The Foundlings (The Swords of Xigara)

by J. Mark Miller

  “How did you sleep, child?” Karah asked.

  “Not well, my lady.”

  “You tossed all night, as if you wrestled with nightmares.”

  “Oh,” Tenna blushed, “I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

  “Not to worry,” Karah smiled and petted Mas until he purred. “I spent time in kathedo where nothing could disturb me.”

  “I wish I could perform the trance,” Tenna said. “It sounds refreshing.”

  Karah turned a critical eye on Tenna, making the girl think she’d given offense of some sort. Was kathedo sacred to elves? Was it impolite for a human to yearn for it?

  “We could teach you the techniques,” Karah said finally, “but only an elf can enter a true trance. Perhaps it would help you find tranquility.”

  “Yes,” Quist said, “and there are other disciplines you should be performing as well.” The elf smiled and drew his sword. “Have you rested enough for some swordplay?”

  Tenna groaned. “Against you? You’re too fast.”

  “Quist is too fast for everyone, I think,” Y’neth said as she sauntered down from the quarterdeck. “But he’s right, it’s a good idea to practice, and it will help pass the time while we wait.”

  “I thought you said last night you’d be going for a swim this morning,” Tenna said.

  “I’ve been out of bed for hours, but I didn’t go in any case.” Her face turned sour. “My captain reminded me of my promise to the wizard to stay aboard. My swim can wait.”

  “How long can you stay out of water?”

  “Several days, as long as there’s water to drink,” Y’neth said. “There’s no cause for concern. Come, let’s practice.”

  Tenna rolled her eyes and threw her apple core overboard. She followed Y’neth over to the barrel holding practice weapons of various sizes, drawing out the long sword that had become her weapon of choice. Since that first day of practice, the day of the dragon attack, there had been a practice session at least once daily. She’d progressed quickly under the company’s swordsmen, and what she lacked in skill she more than made up for in agility. She was fast, too. Fast enough to get a touch on Katalas, someone her father said was one of the finest swordsmen he’d ever seen.

  They checked to make sure the balls welded to their sword’s tips were secure, then moved to the middle of the deck. Tenna shadowed Y’neth through the warm-up routine, a routine similar in many ways to the dancing footwork she’d learned during her years of posing as a debutante. A melody began to echo through her head as she moved through the forms, an internal cadence that helped her smooth her motions.

  As they reached the end of the routine, Y’neth whipped around and faced Tenna in a ready stance and offered a nod to indicate her readiness. The woman never said where she’d learned her skills as a duelist, and as yet only Quist had been able to best her. Even Katalas had only managed a draw.

  Every time she sparred with Tenna, the girl somehow ended up on her rear with a sword tip pointed at her heart.

  Y’neth made the first move, feinting low then drawing back, setting them into motion across the deck. Several of the crewmen stopped to watch the pair, only to draw scowls from their captain. One loud clearing of his throat was enough to send them back to their assigned tasks.

  Tenna thought she could shorten the session by taking an aggressive approach. She came in swinging from right to left, but Y’neth swatted the attack aside with ease. The older woman fell back into an easy stance, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet. A thin smile crossed her face, telling Tenna she knew what the girl was up to.

  Tenna tried a feint to Y’neth’s ribs, followed by a backslash to the knee. Y’neth batted the blade away again and used the opening to come in with a backslash of her own across Tenna’s midriff, but the girl was too nimble and hopped out of range. Y’neth pressed her advantage, slicing a zig-zag patterned of cuts through the air from high to low. Tenna blocked them all.

  Y’neth stood back in her stance and caught her breath. “You’re getting faster, girl. A week ago you couldn’t block my slowest movements. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were an elf.”

  “Ha!” Tenna laughed. “I’m no more elf than you.”

  Tenna flew back into the fray, beginning to enjoy herself. She delivered a lightning series of crosswise slashes that drove a wide-eyed Y’neth back, barely able to keep to her feet. Tenna pushed her back against the capstan and its sudden solidness at her back made Y’neth drop her guard ever so slightly.

  Tenna’s blade drove home, tapping Y’neth on her chest between her hearts.

  A stunned silence fell across the deck. Even Tenna could only stare at her hand and the blade it held. How did she beat Y’neth?

  Usually unflappable, Quist stood with his mouth agape.

  Y’neth looked at Tenna as if seeing her for the first time.”How did you…?”

  Tenna shook her head, grasping for an answer. A crewman up in the rigging began to clap and the others joined in, hollering as if they were in the Great Arena in Madhebah.

  The applause pulled the duelists out of their collective shock. Y’neth straightened herself and pulled her sword hilt to her nose, giving Tenna a formal bow. Tenna blushed and returned the salute, accepting the honor while wondering how she’d won it.

  Quist walked over and bowed with a light twinkling in his eyes. “You’ve progressed considerably. We must hone this gift.”

  Just then, they heard a pair of heavy boots stomping up the stairs from belowdecks. Duras, eyes heavy-lidded from sleep, asked, “What’s all the rumpus? Did I miss something?”

  Tenna looked at Y’neth. Unable to hold it in, they burst out laughing.

  Duras looked around in confusion. “What?”

  69

  Parthiy

  Sparring became more frustrating as the afternoon wore on. Quist had spent their lunch break regaling Katalas and Duras with a blow-by-blow account of the earlier bout. Tenna watched as their eyebrows crept higher and higher and her father’s face filled with pride.

  Karah’s face did as well, much to Tenna’s confusion.

  She took a bit of rest in a hammock on the forecastle after the meal. Karah lounged nearby and they had talked while watching Tander’s bird hunted above the reedy wetlands and Mas chased shadows across the deck. Tenna idly wondered if Tander was watching her through his bird’s eyes.

  A little while later she found herself squaring off against Quist, learning first hand that the praise he’d heaped on her at lunch was little help against his far-superior skill. They took a welcome break to let her catch her breath and watched Katalas and Y’neth weave their own deadly dance.

  Tenna stood breathless, watching as neither of them seemed to be able to gain a clear advantage over the other, as usual. The near-constant ringing of their swords provided a melody to the rhythm of their feet.

  As her heartbeat slowed, Tenna began to analyze the pair’s movements. She could see how Y’neth always locked her wrist during a parry, a move that made her elbow and shoulder absorb more of the impact than necessary. It also caused a minute opening in her guard, an opening someone swift enough could exploit to score a hit.

  Maybe Tenna had been fast enough.

  She saw Katalas had a glaring weakness of his own, a tendency to hold his ready stance a touch too high. Thinking back, she realized Quist had used that weakness to his advantage many times. She could see Y’neth was aware of it as well, but too slow to take advantage.

  “You see it, don’t you?” Quist whispered. “You could defeat Katalas if you were fast enough.”

  “But I’m not,” Tenna said.

  “Few humans are,” Quist nodded. “When a human and an elf of equal skill meet, the elf almost always prevails. Humans cannot match an elf’s speed and agility.”

  “Almost always?”

  “It’s not unheard of for a human to prevail, only difficult.”

  “What about Y’neth?” Tenna asked. “They seem to be equal in every way
.”

  “No, Katalas is faster, but she is more skilled,” Quist said. “Come, let’s practice while we have the light.”

  They took a position further down the open deck and bowed. Quist preferred she make the initial moves, so she tried a different combination of the forms she’d memorized—Knifing Fish to Hidden Scorpion, into Soaring Eagle then Sly Fox. She executed the forms and transitions smoothly but failed to connect. Quist was too fast.

  Something else happened to her technique, a significant change. Though she found no weaknesses in Quist’s form, she found she could distinguish between his individual moves in a way she had not been aware of before. Understanding came, understanding of evident advantages. She fell back into a defensive stance and let Quist play the aggressor.

  Quist took the lead, pressing in with a succession of swipes she recognized from earlier in the afternoon, followed by another familiar pattern, then another. Each and every swing came in the same order he’d used earlier in the afternoon.

  Katalas once told her of moments when time seemed to slow to a crawl in the heat of battle. That didn’t describe what she felt, but it did seem her awareness of the situation was growing, expanding somehow. It wasn’t precognition of the elf’s moves exactly, but her reactions began to come so fast as to seem instantaneous.

  Perhaps he was slowing down his pace for the benefit of her training.

  Quist rained down blow after blow, sometimes following a recognizable pattern, but often diverging into random and disjointed moves. Tenna matched every stroke instinctively until she understood just how well she was doing. It was then—when her mind tried to grasp control of the moves—that her heightened awareness melted away.

  Her defeat came in a blink. Quist batted her blade aside and touched his sword tip to her chest.

  “Shards!” Tander’s familiar voice rang across the deck.

  Tenna bent over and put her hands on her knees, breathing hard. She looked up to see Tander, her father, and the wizard standing at the top of the gangplank. She had no idea how long they had been there, but by the looks on their faces it had been long enough to witness much of the fight.

  “By the Light,” Tander shook his head in wonder. “When did you get so fast?”

  “I…I…” Tenna stammered. She looked around the deck and saw the crew looking at her in disbelief. Even Katalas and Y’neth had stopped their own duel to watch, standing aside in wide-eyed astonishment.

  Her father came close, giving her a smile of assurance as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “All those years I pushed you to train are paying off, I see.”

  His voice seemed a little too loud, as if he meant for the entire deck to hear what he had to say. He took her hand and kissed it, then gave her an affectionate squeeze.

  Zalas turned to look at Tander. “Your days of laying about in bed are over, boy. You’ve fallen behind. We need to double up on your training soon.”

  Tander rolled his eyes. “Ugh, I can’t wait.”

  Y’neth laughed at the boy’s sarcasm, breaking the awkwardness of the moment. Tenna felt some relief, but couldn’t help but worry. What happened and how?

  She looked at Quist to find that even he was watching her with increased scrutiny.

  Karah came and stood next to Doulos. “Is there news?”

  Doulos nodded. “I had my doubts about getting involved with Silent Runner’s schemes, but I think it may be our best chance of retrieving Dilkah.”

  “How so?” Karah asked.

  “Let’s go below. There are far too many ears up here.”

  Tenna slid her practice sword back into the barrel as she followed the company down to the crew’s mess. Doulos stood within, gathering his thoughts as they took their places.

  Y’neth pressed the matter. “I thought you didn’t want to get involved in Ulquiy’s politics.”

  “We don’t have much choice,” Doulos said. “Silent Runner has contacts inside the New House, namely three of the other clan chiefs.”

  “I thought all the chiefs went along with The Fang’s elevation to the chair,” Duras said.

  “To avoid civil war in the face of an invasion, yes,” Doulos said, “but none of them understood how unstable this usurper would turn out. They say he never goes anywhere without Dilkah. He spends the whole day in the audience chamber, even if there are no matters to attend to. The sword hangs above the chair like a symbol of authority. They say he even takes Dilkah to bed with him each night and speaks to it when he thinks no one is watching.”

  “Madness,” Duras shook his head.

  “I understand the situation better now,” Doulos said. “I’m convinced nothing but a full display of my power could get us in and out with Dilkah in hand, causing untold damage and death as a consequence. New House was designed to be more of a fortress than palace, a last bastion against overwhelming odds.”

  “So how do we get in?” asked Tenna.

  “Runner has access to hidden passages within the fortress walls. He’ll sneak us inside in return for our help, and his warriors will fight at our sides.”

  “The Fang and his shaman know nothing of these secret ways?” asked Stile.

  “Nothing,” Doulos nodded. “Silent Runner, and his father before him, oversaw the building’s construction. They’ve kept existence of the passageways hidden from even the other clan chiefs.”

  “How’d they manage that?” Tenna asked.

  “They hired dwarven stone smiths,” Doulos said.”

  “I knew it,” Duras grinned. “Who else could build a fortress like that and keep such secrets?”

  “Why is that significant?” asked Stile.

  “Because a dwarf would never divulge the secrets of a making, even under torture,” Duras said. “If my people make something secret, it stays secret forever.”

  “Like your dwarven door,” Stile said.

  “Precisely,” Duras nodded. “If you don’t know where to look, you’ll never find them on your own.”

  “So, if the Wolf clan could invade the New House any time, and he’s got the ear of some of the other chiefs, what does he need us for?” Tenna asked.

  “The shaman is more than they can handle,” Doulos said. “Could be he’s more than I can handle.”

  “Your suspicions were right?” Tenna asked.

  “In part,” Doulos nodded. “I have no doubt he’s an agent of the Deceiver.”

  “The same way you’re an apostle of Da’ath?” Y’neth asked.

  “In a way, yes,” Doulos said. “I realized we’re not dealing with a man who’s been granted power, but a being of power who’s been given more.”

  Quist’s eyes narrowed. “You say being and not man. What is he?”

  “A dragon.”

  “Kitrinos,” Quist spat the name like a curse.

  “What? How can you know that?” Zalas.

  “He’s the most proficient shapeshifter in their family. Most dragons leave tell-tale signs, but not Kitrinos. He’s almost impossible to detect when he’s taken on another form. His transformations are all but perfect.”

  “We’re dealing with a dragon imbued with power from the Deceiver,” Doulos said. “We’re not prepared to face that kind of power.”

  “Perhaps I should summon Mahir,” Karah said. “His presence might draw Kitrinos away long enough to deal with The Fang.”

  “Those two have a deep and abiding hatred for one another,” Quist nodded. “If Mahir can’t force that yellow snake into revealing himself then nothing will.”

  “See to it,” Doulos ordered. “Let’s see if we can coordinate Mahir’s arrival to coincide with our raid on the New House.”

  “When?” Quist asked.

  “The Fang is holding a war council in three day’s time. Though he’s been proclaiming Ulquiy is under judgment for turning away from the Elder Gods, he’s starting to change his tune. Eldinn’s army is at the River Zohar and Snake clan lands are in jeopardy, as well as Parthiy itself. He’s reversed himself and called
on the chiefs. Silent Runner assures me that his three sympathetic chiefs will fight at his side, and possibly some of the others as well. The Fang and his warriors will be outnumbered. If we can somehow remove Kitrinos, then all the better.”

  “What’s our role then?” asked Stile.

  “Because of the threat Kitrinos poses, I’ll be the point of the spear. I can use Ehrler on The Fang to break the dragon’s hold on his mind. If I can get close enough, that is.”

  “What about the rest of us?” Y’neth asked.

  “Zalas, Tander, and I will sneak in with the press of Wolf clan warriors. Katalas and Duras will stand ready inside the Wolf clan caves to help defend our escape route. The rest of you will stay here to defend the ship. Even if we manage to get our hands on Dilkah, we may have to make a run for it.”

  “Why are you leaving us behind,” Y’neth scowled and waved a hand at Tenna. “Because we’re women?”

  “No,” the wizard’s tone was flat and matter of fact. “I’m leaving two people skilled with the blade to protect Karah in Quist’s absence.”

  “Absence?” Y’neth turned on the elf. “Where are you going?”

  “Who do you think will contact Mahir?” Quist asked. “I’m the only one who knows how to reach him, and I can’t do it from the ship without revealing its location. I’ll be gone before dawn.”

  “I suggest everyone rest and prepare,” Doulos said. “We make our move in three days.”

  70

  Parthiy

  Tander was nervous. He crouched in the dark of the hidden passage along with the others involved in the raid on the New House. His nervousness had nothing to do with the upcoming assault, it was all due to the person next to him.

  When he’d been taken to the final meeting with Silent Runner earlier in the morning, he’d been introduced to a new player in the game—the Wolf clan’s own shamaness, a woman named Tawn.

  The most beautiful woman in the world.