by Lynn Abbey
In one hand he held a rapier; in the other a main gauche—a sword-breaker. They met in the center of the field, where both turned to the dais and bowed, then faced the herald. "Are you certain you want to do this?" the herald asked Ariko, his gaze wide with amazement. Ariko's only reply was to draw her two slightly curved blades, the shorter one in her left hand, the longer
one in her right.
The herald shook his head and sighed. "Very well. Face the dais, weapons ready. Wait for the signal, and then it's to first blood." The herald bowed to each and withdrew. From the corner of his mouth, tall Enril whispered to Ariko, "I shall try not to wound you too deeply, but
one never knows, does one?" Ariko did not reply. At a gesture from Arizak, the Rankan ambassador called from the dais. "Let it begin." The duelists faced one another and saluted with swords—Enril's gaze filled with haughty disdain, Ariko's
impassive—then circled one another warily. Of a sudden in a whirl of steel, Ariko sprang forward, her blades but a blur— —ding-clang, shmg-shang, chng-shng-zs—
—and after but seven quick strokes she disengaged and stepped back. Panting, frowning, Enril looked at her—"First blood," she said— and then he felt the warm trickle running down his right cheek.
Unbelieving, he struck his right hand to his face and wiped. His fingers came away wetly scarlet. An incredulous gasp went up from the crowd, and Enril, stunned, turned to the dais. "My lords, 'twas but an accidental—"
Enril's words chopped short as Arizak pushed out a hand for silence. "The combat is to first blood, and
first blood has been drawn. Stand down, Enril the Rankan, you have been defeated." A great roar went up from the crowd, and Enril growled but bowed to the dais, as Ariko did likewise. Then they went their separate ways, the Rankan to the north, Ariko to the south.
Grinning widely, Arizak turned to Emissary Badareen. "Bested by a chit of a girl, is this the finest Ranke
has to offer?" But off to one side stood Soldt, his eyes narrow as his gaze followed the retreating form of the yellow woman called Tiger.
In the Vulgar Unicorn that eve, many a past wager was paid and many a new one laid, and all talk was of the tourney and of the female therein… "Quick as a tiger she is, did you see?" "Aye, she's aptly named." "A golden woman at that." "Bet she's a tiger in places other than an arena." "You don't want to find out, Lamin… claw you to death, she would." "Ar, I think that Enril was right: Twas pure accident." "Do you think? I mean, she seemed, oh, I dunno, fast and deft, I suppose." "Bah, she's just a girl; either it was an accident, or he wasn't ready." "The next one she faces'll be on his toes, I'll wager."
"Speaking of wagers, what about tomorrow? Who you betting on?" "Wull, with the bye and all, and as the favorite, Soldt didn't fight today. Even so, my coin'll follow him. What about you?"
"I think I'll put a silver on the golden girl."
"Ha! Dolt! Why don't you just throw your coin into the street? I mean, betting on a girl is just plain foolish, and…" Many were the stakes proffered and accepted, odds shifting with each candlemark, Soldt yet favored to
win. The Irrunes, however, bet on the one named Tiger; how could they not, for the tiger was their totem, and even though there had been a bloodmoon, how could that be wrong? Besides, they had now seen her fight. Mostly Rankans took on the Irrune wagers in ire, for, after all, this—this… this girl had accidentally beaten one of their best, and surely she deserved what she got.
"Five more," gritted Ariko, her black eyes flashing in the moonlight. "I must face five more opponents ere
we win the jewel for this skeleton of a man—if man he is—and he sends us back to Arith." Durel growled and glanced toward his great sword. "If there were a way we could get back on our own, I'd kill the bastard."
"To do so," said Ariko, "you would have to stand in line behind me."
Durel sighed and glanced at the moon riding above in the cool night. Then he stood and held out his hand. "Come, love. 'Tis time we were abed." Ariko took his grip and levered herself up. They went into the ruins of the tower, to the chamber with a
bed so dusty that surely it hadn't been used in a decade or more.
Lurking in the shadows behind, Halott smiled to himself… if a slight twitch of his blue-tattooed lips could be said to be a smile. Beneath his robes, with a desiccated ringer he traced the long, single scar running from his throat down
the center of his cadaverous chest and hollow stomach and past his empty groin. Little do they know I cannot be slam by the paltry weapons they have. "An Ilsigi emissary came today," said Naimun. Soldt raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Come to woo Arizak, I suppose." Naimun nodded. "It seems they fear my sire will throw in his lot with Emperor Jamasharem." "What of perArizak, the Dragon?" Naimun gritted his teeth. "That hill bandit thinks to lead the Irrune once my sire is dead."
Soldt canted his head slightly. "He is your brother and the eldest of Arizak's sons." Naimun's fist clenched. "Half-brother, you mean. Half the man I am, as well. Ariz the Dragon, they call him. Ariz the Unpredictable, I say. With his temper, he's likely to—" Of a sudden, Naimun chopped off. Then he stared into his drink and growled low. "Both he and my younger brother Raith, they each think to wrench rule from my sire, but I and my friends—" Again Naimun chopped short, and he glanced at Soldt.
Soldt thrust both of his hands palms out. "Tangle me not in any intrigue, Naimun. I'm happy being what I
am." Naimun smiled. "Well and good, Soldt, being what you are. —Tomorrow is your first combat. I trust you'll fare well?"
Soldt nodded. "It's Callenon I face. I watched him today. Drops his right shoulder just before beginning a
beat. He will pay dearly for that tell." The Irrune grinned at the duelist, for surely Soldt was destined to win the black onyx for Naimun, the stone a worthy gift for his sire. And yet, even if Soldt didn't win… well, there was more than one way to skin a cat. Of a sudden, Naimun broke out laughing, and when Soldt looked at him questioningly, Naimun merely laughed all the harder.
Amid the roars of Tiger!… Tiger!… Tiger!… Ariko walked away from the center of the arena. When she reached Durel she gritted, "Four more to go." "Fast as a cat she is." "Har! I think you have the right of it. I mean, did you see her eyes?" "I did, and the eyes of a cat they are: slanty and black as a witch's cauldron."
"Where d'you think she's from, her being yellow and all?" "Golden, you mean, or so they say. And as far as where she's from, perhaps it's that witch's cauldron after all."
"Conjured up you mean?"
Arizak sat with the Rankan emissary on his right, and the Ilsigi emissary on his left—two who would exchange places on the morrow, and again in the days after, for the chief of the Irrunes would show no preference, no favorites, despite the urgings of Nadalya, Arizak's second wife, a Rankan herself. With a nod at the herald, Arizak signaled for the matches to begin. And at the herald's call, the first two of the sixteen duelists yet remaining entered the field, one of them a small female. Tiger!… Tiger!… Tiger!… roared the crowd.
Again Soldt watched the woman leave the arena, and now he knew it would take all of his skill, along with the power of his Enlibar blade, to defeat the one named Tiger.
"If there is any way to foil whatever plan Halott has and still get us back to Arith…"
Ariko in his arms in bed, Durel stroked her hair. "Shh, shh, my love. I know… I know…"
"I hear she's almost drawn even with Soldt."
"As the favorite, you mean?"
"Yar. Did you see the way she took out that big Irrune? Flipped that blade right out of his hand and then pinked him in the wrist."
"Bah! He was grim-lipped, even half-scared, when he entered the arena, her being the Tiger and all and him being an Irrune, what with their god's totem being a tiger as well."
"Say what you will, but I'm putting silver on her if it comes down to her and Soldt."
"Well I hope it does that, for then you'll see just what a fool you have been, betting on a girl… hmph!"
"Ha! It's you who will be taught a lesson, my friend. I mean, look at the way things are going: Why, it's as if the gods themselves had arranged the pairings so that the final duel will come right down to Soldt and the Tiger herself."
"Feh! 'Twasn't the gods who arranged the pairings, but Arizak's own son Naimun who made up the list. —Or so it is I hear."
"Well, Naimun or gods or no, still I say it'll be Soldt and the Tiger blading it out in the end."
As if these words had been prophetic, over the next two days, Tiger won both of her matches, as did Soldt. And though on the eve of the final match, hammering rain and lightning and thunder and a windy blow came upon Sanctuary and travel was not fit for man nor beast, still the Unicorn was crowded, the storm within nearly as fierce as the storm without, many in the throng arguing loud and long over the merits of the two who would meet on the morrow. The odds were dead even on just which one would be the victor— would it be the man who was considered the finest duelist in all of Sanctuary, in all of Ranke, in all of Ilsig—as some stoutly avowed— or instead the black-eyed, golden woman, fast as a cat and a hundred times more deadly? Where was she from? No one knew. Beyond the sea it seemed… at least she and her large companion came in a boat, or so the rumor went. Regardless, speculation was rife, and mayhap even the very gods themselves didn't know what the outcome would be.
Ariko was awakened in the night by a chuff, and she opened her eyes to see what seemed to be the fading form of a large and low-slung black beast of sorts, yet ere she could get a good look, only shadows met her gaze. The storm was gone, or nearly so, for only an occasional distant rumble did she hear. Durel lay at her side, breathing softly in his dreams, and she lay awake without disturbing him. Moments later, above the swash of the nearby risen waters of the White Foal, there came the soft steps of someone entering the chamber, and Ariko reached under her pillow and grasped the hilt of her dagger as a tall, dark form glided to the side of the bed. Through slitted eyes, Ariko watched as first one of her swords and then the other were drawn from their scabbards, and something was smeared along the sharp edge of each blade. The weapons were restored, and the tall, dark form glided away, Ariko watching as Halott softly stepped into the hallway beyond.
Awhile later she returned, a small tin in her hand, her feet damp, as if she had been walking in a dank place.
"Lords and Ladies and honored guests, to the north, Soldt!"
A thunderous roar went up from the crowd as Soldt stepped out onto the sands of the arena under the noontide sun. Dressed in soft gray leathers, he stood, a faint smile on his lips. On the dais Naimun signaled a thumbs-up, but Soldt didn't see.
When the clamor subsided, the herald called, "And to the south—" but the rest of whatever he was to say was lost under the deafening chant: Tiger!… Tiger!… Tiger!…
As Durel took Ariko's cloak he said, " 'Ware, love, for this one is truly dangerous."
Ariko nodded, and to wild cheering she paced forward and out into the arena. And in the stands an ululating cry went up from a host of Irrune tribesmen, all of whom had come to see the Tiger be the best of the best even though she was a woman, for after all, with such a name, how could Irrunega Himself not favor her?
Forward she stepped across the still-damp sand, wet from last night's rain. Even so, compacted by water, the footing was firm, better than in the days past. This contest will not be decided by a slip of a boot.
Ariko stopped mid-arena, Soldt opposite. She saw before her a man in his thirties, with a nondescript, perhaps even forgettable, face, a bit on the angular side. His hair was brown and raggedly cut as was his short and sparse beard, just enough growth to obscure his lower face without quite concealing it. His even teeth were noticeably pale against the beard. His complexion was weather-tanned. He had piercing, hazel eyes. In his left hand he held a long-knife— not a sword-breaker, but a long, straight blade, edged on both sides, with a brass-wire-wound handle and a plain steel cross-guard. In his right hand, he held a dark blade, dull in the sun, though Ariko could see a faint tinge of green showing under what seemed oddly to be a coating of murky oil.
Surely such a swordsman as this one would not so treat his weapon without due cause.
At a word from the herald, both faced the dais and bowed, and then they awaited the signal.
Arizak signed to his son Naimun, and the twenty-year-old smiled at his mother, Nadalya, then stood and stepped to the edge of the platform. He glanced at his sire, and then faced the duelists and called out for all to hear: "May Irrunega look down upon you both and smile, for it is to His honor you strive. And may the best of the best be victorious. And, now… begin!" A stillness fell over the crowd as Ariko and Soldt faced one another and saluted, and then in a flurry of blades Ariko sprang forward—shing-shang, clng, tkk, dlang, tkk, dlang, dring-dng—but with long-knife and dark-oiled sword, Soldt countered her every move, and a great roar flew skyward from the stands.
Now they both sprang back, their breathing coming in harsh gasps, and momentarily they paused. And neither seemed to hear the deafening howl of the crowd, almost as if the thunderous roar had faded into silence.
Then once more Ariko pressed forward, and the steel of her blades skirled and rang against his, as she attacked and retreated, parried and riposted, blocked and counterstruck; Soldt's power and quickness drove her back and back, and it was all she could do to fend, and whenever his dark-oiled blade met hers, a shock went through her arm. And she knew that there was something special about such a weapon.
And now Soldt drove her across the arena, and of a sudden— Shing… !—the sword from Ariko's left hand flew spinning through the air to land in the sand afar. Shkk… ! The green-tinged blade sliced down and across through leather and bronze, but no blood welled from the diagonal cut high athwart her vest, for the silk jerkin below and the flesh beneath remained untouched.
Now she fended with but a lone blade, catching both of his on her one, and then with a fierce counterattack—Cling… !—Soldt's long-knife went spinning away.
Now it was but single blade on blade, as back and forth across the arena they raged, the skirl of steel on steel howling through the air. Yet, of a sudden, Ariko's blade—shkkk—slid down Soldt's and with a twist of her wrist—ting—she won past his guard. Astonishment flashed over Soldt's face, and he and Ariko disengaged. They stepped back from one another, and Soldt held up his wrist and slowly turned about for all to see: Blood trickled down his arm.
As with a clap of thunder, to Ariko's and Soldt's ears the roar of the crowd suddenly returned, and it was deafening: ululating howls from the Irrunes, and the chant of Tiger!… Tiger!… Tiger!… from the citizens of Sanctuary, as well as those visitors from Ranke and Ilsig and those from the lands farther north.
The herald escorted both to the foot of the dais, and Soldt looked up at Naimun and shrugged. But Naimun merely smiled back at him.
Ariko was presented with an onyx gem, a gleaming ebon stone the size of a plover's egg and faintly striped with a darkness slightly lighter than the dominant black.
Soldt was presented with a necklace of gold, and as this was done Ariko could see that his eyes held a faint glaze.
But in that very moment came a wailing from the stands, and all looked up to see that the edge of the sun was being eaten away by a black arc.
The Irrunes howled in terror, and some among them fell to their knees in a plea to Irrunega. Many in the crowd called out to Vas-hanka and Savankala and Ils and others, and some voices even called out to Dyareela, seemingly in exultation. None paid any attention as Ariko and Durel led Soldt stumbling away.
By the time they reached the chamber along Shambles Cross, Durel carried Soldt over a shoulder. Once inside, Durel laid the man down on the cot, and Halott whispered, "Well done. —Now the stone, if you please."
Halott nodded, then turned to Rogi. "Take Soldt to the tower.
You know where to put him. I'll be along after the eclipse is done." With a grunt, Rogi hefted Soldt
over his own misshapen shoulder and bore him out and dumped him in a two-wheeled cart standing just outside the door. He covered Soldt with a blanket, and then he stepped between the two shafts and took them up and trundled away.
Slowly, slowly, the dark occlusion engulfed the waning sun, and now it was nearly gone. As if driven by the heavens above, a fair but chill breeze sprang up and blew southwesterly, sweeping off the land and into the bay, its waters yet somewhat unsettled by last night's storm. And down at the slips, Ariko and Durel stowed their gear aboard the small, single-masted ketch and made ready to cast off.
"In the depth of the darkness," said Halott, his voice rustling like dead leaves stirring in the wind, "sail for the ring of fire."
"Ring of fire?"
"You will know it when you see it," came the hollow reply. With his hideous, kohl-painted eyes, Halott glanced up at the sun. "Now go."
Using an oar, Durel pushed away from the slip, then with him rowing and Ariko manning the tiller, the little ketch moved away, while, behind, Halott began to chant:
"Agsh nabb thak dro …"
Free from the docks, Durel turned the ketch about, then shipped the oars and raised sail and angled the boom to make the most of the wind, and out into the bay they moved. To the fore, a luminous fog arose, a fog unaffected by the wind. And now the occlusion completely covered the sun, all but a ring of fire running entirely 'round. And reflected in the ghostly mist before them, a ring of fire appeared, and toward this ring they did sail.
