able to speak with her again. It was a terrible sacrifice, and the emir spotted Siyaddah down in the crowd, waiting near the foot of the stairs for him.

Alun stood at her side, and as the emir approached his daughter, Talon withdrew a few paces to offer some privacy. Siyaddah strode forward, her eyes glistening from tears in the light of the false stars.

"Father" was all that she managed to say.

He stood before her, admiring her, but could not speak.

"Tell her not to do it," Alun suggested. "I will give you one of my dogs. You won t need her."

"And if I back out," Siyaddah said, "won t the others who have offered their endowments feel deceived? They made their gestures in part because of my sacrifice."

The emir did not answer. She was right. He just held her eyes, admiring her.

Such strength, such goodness, he thought.

He admired her more than words could tell. But he spoke as well as he could: "Why are there not more men with such great hearts as yours?"

"You can have all of my dogs," Alun offered. "I don t care about them."

But no one was listening. To steal endowments from a dog would be a churlish thing, the emir decided. To take advantage of a dumb animal because of its faithfulness-it was beyond his power. He did not have that kind of cruelty in him.

"Take my endowment!" Alun offered.

The emir smiled at the young man. Alun was a mongrel, an ill-bred man, but it was obvious that he loved Siyaddah. It was just as obvious that her affection for him was as a friend, not a lover.

My daughter seems intent to break many hearts today, he thought.

"I thank you for the offer, Alun," the emir said. "But I fear that I would be taking it under false pretenses, and that would be dishonorable."

"I love your daughter," Alun said. "There is nothing false in that. And because I love her, because I wish to honor her desires, I offer my endowment. She made her offer because she believes in you, believes that you are the best hope for this rescue. I think she is right."

The emir needed endowments, that much was true. Another one, offered honorably, would be greatly valued. But he did not want to give Alun false hopes that he might win his daughter s hand. Nor did he wish to take an endowment from someone whose motives were not entirely pure.

Alun was hoping to buy Siyaddah s love, and the emir knew that it could not be purchased.

Had Alun begged to give his endowment in order to free his king, or to save his people, the emir would have taken it gladly.

But the Emir Tuul Ra had recently been in a council meeting attended by Glories, and he wanted to be like them. Something inside him whispered that taking Alun s endowment would be wrong.

It is not a gift that he offers freely, he realized. It is a bribe, one that carries an onus.

"I thank you for your offer," the emir said, "but I must decline. You hope to win my daughter s heart, and it may be that you shall. But you will have to find another way."