Talion Revenant

  I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but I understood there were wars between tribes. That sounds like it would do away with war."

  Marana shook her head. "There are wars, but before another tribe can take over a new territory, the representatives meet in Betil and award the new territory to the conqueror. It prevents the wars from getting truly too savage." She raised a hand to silence my coming protest. "Sure, warriors run out and get killed, but the wars don't carry the destruction to the civilian population. The Tribal Council awards the contested province to the winner and the tribes exchange lands. Those who don't want to move can stay and join the new tribe provided they are allowed to do so by the Tribal Council."

  "What happens if they are not given permission?"

  "The Tribal Council declares them dead and no one is permitted to trade with them until they bow to the Council's will. All in all the practice really prevents any cities aside from Betil springing up. The lords of Betil like this because it makes their city the commercial hub of the country."

  I smiled and looked up at the ceiling as I absorbed the information. The paint was cracked. "That's complicated. Temuri history must be a mess."

  Marana smiled somewhat proudly. "Aside from Betil's conquest of the nation a hundred years before the Empire collapsed, Temuri history has been a case of each tribe getting used and discarded by outsiders. The Temuri are excellent horse archers, which makes them a nasty light cavalry. Outsiders have promised them great riches if they will come out and fight in support of their 'ally.' Each tribe that has done so has been betrayed. The oldest saying in Temur is 'Trust a man only as far as your bow can shoot.' "

  I laughed and squeezed Marana's right hand with my left. "You Temuri are generous. In Sinjaria the saying went, 'Trust a man to the length of your sword.' "

  "The Fealareen trust men only when we have their hearts in our hands." The friendly smile on Jevin's face betrayed his deep and menacing voice. I started and pulled my hand from Marana's. "Come on you two, we have fighting practice in five minutes. You'll be late."

  Jevin, already in his practice leathers, walked quietly and calmly from the library. I don't think he noticed the redness on my face, but I caught Marana's grin out of the corner of my eye.

  Even though we sprinted to our rooms and changed quickly, Marana and I were late, so we were formed into a fighting team. Jevin and Lothar were another team. Lothar had waited for Marana and expected Jevin to choose me as his partner. In the normal course of events we often paired that way, and our two teams usually ended up fighting each other as the "best of the best" when we fought in two different exercise groups. This time the instructor, a Sixteen, took great pleasure in splitting our usual teams.

  We used padded leather for armor and blunted weapons in fighting practice. The instructors and judges decided the lethality of each blow landed and applied the results to the fight. While Justices would seldom work in teams, the instruction gave us insight into how teams might work together to oppose us. Most important, to me, it showed where a fighter might let his guard down if he fought with an ally at his side.

  I'd not fought with Marana as my partner before. She was about half a foot smaller than my six feet, but was very quick. I knew from opposing her that she might be out of range in one second and then in, attacking, and back out in the next. She relied on finesse: she knew all the points on a body where the arteries passed close to the surface, and she practiced hitting the blood vessels with quick slashing attacks. Suffering within limitations placed on them by the judges, many of her foes simply bled to death before they could even hit her.

  I was not surprised when Marana and I were placed in a preliminary circle of fights that did not include Jevin and Lothar. The instructor clearly believed we'd be the best in our circle, and that Jevin and Lothar would defeat everyone in their group. The other teams knew that and did their best to knock us out of the running fast.

  The first two teams, knowing I relied on power more than speed, attacked Marana first. I took a lesson from her, moved quickly, and adapted my style to defeat enemies who expected me to stand and exchange sword cuts. My first victim went down quickly when, after one passing slash, the judges ruled I'd broken his spine.

  Marana finished his partner by using my normal fighting style to oppose him. She exchanged sword cuts with him; then she slipped her blade between his legs and, as the judges ruled, sliced the artery in his left thigh apart. He hopped around on one leg for a half minute while Marana avoided him, and a judge finally ruled him unconscious from loss of blood. When he fell Marana dispatched him with an elaborate thrust to the chest that had all the observers, and the victim, laughing for a minute or two. "Had I known I'd die so picturesquely," the dead man quipped, "I'd have given up immediately!"

  As others in our circle fought, we watched Jevin and Lothar destroy their first opponents. Both of them closed on their foes like thieves descending upon a caravan. Fierce and powerful, they forced their opponents back with feints and bluffs before any blows actually landed. Lothar, with a series of feints and cuts, "broke" the sword arm of his foe, then "crushed" his skull. Jevin brutally parried a blow, knocked his opponent's blade flying, then pushed the startled boy down on his back and placed his blade at the youth's throat.

  The judge declared his victim dead and Jevin looked over at me. "That'll be you, Nolan, just remember."

  I looked over at Marana, rolled my eyes skyward, and we both started to laugh. "We'll see, mountain demon, we'll see."

  Our other fights went as easily as the first. Without consulting each other we switched styles back and forth and constantly threw our foes off balance. We adapted ourselves to their styles. If they sunk back into a defensive posture we attacked quickly and without pause. If they swept forward we defended until their flurry of blows spent itself; then we aggressively counterattacked and vanquished them.

  If I was in trouble Marana appeared, and vice versa. We matched each tactic the enemy employed with one of equal or greater strength. I could leave Marana to parry the blows of both foes while I circled wide and attacked from the flank or rear. Without a word spoken between us we would switch opponents, surprise and kill them. We made a very effective team.

  Jevin and Lothar were equally efficient. They powered through their foes easily, though each of them got killed at least once. The worst wound we sustained came when I lost my left arm from the elbow down. My foe had not expected me to parry with a bare arm, and my riposte took him through the chest so I thought the exchange worth it. Still our lack of deaths made Marana and me the favorite to win the day.

  Both teams had a chance to rest while others fought. I dipped water from a bucket in the Citadel wall's shadow and drank deeply. Jevin walked up behind me and rested a heavy hand on my left shoulder. "Don't drink so much, Nolan, it will only slow you down." He smiled and took a dipper of water himself. "You don't want a belly full of water, or anything else, distracting you during the fight."

  A rivulet of sweat ran a cold course down my spine. "Jevin, Marana and I were just talking. She's Lothar's lover, and he's my friend. You know me, Jevin, I'd do nothing to hurt either one of them."

  The Fealareen drank and nodded. He wiped water from his chin with the back of his left hand. "I know you, Nolan, and what you say is true. I merely suggest you remember those words and don't let anything distract you. As good a friend as Lothar is now, he'd make a worse enemy."

  I smiled and gently punched Jevin in the shoulder. "I understand. Thank you, Jevin."

  He grinned enough to let his canines show white against the green-gray of his lips. "I just want to make sure you are back as my partner next time."

  I laughed and danced out of striking distance. "Just so I won't kill you all the time, right?"

  The four of us entered the fighting circle and bowed to the judges and then each other. We were all somewhat giddy, because Lord Hansur came out to watch the final fight and a few Justices—full Justices back in Talianna from assignments out in the real wor
ld—offered each other wagers on our chances of success. In their estimation Jevin and Lothar were a two-to-one favorite.

  Jevin and Lothar lined up so Marana would go against the Fealareen and Lothar would fight me. Though better than me at swordfighting, Lothar's hideous overconfidence made him vulnerable. "Marana," he said, "Jevin will keep you occupied until I can dispatch the farmer and go after you. To the victor go the spoils...."

  She shot him a withering glance, but backed it with a smile so he laughed it off. If she'd looked that way at me—without the smile—I would have run, further and faster than I did with Jevin on my heels.

  Lord Hansur gave the signal and we closed. Lothar came at me, decided to attack with power, and clearly expected to crash through my guard. I cut to my right, evaded his blow, but did not counterattack. I let myself move just a bit slower than I had in the earlier fights. I let my left arm hang wearily and acted as if the earlier fights had exhausted me.

  Lothar smiled wide to give me as close to a predatory smile as he could muster. "You're mine, Nolan. Thou art dead."

  He came again and I dodged at the last second. I slashed back at him, caught his left shoulder, and the judges ruled his left arm impaired. His smile died and he gnawed his lower lip. After a swift flurry of blows that came far faster than I could parry, he hit me on the left shoulder. We were even.

  "Come, Nolan, let us fyghte without guile." His voice was low and cold. I'd heard that tone before: when we spoke harshly to the Services clerk on my first day. He used that tone to command inferiors, and with it commanded me to lie down and die.

  I frowned and concentrated, because I knew if I did not think my way through the fight I would lose to his superior skill. But before he could read the concern on my face, I forced myself to grin at him. "Defeat me, if thou art able."

  Despite the armor and the bluntness of the blades, two fighters can hurt each other. The blows can leave nasty bruises. Lothar and I struck hard. We made each cut count and hurt to prove who was best.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Marana. She held her own against Jevin, but his superior reach kept her at bay. The agile Fealareen easily danced away from her attacks. She parried his cuts or faded away from them, but she just could not dart in quickly enough to actually hit Jevin. A blind man could have read the frustration on her face.

  The fight was a stalemate.

  The second I realized we were too evenly matched for one side to win decisively, I decided to do something about it. I moved so Lothar and Jevin fought virtually back to back. Lothar smiled, glad to have his ally behind him and confident that Marana could not get at him through Jevin. "Now, Nolan, thou art dead."

  I smiled. "As are thee."

  Lothar launched a sweeping cut at me and I rushed forward into it. He caught me on the left side and the blow crushed my left arm against my rib cage. Even so, my momentum carried me forward into his body and knocked him backward and down into Jevin's legs. Surprised and unbalanced, Jevin fell back and ended up on top of Lothar.

  Marana leaped in and quickly dispatched both of them.

  Lord Hansur laid his hand on the judge's shoulder and usurped the right to pronounce the verdict. "Nolan, you are dead. The blow would have carried through your arm to your vital organs."

  Lothar, regaining his feet, beamed. "I got you, Nolan. You walked right into the blow. Even you should have seen it coming."

  "And, Lothar, he got you," snapped Lord Hansur. "Both you and Jevin are dead by Marana's hand." Lord Hansur waved us back and, when we seated ourselves on the circle's edge, addressed the assembled novices. "You just witnessed a good victory. The object of the contest was for the team to win. Nolan realized there was a stalemate and acted to break that stalemate. Lothar's victory was short-lived."

  Lothar grumbled. "But he died from my attack. That was stupid. He just helped Marana win as if he was just her second sword."

  I frowned. "A tool is just a tool, unless it does the job by itself."

  Lord Hansur raised a hand to silence both of us. "Your points are well taken. Remember this fight. Self-sacrifice is impractical, but Nolan took an action that resulted in victory for his team. Remember that a stalemate is a stalemate as long as no one acts. A man who you fear will kill you is often afraid of the same treatment at your hands. There are times when two men in such a position both defend to prevent injury and deny victory to themselves. The person to act in that situation, if he has the required skills, will break the stalemate and be the victor."

  Lord Hansur turned and walked away. The Justices followed him. They shook their heads but smiled at all of us. From comments made by other Fifteens about what they had overheard the two of them say, our martial abilities had impressed them.

  Jevin slapped my back with his right hand. "An interesting tactic, Nolan, and quite effective. I'll be glad to have you back on my side."

  Marana walked up and kissed me full on the lips. My face burned crimson and the thrill the kiss sent through my body was greater than the one I felt in tricking Lothar during the fight. "Thank you, partner, for the sacrifice," she murmured.

  My words tangled in my throat so I said nothing.

  Marana walked to Lothar's side and took his hand in hers. The fury on his face died, and he blushed because his jealous anger shamed him. He smiled. "Don't get used to that, Nolan, or we'll be bound for the Cirhon to settle this."

  I held my hands up and surrendered. "I don't want that, Lothar." Jevin's comment about Lothar as an enemy ripped through my mind. "After today the only outcome of such a fight would be both of us lying dead!"

  Marana slipped her arm around Lothar's waist and hugged him. We all started to laugh and the four of us led the other Fifteens back to our rooms.

  Chapter Nine

  Talion: Nekkeht

  I dropped through the hole, hit the Dark-maze floor, and rolled forward to the right. I stood quickly, pressed my back against a rough stone wall, and unconsciously called my tsincaat to hand. My heart pounded loudly in my ears and drowned out any sounds my quarry might have made. I closed my eyes and concentrated. My heart rate slowed.

  I breathed in slowly and silently. I kept my eyes closed. I'd long ago learned that if I left my eyes open I would concentrate too much on seeing in a place where nothing could be seen. With my eyes closed I focused more attention on hearing, touch, and smell.

  If you can, kill whatever you find down there. The Master's words whispered through my mind with each heartbeat. This was no idle exercise. The Master could order me to kill anyone or anything up above if he just wanted to see something die. His instructions had purpose and with his words came the possibility that, in the Master's judgment, I might not be able to kill whatever I found hiding in the darkness. This did not set me at ease.

  Because it had helped in past exercises in the depths, I relied on my sense of smell. The Darkmaze had the same warm, musty odor it always did. The scent of leather armor and my nervous sweat hung in the air, but I recognized them as normal, and dismissed them. I searched for another smell, something unusual, something I could not identify.

  There was nothing. Nothing to smell, to hear, or to feel. I was utterly alone.

  Without warning a paw raked my left shoulder, twisted my body, and smashed my shoulder back into the wall. The blow numbed my arm and knocked me aside—had I been shorter it would have snapped my neck.

  I rebounded off the wall, planted my right foot, and slashed my tsincaat through the darkness in front of me. I kept the blade level and aimed the cut at waist height, but met nothing before the blade rang loudly and sparked when it struck the wall. Instantly I slid back toward my left, spun, and cut through where I had just stood. The sword connected.

  My foe made no sound. It withdrew quickly, as if it evaporated, and I realized something was dreadfully wrong. I could smell nothing. No matter where I hit it I would have drawn blood. I'd felt the blade cut through something, dammit!

  I touched the cold steel tip of the tsincaat. It was dry. br />
  A shiver ran down my spine. That was impossible. After enough fights the sensation of hitting flesh becomes all too familiar. I knew I'd cut it, and while I was sure the wound was relatively deep, I was willing to accept that it might have been a flesh wound. Still there should have been blood.

  What kind of creature does not bleed?

  It came for me again and caught me with a shoulder in the stomach. Its arms locked around my waist in a fierce hug that jolted even more pain than Rolf's had through me. The tackle carried me back ten feet and blasted me into another maze wall. My head smacked into the stone and stars exploded before my eyes.

  It kept me pinned against the wall and tried to bite through my armor on the left side of my chest. With each driving step it wrung more pain out of my back, and my ribs protested in earnest. I brought a knee up into its chest but the weak blow had no effect on the creature at all.

  Its tackle had not trapped my arms. Though in too close for me to stab it with my tsincaat—my body pinned my ryqril against the wall—I attacked. I raised both hands, wrapped them firmly around the hilt of my tsincaat, and crashed the hilt down on the back of its neck. I heard a distinct crack, and it released me, but did not drop unconscious. It melted away again.

  It seemed human, or human-shaped, but my blow would have killed most men easily. Someone like Jevin might have survived the broken neck, but he wouldn't have been moving at all, and besides, whatever had tackled me was not big enough to be a Fealareen. The Master's orders echoed again through my mind, and dread sucked my stomach in on itself.

  First, I knew, I had to stop acting like a target. So far it had hit me twice before I knew it was coming. I had to assume that it could see in the darkness, and that meant it had magic of some sort. Ferocious, it attacked without thought to its own safety, so I had to assume it was unintelligent or insane.

  The more I thought about it, the more doomed I felt.