Talon of the Unnamed Goddess, a Fantasy Adventure

by C. R. Daems

  * * * *

  Rhiannon and I fell into a comfortable routine over the next eight days. Up early, breakfast with whoever stood guard outside our room, practice at the castle, dinner at the inn, and usually a stroll around one of the markets or just sightseeing. Leszek was now well enough to be up and spent time in the training grounds. Though he hid it well, I could tell his mind was elsewhere.

  Warrior Amadi fought me several times during the week. He would have been a good fighter even without his War Sigil. With it, he had excellent reflexes, a smooth rhythm, and used a variety of complex techniques. I chose not to use my sigil, testing my skill and limits. We were about evenly matched, equal in the number of killing blows. Few fighters, even exceptional ones, can match a fully trained Talon.

  Whenever Amadi won, he always made a big speech afterward about the inferiority of women or about being better than Talons and would never allow me to critique the match. If he lost, he stormed out of the training yard. Today was no different.

  Most of the Jaddahan warriors respected the few women warriors among them, but I soon realized that Amadi had something to prove in besting a woman. He often glared at Chimola. I suspected she had gained her position of leadership at his expense.

  On this day, Amadi scored what would have been a killing blow and walked around the yard preening. "See my friends, the hi'Lord's Fangs are great, and I am the greatest. We are the equal of the Talon, and the Talon women would die at our feet in a real fight. Do you finally admit it, Aisha Talon?" Amadi added ‘Talon' with emphasis, which he had omitted since we met.

  "You are an excellent fighter in the practice ring, as are all of the hi'Lord's elite guards. But the training ring is meant to learn, not to show off. That diminishes the purpose behind training and serves no one well." I hoped to draw him into a meaningful discussion of training. He was good and could be helpful to his comrades. As it was, they were afraid of him and learned nothing from matches with him.

  "Get your knives and I will teach you respect. First blood." He smirked as he surveyed the warriors still in the training area.

  "I must decline, Warrior Amadi. Talons do not fight first blood matches, only first death, and I have no reason to want you dead."

  "You coward!"

  "Enough, Amadi!" Anton stalked into the ring. "Leave this ring and do not return until you have regained your self-control." Amadi left with several of his friends. I worked with Anton a half hour and then finished the hour watching Rhiannon train. She had progressed well in the short time she had been practicing. Cezar emphasized deception and surprise and showed her striking areas that would kill or maim. I hoped Rhiannon never would have to use these skills.

  Chimola was our escort today as we began our walk back to the inn. When we reached the castle gate, Amadi and seven other warriors blocked the gate exit. Amadi had his knives drawn.

  "Well, if it isn't Aisha, the coward," he shouted over laughs from his audience. Most were enjoying Amadi's bravado, but a few looked nervous. Chimola immediately drew her knife.

  "Put it away, Chimola, unless the cowards attack Anka," I said.

  "You are the coward." Amadi sneered, pointing at me. I knew I wasn't going to be able to distract Amadi from a fight. He had committed himself in front of his friends and couldn't back down or even give the appearance of backing down. I couldn't avoid the fight, so I went on the offensive. I wanted him mad, blind with rage.

  "I don't need seven men to help me. You are a little boy sulking because you didn't get your way, Amadi, a little boy trying to prove you are a man. Your mother is going to be very disappointed when she finds out." I snapped on my sigil and dropped into battle mode, no fear, hate, or exhilaration, just awareness.

  Amadi charged toward me before I had finished. Enraged, he slashed at me with both knives. I parried his initial flurry and circled, light on my feet. He managed to give me a shallow cut, about a hand long, on my left arm that dripped blood down onto my hand. I could see his excitement at the sight of my blood. He pressed his attack with intricate patterns rather than going for the kill. Since he had the longer reach, I was content to wait for an opening. He scored again. This time a slightly deeper cut on my upper right arm, slightly longer than the first. I moved in close, keeping him from blocking my counterslice to his thigh. He had the advantage of reach, so I kept going in close. He didn't seem to realize he should worry about attacks to his lower body. I slashed his leg again, missing the leg artery, but I had produced a deep three-inch gash. Blood ran down his leg, dripping onto the ground.

  "No wood and stain. Real steel and real blood. Real death," I said in a soft tone.

  His excitement turned to fear. He knew the loser would die. As he attacked again, I felt the jerkiness of the moves. He thought through each move and countermove, a bad sign, for him. I could smell the fear as sweat trickled down his cheeks and soaked through his tunic. I heard his ragged breathing, saw the trembling in the limbs.

  He lunged at me. I twisted, dodging to the side, cutting his throat with my right hand and stabbing him in the kidneys with my left as he stumbled past me. He dropped to the ground with a groan. I kicked the knives away from his hands and nudged his still body over with my foot. Seeing he was dead, I nodded to myself.

  My knives covered in blood, I turned to his friends and met each of their eyes one by one until they looked away. I knew without looking that Anton had arrived and stood to my right.

  "It is a shame," Anton snapped, "that warrior Amadi did not pay attention to Aisha Talon's instruction at training today. The training yard is to learn, not to show off. I think we will make that tomorrow's lesson. You had best be about your business now." They gave me one more look then looked down and avoided my eyes as they turned and walked away.

  "Chimola, I need to stop at an Alchemist on the way to buy some herbs and cloth for my cuts," I said as we entered the gate.

  "You need a healer, Mistress," Rhiannon replied. "You are bleeding from those three cuts."

  "No, they aren't serious. We learned at the Aerie how to dress minor cuts like these. You can help me, Anka. It will be a good lesson for you."

  Chimola led us to a small house with elaborate tiles, adorned with an arabesque of leaves, flowers, and plants. Inside, the shelves were lined with hundreds of jars.

  "How may I help you mistresses?" A small, rotund man met us, his white robe and hands splotched with stains.

  "Do you have tea tree, myrtle leaves, lemon grass, and witch hazel?" I asked, looking around the little shop.

  "Yes, and I have aloe vera gel, also." His eyes darted to my wounds. "And cloth to wrap your cuts."

  The herbalist and I spent the next few minutes negotiating prices. I think he gave me a good price because I was dripping blood on his floor.

  I hurried back to our room because, although the cuts were not serious, losing blood would weaken me. I showed Rhiannon how to sew up my cuts and how to grind up the leaves, soak them, and make a poultice to wrap my wounds.

  "Not something you are likely to need, Anka. But all knowledge can be helpful sooner or later," I said as she finished. "This poultice will keep the cuts from becoming infected as well as help them heal faster."

  "Weren't you afraid, Aisha? I thought he was going to win." Rhiannon ducked her head and looked embarrassed.

  "No, Anka. Amadi was a skilled fighter, but not as skilled as I am, and he was ruled by his emotions. His excitement made him overconfident and careless. His anger made him too aggressive. But his fear is what killed him. The training yard made him prideful, excited by the thought that he could kill me. My taunting made him angry. When I cut him, he became afraid. His moves became measured, and he grew desperate to end the fight quickly, even though he might have won. The golden rule: emotions kill." I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.

  * * * *

  When Rhiannon and I arrived at the castle training yard the next morning, Anton and two Jaddahan Fang Warriors stood in the middle of the practice yard waiting for me
.

  "The hi'Lord Baqir has requested you attend him this morning. These two warriors will escort you to him." Anton motioned toward the warriors.

  **It was his nephew you killed, Sister Aisha.**

  CHAPTER TEN

  Zenjir: A Jaddah proposal of safety

  Rhiannon and I followed the guards into the main building through a large arched opening adorned with intricate carved columns. We entered a huge vestibule with a semicircular staircase at least five paces wide. Upstairs, we followed our escort through a magnificent colonnade, a hundred paces long, with doors on both sides. Halfway down the hallway, we stopped at a door with two guards and a man dressed in gold with a bright maroon tabard and keffiyeh. He disappeared through the door and returned several minutes later.

  "You may enter the reception room, Aisha Talon," he said, ignoring Rhiannon. The four-story ceiling of the room had a gold cloth pulled up at the center to look like the top of a large tent. Tapestries containing hundreds of scenes of desert life hung on the walls, enhancing the impression of a tent. I realized that it told the history of Jaddah that spanned hundreds of years. Light streamed in from window slits two stories off the ground level. The hi'Lord's throne sat on a raised platform, thirty paces into the massive room, with a red carpet leading from the door to the throne. Ten of his elite Fang Warriors flanked the carpet, at least twenty soldiers on both sides of the hall, half of them armed with crossbows.

  He's not taking any chances, I mused and calmed myself for whatever was to come.

  I whispered instructions to Rhiannon as we approached the throne. "I hope there won't be any trouble, Anka, but the floor would be a good place for you if something does happen."

  "Yes, Mistress." Her voice trembled. She darted quick looks around the room and paled.

  "Hi'Lord Baqir, we are honored." I stopped several paces short of the platform. The warriors surrounding the hi'Lord eased their white-knuckled grip on their weapons.

  A tall captain stepped forward to within a pace of me, looked me over and asked, "Are you armed?" He had a strong War Sigil and appeared readied for action.

  "Captain, I am a Talon," I said. Stupid man. He might as well ask me if I had teeth inside my mouth.

  "Give me your weapons." He stretched his hand out toward me. I wondered at the game being played here. Was this the Captain's idea or Baqir's, and what was the purpose?

  "Thirty soldiers afraid of one small woman and a girl? I thought better of the Fang," I said.

  "I can force you to give up your weapons."

  "Of course you can, Captain, which is why you don't need them." Baqir and his Captain were playing a game of wits, but I had to be careful not to let it get out of hand. "Besides, it wouldn't be in keeping with your customs to ask a woman to undress in front of all these men."

  The Captain looked over his shoulder at Baqir and then turned to walk back to stand next to the smiling hi'Lord.

  Baqir leaned forward as if to get a better look at me, inspecting me from head to foot. "You're a typical, arrogant Talon, but you don't look like someone who could have killed my nephew in a fair knife fight." I detected two strong sigils, Illusion and Truth. I decided against using my sigil. For now, I had no reason to lie.

  I raised my eyebrows. "Can you tell me how a knife fight can ever be fair, hi'Lord?" I asked, curious as to what Baqir considered fair.

  "You must know what ‘fair' means?" Baqir scowled at me.

  "No, hi'Lord, I don't. Knife fights are never fair, not even with a referee. One fighter always has more experience, or is better trained or has more skill." I paused. Hopefully, I had made my point.

  "And which was it in his case?"

  "I am a Talon. No one is better trained. But your nephew's anger and fear killed him, hi'Lord. He was filled with anger and resentment."

  "That would seem an advantage." Baqir sat back in his chair.

  "That depends on who you are fighting. It could be an advantage if you are fighting someone unskilled. If you're fighting someone who is a skilled knife fighter, it's a disadvantage."

  A man and woman stood off to the side, watching me. The man was dressed in a plain white robe with maroon trim, a seal of office around his neck. The woman wore a similar robe, but simpler and without the trim. I could see the tension in their bodies and the anger in their eyes. The man bore a resemblance to Warrior Amadi, silver-gray hair, stocky, and a little overweight, and the other, a female in her forties, black-haired and slender.

  "What would happen if his father or brother would seek revenge, Aisha Talon?" The hi'Lord didn't look toward the two.

  I shrugged. "They would have to live with the consequences, hi'Lord." I wondered what kind of an answer he was looking for, and whether Rhiannon's and my fate depended upon my answers.

  "And what would that be, Aisha Talon?"

  "I am no seer, hi'Lord. A son loses a father, or a father loses a son. Or I am assassinated and Anka loses my protection and the fate of kingdoms is uncertain. Choices have consequences, many unintended." I kept my face bland and expressionless.

  Baqir nodded. "What say you, Third Buziba?" Baqir turned toward the old man.

  "I, my son, and my wife wish her dead. However, everyone I've talked to agrees my son gave her no option and the fight was…fair. It is sad to think my son died because he had strong emotions." Buziba glared at me. "But she is right. Revenge against a Talon will only bring more grief."

  "Thank you, tri'Buziba. You have always been the voice of reason in my council. Go with my good will, and thanks." Baqir turned back to Anka and me and waited as Buziba and his wife left the room.

  "I have a proposition for you, Aisha Talon, and for the heir to Granya. First, let me tell you what is on the winds. You, Aisha Talon, were pri'Rhiannon's chaperone in a caravan escorting her and her father to the kingdom of Valda for talks of an alliance. It is claimed that Jaddahan warriors attacked the caravan, but most believe or suspect hi'Lord Radulf plotted the attack. Regardless, sec'Tadzio has usurped the position of hi'Lord of Granya and claimed hi'Varius and his daughter were killed. All the Talons, including you, were said to have been killed." Baqir paused, watching us.

  "My father's dead?" Rhiannon asked, just above a whisper. A tear crept down her cheek. I pulled her close to me, putting an arm around her shoulder. I had assumed him dead because of the ferocity of the attack, but now it was confirmed. The information about the Talons, however, was new and a shock. Usually, when the contracted person dies, the Talons stop fighting, because the contract is void. If the Talons were not allowed to stop fighting, Radulf or Tadzio must have wanted them all dead.

  "Yes, you are now the rightful hi'Lady of Granya, but sec'Tadzio claims to be hi'Lord and has the support of hi'Radulf as well as a substantial part of his army." Baqir watched Rhiannon. "I am willing to give you asylum in Jaddah. I will provide a suite in the castle, a generous allowance, and the respect due royalty. For my generosity, I would have you release Aisha Talon from her contract so that I may negotiate a contract with her. I could use a Talon of her talent."

  He looked from Rhiannon to me. "I have heard many stories of your adventures in saving your duty, killing twenty-five of your pursuers, and I am impressed. You just killed Warrior Amadi, one of the best knife fighters in the Fangs. I would pay well, Aisha Talon."

  I patted Rhiannon's back as she continued to sob on my shoulder.

  "Your offer to pri'Rhiannon is very generous, hi'Lord Baqir, but now is not a time for her to make such a decision. Also, she has yet to hear from her Talon scouts, although I believe your information is accurate, except for the twenty-five kills. I didn't count, but it was less." I needed to get Rhiannon out of here so she could have time to regain her composure and make a calm decision. The clan would decide my options. My duty remained to Rhiannon until then.

  "I understand. I'll await your decision, hi'Lady Rhiannon," Baqir said. His guards were definitely more relaxed as we exited the room, as was I.

  "What should I do, Aisha?" Rhi
annon asked between hiccupping sobs.

  "Only you can make that decision, hi'Lady Rhiannon." With the secret out, no purpose would be served by calling her Anka. "But this is not the time. Give yourself a few days to grieve for your father. By the time you hear what your Talon scouts report about the situation in Granya, you'll be better able to make a decision. There is no reason to rush into something you could regret for the rest of your life."

  * * * *

  Marku Talon and Warrior Oluchi returned two days later to find us breaking our fast at the Red Hawk Inn.

  "Hi'Lady Rhiannon," I said, "I know you are anxious for the news, but I would like Anton Talon present. He has more experience than I do. His advice could help you in making your decision." Rhiannon did not seem in a hurry to hear Marku's news.

  "I trust you, Aisha. If you think Anton will help, I can wait. I've reconciled myself to my father's death. Maybe hi'Baqir's offer is the best I can hope for, and you could do well working for the hi'Lord," Rhiannon said with tears in her eyes and resignation in her tone. The past two days had been difficult ones. Rhiannon tried hard not to show her grief, but she was young and left with no one. I understood the tears that she couldn't help shedding.

  "Hi'Lady Rhiannon, I already work for a hi'Lady now and will do so until such time as you no longer need or want me. This is a decision that will affect your entire life. I want you to have all of the facts and the best advice we can give you before you make a decision." Although I knew that I shouldn't, I had become fond of Rhiannon. I felt almost as though she were a younger sister. I wanted desperately to tell her to fight for what was hers, but that would have been wrong. She must decide for herself.

  Anton arrived an hour later, and the men followed Rhiannon and me to our room.

  "You made good time, Marku," I said as we sat down. I had thought it would take a week or two more to ascertain the current situation and the fate of the caravan.