Writers of the Future 32 Science Fiction & Fantasy Anthology

  He raised his swords, and the crowd hushed. “People of the steppes! People of the storm!” Yvina translated as he spoke. “Some of you know me. Some of you know this man. But what we do here will echo through the ages, and so I will tell you what is happening today.” He paused and waited for her to catch up. “Remember this, so that you can tell your grandchildren. We will decide the fate of two peoples today.” The Aradori murmured as she relayed Mahkah’s words, fingering their weapons and eyeing the Methlan.

  ELDAR ZAKIROV

  Mahkah continued. “My father was khan-of-khans.”

  Yvina’s head snapped around, but his back was to her. Her bear said, I knew there was more to him than met the eye.

  “My father led us to drive back the farmers who invaded our western grazing lands,” Mahkah said. Yvina stumbled, but translated. “He ended two tribal feuds and led us well. When he died, the women wept. I was but a boy. I knew I could not be khan-of-khans, but I thought perhaps I would lead my own clan. I met three challenges and fled from the fourth.”

  “Because you are a coward!” a man wearing golden rings on every finger and a dozen more in his ears shouted, pushing other men aside to reach the front of the crowd. She knew that face; Khan Sihkun, who had captured her and her brother. The men around him held him back, muttering.

  “I fled rather than fight the man my sister wanted for her husband,” Mahkah said. “I was wrong. I should have beaten his face in and told my sister to find a new man.” The crowd laughed, Aradori and Methlan both, and Yvina grinned. Their peoples had so much in common, if they could only see it. “No matter; I wandered, alone, for years. A cloud hung over my head, the knowledge that I should have done more.”

  The Methlan leaned in as Mahkah dropped his voice. It was almost a whisper now, yet it traveled. “So I went to the holiest place. I climbed the mountain whose peak is white all year round. I found the sacred place of our fathers and spoke with the spirit of the wind.”

  The Methlan gasped as Mahkah continued. “The spirit of the wind spoke to me. She told me about the storm coming. Not a storm of air and rain, but of people. Men who were storm made flesh. She told me my destiny was to find a way for our people to weather the storm. We might be blown away, or worn down. Or we could join with the storm and ride on the winds to greatness.

  “Some of you know the name my mother gave me. I was Kharil, heart of the people. The wind-spirit renamed me. She named me Mahkah, heart of the storm. She told me to seek my fate.”

  Yvina translated, her heart in her mouth. Why hadn’t Mahkah told her the truth last night? You already knew, her bear whispered. You knew from the moment he told you he’d come seeking you. Who else would have even known your name?

  Mahkah spoke on. “And so I wandered once more, until I came to a river. On the banks of that river I found my fate. I found a woman of the Aradori standing over a pile of her fallen foes. She looked at me, and I knew that with this woman at my side I could face down any storm. And so I came to the wise women of our people with one request. I must match steel with her brother—with this man!” Mahkah jabbed his longer sword toward Aradon, who grinned like a fool.

  A few of the Aradori shouted approval, jostling each other. Mahkah said, and Yvina wished she could see his face, “Stand witness, people of the steppes! We will see what the Aradori are made of. Are they to be our brothers? Or shall we go to war, as Khan Sihkun has said? Let our steel give you the answer. Let us decide the future of two peoples here and now, with the sun and sky for witness. What say you?”

  The Methlan gave a huge cheer, and to Yvina’s delight, so did the Aradori.

  “Stop this nonsense,” Khan Sihkun shouted. “This is my prisoner, not his!” But nobody paid him any mind.

  “Where’s my sword?” Aradon demanded. “Someone give me a sword. Yvina, what’s all that nonsense you said about this man taking you as his wife? Do I need to kill him?”

  Yvina glared at him. “If I decide he’s the man I want, that’s my choice,” she said. “If you disagree, feel free to try and win.” Even though Mahkah had sworn he wouldn’t kill Aradon, this was serious combat. One of them could be maimed in a careless instant. She wanted to tell Aradon not to hurt Mahkah, but Mahkah waited only a few yards away, watching. She would not show him that disrespect.

  “Fine,” Aradon said. “Get me a sword, someone!”

  Someone cut Aradon’s bonds and gave him a sword. The crowd closed around him and Mahkah. Yvina joined the Aradori.

  Mahkah had a sword in each hand. He and Aradon circled each other. Yvina felt the surge of power in him as Aradon’s bear woke. Mahkah held himself easily. Skin-wards covered most of his chest. Can he match Aradon’s bear? Yvina asked her own companion.

  He beat us, her bear replied. It wasn’t much of an answer.

  The generals clustered around Yvina as Mahkah crouched. Aradon stood tall, grinning wildly. He raised his sword and charged. Yvina’s heart pounded.

  Mahkah rose to greet him, catching Aradon’s sword with his longer blade and coming in under his guard with the short sword. Aradon slammed his left fist down and knocked Mahkah’s blade aside. He shoved Mahkah back, pulled his sword free, and smashed down at Mahkah.

  Mahkah caught Aradon’s sword with both blades this time. They struggled with each other, then Mahkah sprang back.

  “The Methlan fellow’s quick, but Aradon’s got four inches and thirty pounds of muscle on him,” General Byorn said. “And a bear, of course.”

  “What happens when Aradon guts him?” another of the Aradori asked.

  “My men are ready to attack,” General Jorum said. “We’re just waiting for the right moment. Probably right after Aradon puts his sword through the other fellow.”

  “Just shut up,” Yvina said through gritted teeth, “and watch the fight.” She clenched her fists together until the nails bit into her palms. Mahkah would win, he had to win. He matched for Aradon in every way. But it would only take a single mistake to see him in the dirt with his life bleeding out.

  Mahkah attacked this time, coming in like a lightning bolt. His longer blade caught Aradon’s shirt and ripped through, but missed Aradon’s body. Aradon still grinned. “You’re not bad,” he said in badly accented Methlan. Her bear brought every word to Yvina’s ears. She hadn’t realized his speech was that good. Maybe he’d listened to her after all. “If you hadn’t insulted my sister, I might let you live.”

  Mahkah laughed. “What insult, oh Stormborn? I have made my offer, and she may decide as she likes.”

  “Even if you are a prince, I can’t have my sister marrying just anyone,” Aradon said. He shut up as Mahkah’s flashing blades forced him back. Yvina felt torn between annoyance and pleasure.

  Again and again they clashed and fell apart. The sun slid down toward the horizon. Most of the assembled crowd sat down on the grass. Yvina accepted some trail rations from one of the generals. “How long can this go on?” General Jorum asked. “Aradon should have had him an hour ago.”

  “Shut up,” General Byorn said. “This is the best fight I’ve seen in years, and you want it to be over?”

  The two combatants were her whole world. Mahkah fought beautifully. Every move was graceful and fluid, like a dance. Aradon’s responses spoke of power and endurance. Two very different styles. Both masters of their bodies and swords.

  This is the alliance we need, she told her bear. Our raw strength, with their quickness. Methlan cavalry force an opening with a lightning charge while our army stands ready to smash through that opening. We’d be unstoppable together. We must have this alliance.

  Her bear felt amused. He’s won you, at least, it said. No matter the result?

  I don’t need this swordfight to show me Mahkah’s heart, she said.

  So tell him that, when he’s done, the bear said. If Aradon doesn’t kill him.

  He won’t, Yvina
said, clasping her fingers together. He won’t.

  The sun slipped low on the horizon, sliding behind the bluffs. The shadows dimmed everything. On the other side, an ancient Methlan woman stood up. She raised her arms and called something. Yvina couldn’t catch the words but Mahkah did. He fell back and opened his arms wide. “A pause,” he said.

  Aradon stepped back. He came over to the Aradori lines as the Methlan brought out torches, lit them, and placed them around the field. Aradon wiped sweat from his face and accepted water. “What a fight,” he said. “And what an audience. This will be one for a song!”

  “Our songs and theirs both,” Yvina agreed.

  Aradon turned to the generals. “Good work following so fast. This fight is impressing the Methlan. After I finish this fellow, I’m going to call out Sihkun and kill him. Once he’s dead, they’ll listen to reason. I think you were right, sister. We can use these people.”

  Yvina clenched her fists. “You don’t understand them at all,” she said. “You never have. They won’t follow you, Aradon. But they might follow him.” She gazed across the field to where Mahkah stood. A trio of beautiful Methlan girls had brought him water. They giggled and smiled up into his face. “Excuse me,” Yvina said, and ignoring her brother’s calls, she marched across the field to Mahkah.

  The girls fell away as she approached. She glared at them until they hurried back to the Methlan crowd.

  Mahkah smiled at her. Her anger loosened a bit. Who was she angry with, anyway? Aradon for being stupid, or Mahkah for lying? “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  His smile vanished. “You sent an offer to Kharil, sight unseen. You are a woman of your word and would have honored that offer,” he said. “I wanted to be sure that you were willing to come with me. That you understood what that meant. Besides, I told you. I am not Kharil anymore. That boy was foolish and put his own happiness ahead of his people’s.”

  “And now?”

  “Now,” he said, “I think I can have both.”

  “You’re not just fighting him for me,” she said. “Or to stop a battle, or even to make Sihkun look stupid.”

  He bowed. “When I am done, they will follow me to the ends of the earth. Yvina, I am not asking you to be wife of a wanderer. I am asking you to stand beside the khan-of-khans of the Methlan and help me shape our future. The world is changing. Your people bring the storm. My people must change, or fall before it. You can help me. You know the Aradori. I know the Methlan. The sons we share will have the best of both peoples.”

  “The third reason,” she whispered. “The third reason you asked me to fight you at the riverbank.”

  “Just as I am showing my soul to our peoples tonight, I wanted to see your soul and to show you mine,” Mahkah said. “I did not have time for a long courtship. Not with my people’s future at stake. They say we see truth in swords.” And then he smiled and raised one eyebrow and all Yvina’s tension dissolved like snow in spring. “Besides, a khan-of-khans has enemies and I wanted to be sure I could count on my wife’s sword in a pinch.”

  She laughed. “I think they’re ready for you to finish this,” she said. The last of the torches had been placed and the crowd seemed impatient.

  “I’m ready,” Mahkah said. “And you?”

  Yvina set one hand on Mahkah’s arm. She reached up with her other hand and pulled Mahkah to her. Their lips met. She kissed him with all the passion that had been building in her like a summer storm. Mahkah’s lips were warm against hers. His hand slipped around her waist and he pulled her tight.

  Now that is going to make an impression on the crowd, her bear whispered, but she ignored it.

  After a moment she pulled away. “Oh, no, did I smudge your skin-wards?” She looked down. One or two of the lines seemed mussed.

  Mahkah laughed. “I know how to fix them,” he said. “Now go watch. This will be over soon.”

  She marched back to the Aradori side, head high. Aradon stared at her. “What the hells are you doing?” he asked.

  Yvina smiled. “Forging alliances,” she said. “Go seal the bargain for me, brother.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked, looking puzzled.

  “Just finish the fight,” Yvina said, rejoining the generals. Aradon shook his head, then ran out to join Mahkah.

  “Kingsdaughter?” General Byorn said. “Does this mean . . . I don’t know what it means.”

  “You will soon,” Yvina said.

  Aradon and Mahkah raised their swords, just as one last ray of sunlight broke past the bluffs. It lit their blades, bright white in the gloom. Yvina raised a hand to her lips. “Oh,” she said, the words of her mother’s prophecy coming to her again. “Swords like lightning. Hooves like thunder.” Then it had been a promise for her, too.

  Mahkah darted forward, quicker than thought. Aradon barely got his sword up. Mahkah danced around him, Aradon turning to face him. Their swords clashed over and over. Yvina’s bones shivered along with their steel. This was the turning point, when the future of two peoples would be resolved.

  If Aradon won, Mahkah would be disgraced. Aradon would get his treaty with the Methlan, but they’d be uneasy, lesser partners. The alliance would last only until the first test, and then dissolve. But if Mahkah won, would the Aradori talk or attack?

  “Something’s changed,” General Byorn said. “Look how they’re moving. That Methlan fellow is desperate.”

  “His name is Mahkah,” Yvina said. “He’s not desperate; he’s determined. This ends soon.”

  Aradon’s smile disappeared. He beat back Mahkah’s attacks through sheer willpower. She could feel his bear from here, keeping his arms and legs moving with the speed to match Mahkah. Mahkah’s magic felt different. She wanted to know more about the skin-wards. Would learn more, if Mahkah won. They weren’t alive the way the bear was, clearly, but they gave him what he needed. Twice Aradon’s sword had grazed Mahkah’s arm without drawing blood.

  The fighters crashed together, and a sword flew glinting past the torches and into the Methlan crowd. Yvina held her breath. Whose sword?

  Aradon stepped back, hands empty, face still determined.

  Mahkah buried his sword-points in the grass and sprang at Aradon.

  Aradon’s face twisted in surprise for an instant before he went down under Mahkah’s onslaught.

  Yvina’s heart was in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. The two grappled, rolling over. Now Aradon knelt over Mahkah. He punched down hard, and the sound of fists on flesh made Yvina wince.

  Mahkah wriggled out and suddenly he was on top, wrestling with Aradon. Aradon tried to throw Mahkah, but this time Mahkah kept his place. He got his arm around Aradon’s neck and locked it in behind his other elbow, putting Aradon in a chokehold. Aradon flailed. Then his hands dropped to the ground. His fingers twitched.

  Mahkah rose. His chest heaved. Yvina wanted to run to him, but Aradon lay on the ground nearby. Was he dead, despite Mahkah’s promises?

  Then Aradon groaned and sat up. His nose and chin ran red with blood. His eye was already swelling shut. But he grinned. Mahkah stooped and offered a hand.

  Aradon stared at it, then took it and stood.

  The roar that went up from both armies echoed to the skies.

  Yvina found herself halfway across the field before she realized she’d moved. Her bear leaped inside her. She caught herself just before she reached the two men, and stared from one to the other. Mahkah wore a bruise on his face and a split lip, but looked considerably better than Aradon.

  The crowd swelled up around them, Aradori and Methlan mixing together and shouting. The generals stood close by, as did Khan Sihkun and the very old woman Yvina had seen before. Mahkah held up his hands and called for silence. The noise died slowly. He looked at Yvina. “Be my voice to your people?”

  “Always,” she promised, and he smiled.

 
“Tell us what just happened,” General Jorum demanded.

  “I got thrashed,” Aradon said. A grin split his face from side to side. “And I think I found us some new allies.”

  “Mahkah wants to speak,” Yvina said.

  “My people,” Mahkah said, “you have seen a fight tonight. Was it to your liking?” The crowd’s roar was answer enough. “It was to mine,” he shouted. “Today I have won a wife, I have found a brother, and I have come home!”

  Aradon told Yvina, “You speak their language better than I do. Tell them that my word is binding. The Aradori and the Methlan will be brothers. Khan-of-Khans Mahkah is my brother now.” He grinned. “That bit’s right, isn’t it, Yvina?”

  “Fortunately for you,” Yvina said.

  The Methlan crowd cheered again. “Absolutely not!” Khan Sihkun shouted. “The Methlan will never follow a herdless wanderer, a coward who ran when offered a proper—”

  Aradon strode over to Sihkun. His fist moved faster than Yvina could follow, and Sihkun lay motionless on the grass. “No one speaks to my brother that way,” he said in badly-accented Methlan. The crowd cheered, Methlan and Aradori both. Apparently some things didn’t need translation.

  Yvina went to Mahkah, who was still surrounded by well-wishers. They melted away, leaving Mahkah and Yvina with a little space.

  Mahkah took her hands. “Are you pleased?” he asked.

  She smiled up at him. “When can we be married? Tonight? Tomorrow?”

  He frowned. “I fought your brother in front of both our peoples,” he said. “What more does it take?”

  “Then we’re . . .” The shock hit Yvina. “I suppose,” she said, searching for the right words.

  You should shut up, her bear said as Mahkah bent and kissed her. She responded eagerly. That was a better answer, anyway.

  Where Steampunk Started

  by Tim Powers

  * * *

  Tim Powers is the author of fourteen novels, including The Anubis Gates, Declare, Hide Me Among the Graves, and On Stranger Tides, which was adapted for the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean movie of the same title. His books have twice won the Philip K. Dick Memorial Award, three times won the World Fantasy Award, and three times won the Locus Poll Award.