Sitting on one of the two chairs was an armored bull of a man in the pebbled armor that seemed to be the preference of the warrior types around here. With piercing blue eyes and a blonde beard streaked with white, he lacked the pattern baldness so common in base stock humans. He cut an imposing figure and looked like a cross between a modern warlord and an ancient barbarian king.
In the other chair was a beautiful woman. She appeared to be around the same age as the man, but other than that similarity they were nothing alike. Where he pronounced power and presence, she came across as ethereal and other worldly. Where he was obviously large and strong, she seemed almost wispy and bird like. Where he had streaks of white, her hair was a uniform shade of corn silk blond so pale it was almost, but not quite white. Where he had weapons, she had jewelry.
I couldn’t imagine any couple looking more different than these two. Not when they were of the same culture and racial stock. You’d have to start mixing different genetic lines before you’d approach the disparity between these two.
When the woman’s gaze found us, her hands became still and her eyes locked onto Akantha like a dying woman who had suddenly found a life line and the grief that had been on her face slowly began to fade away.
The man, on the other hand bellowed like a stuck pig when he saw us. His eyes weren’t fixated on my ice maiden, although they still burned when he looked at her. Instead, he spread his gaze over the rest of us in her party, registering the presence of Kephus then moving over me and my armored companions finally seeking out the unarmored Prometheans with their rifles before returning to focus on my own recently mutilated face.
I suppose that since I was standing next to Akantha and I was the only armored figure without a helmet, I was the obvious choice for him to land the full force of his anger on. The lack of a helmet was not by choice, but by necessity. Fortunately or unfortunately this very telling lack had the effect of making me an easy person to focus on. I’m sure my scarred and damaged skin wasn’t what he had been expecting because his anger visibly flickered and turned pondering before once again hardening into a harsh look of calculation.
Clearing the way by dint of size and sheer presence, the man strode down the steps, beckoning us closer. His posture said as clearly as anything that he had come as far to meet us as he intended, and his abrupt gesture also made it clear that it was up to us to meet him the rest of the way.
As we approached, I could see that he had the same Nordic nose and general features as the rest of the local indigenous population. A strong brow and a jagged scar started at his forehead and ran across his eye and over his nose before trailing off, indicating that this was a man who had been in a real fight and was both skilled and very lucky to still have both eyes. It added an intimidating cast to his harsh, angular features.
Eyes fixing on the vibro-blade, he grunted. “So the Woman made of Ice has finally met the man who could melt her where no other suitor stood a chance. You’ve taken a sword, daughter-mine, and I’m incensed that neither my council nor permission was sought before such a momentous decision,” he scowled and if looks could kill, his would have been like a battle axe when his attention turned towards me.
Clearly, he knew who was to blame for this sorry state of affairs, but was just flat wrong about the whole melting bit. Akantha was still as icy as ever, at least as far as I was concerned. Still, other than the fact he looked like he wanted me dead, it was nice to see another man whose opinion of her ran parallel to mine. I was confused though, I thought we were here to meet her uncle, not her father.
The next words cleared up my confusion.
“Uncle,” she replied, any true feelings hidden behind that icy mask I’d come to know so well and hate. “As you know, a Land Bride needs not seek the permission of any man. Nor any woman. I am under no obligation to consult with either my mother or her Protector. The decision is mine alone,” she said coldly, then turned to look at her mother. Her face softened slightly. “I wish there had been time to speak with you beforehand, mother. Circumstances did not allow, but I trust you believe me when I say that after everything that’s gone before, I did not make this decision lightly.”
She turned back to face her Uncle and the cold mask returned. “As for your council, you’ve thrust it upon me so many times I felt sure I understood it. You feel I should either accept one of the lackeys you’ve pushed at me time and again or, having rejected them all, wait until you found someone new to put in front of me,” she said with the same cold remoteness as before.
“You little fool,” growled her uncle, “you meet some foreigner from a far away land and just bring him in the Zosime without consulting your parents as is the tradition and custom of this land. I won’t stand for it. I forbid this union,” he declared.
Akantha shook her head. “You have not that right, Uncle. I am a Land Bride and thus have the right to accept whomever I choose as Protector.” She stood there, looking impervious to the large man's anger.
Her uncle took a moment to throttle back his fury before responding. “I would not be so sure about that, daughter-mine,” he finally spat, then turned to an older man standing in a corner of the dais, out of the way but readily available in case the pair needed them.
“Nazoraios, I seek your learned opinion on the matter. Can this wayward daughter of mine ignore the wishes of her parents as completely as this one suggests?” His tone was harsh, and all but begging for a confrontation.
Around us I could feel the room tighten as men gripped their swords and women leaned closer. Everyone looked on this little set-to with intense interest and, in some cases, outright glee on their faces. It looked like whatever this Nazoraios had to say would carry great weight and they didn’t expect it to be good news for my ice maiden. Clearly Akantha wasn’t well-loved in this small court. I almost felt a kinship with her in that very moment. Almost.
“An interesting question, Protector Nykator. Very interesting, indeed,” the older man lidded his eyes in consideration.
He might be old, but his eyes were sharp and he still had muscle on his frame. Nazoraios paused to stroke his white beard before shaking his head. “A Land Bride does have the right to accept whoever offers as her Protector, without consultation of any kind. Permission from neither her mother or her father is necessary,” he finally said, and I could hear the sighs of disappointment circling around the room. In the pause that followed, the Protector who was also an uncle purpled.
When it looked like he was about to explode, Nazoraios looked sidelong at the uncle and his niece, “Although a Land Bride does have that right,” he repeated carefully, before continuing, “according to inheritance law, if the mother does not give her blessing to the union before,” he paused to emphasis that last word, “the Land Bride accepts a Sword, both the Hold Mistress and her Protector have the right to test the fitness of the new Protector.”
Nazoraios’ gaze flitted around the room taking the temperature of the court. “In extreme cases, the Hold Mistress has the right to disinherit the Land Bride, who would then be free to set out in search out new lands." The room buzzed with excitement at this latest revelation.
“Of course I’m not disinheriting my daughter,” said Akantha’s mother firmly, quieting the growing commotion. “What nonsense. Besides, if Adonia thinks she’s found a Protector who will be a good match for her and will be able look to the inheritance of her daughters, then as much as it pains me not to have been involved in the decision sooner, I respect her judgment. My daughter is a very level-headed girl and I trust her decision,” said her mother, disappointment over the abrupt change in her daughter’s status overwhelmed by relief at her safe return. “I’m just thankful to the gods that she’s back in the arms of her family.”
Uncle Nykator looked like he completely disagreed with his wife, but gave a smile anyone could see was false, anyway. Aside from the medieval arms, armor and the rustic nature of the construction surrounding us, this was all starting to seem very familiar to me.
Too familiar, if you asked my opinion.
“We all rejoice at little Akantha’s safe return, my sweet Sapphira,” he said, sounding anything but happy at Akantha’s return before turning to capture his wife’s hand and place a possessive kiss on it. He then let go of her hand and turned back to face our party. “Still, however much we might rejoice at our Daughter’s safe return, there is the matter of a foreign Protector. One untested by the rigors of life and combat.”
I snorted loudly and made a show of rubbing at my face, as evidence of just how untested I was or wasn’t, and her Uncle looked at me and grimaced before continuing as if I hadn’t interrupted.
“Untested by our rigorous way of life.” He repeated, his voice sounding like a not-too-distant thunderstorm.
Sapphira looked in alarm at Akantha’s Uncle. “Surely, it doesn’t matter whether the girl secures my blessing before or after, Hypatios,” she pleaded with her Protector.
I had to wonder just how many names these people had and used in everyday life. It was hard to keep track of them all.
Sapphira, unaware of my thoughts, continued with her impassioned plea. “What’s important is that she has received it. As well as my complete confidence in the sword of her choice.”
“My dear Polymnia,” he said, giving Sapphira an intimate look.
There they went again! Changing names with no apparent rhyme or reason that I could fathom.
“I am pleased you’re happy, but we can’t have an untested Protector guarding ‘our’ Daughter. I must insist on this point. There are others whose suit Akantha has spurned for too long,” said Uncle Hypatios Nykator.
“Surely this is unnecessary,” said Akantha’s mother, beginning to wilt.
“The man shall be tested. I insist,” said the uncle. At Sapphira’s continued rebellious look his voice hardened, “I am the Protector of Argos. I am also a Warlord of Men under my own Banner, as well Lord of the Tegean Host by strength of arms and general acclaim. I like to think I know a thing or two about testing the quality of warriors and protectors,” he said all of this while looking at Akantha, then paused for emphasis before turning back to Sapphira.
“My dearest Hold Mistress and most favored Sword Bearer, if you feel I am no longer fit to make the decisions that are necessary as your Protector, and to carry out those decisions as I see the need, I willingly offer to reclaim my sword and depart Argos in peace. I swear there will be no feud or bitter circumstances between us because of this,” he said pleasantly, his eyes teasing a threat.
Akantha’s mother looked dismayed. “No,” she said faintly. “I’ll not rebuke you. You know more of men and warriors than I, being one yourself. If you feel the need to test this Protector, despite my daughter's choice and receipt of my belated favor, then you must do as you think best.” Sapphira looked dismayed and unhappy.
“I bow to your will in this matter, Hold Mistress,” Uncle Nykator said with a cruel laugh.
I glanced over at the Lady Akantha. She seemed furious and dismayed but not overly surprised at this latest turn. I looked back at her overbearing Uncle. Despite the fact he was built like a mountain, I felt nothing but disgust for the man’s heavy handed tactics. Although fury, mostly at my ‘Sword-Bearer’ for not warning me about small little potential problems like the fact I might have to fight the very uncle we were coming to petition, was running a close second.
“What does this testing involve,” I asked, working hard to keeping the stress out of my voice. Apparently, I was to do battle one way or another. I intended to keep the affair on footing with which I was familiar.
The Uncle glared at my scarred face for interrupting the script, “There are three ways a man may receive recognition as a warrior. Acclaim, Deeds and Combat,” he said.
The Uncle turned back to Akantha and leaned close, “You should have thought twice before crossing me, girl,” he muttered loud enough for myself and some of the closer members of the court to hear.
“Hey, listen up you overbearing idiot,” I said in a tight voice, deliberately using the last word from Confederation Standard to insult the man. “I don’t care if you are her uncle. I’m her Protector here. So speak to my Sword Bearer that way again and I’ll destroy you. I don’t care how many Hosts or Banners you have under your thumb, I’ll crush you plain and simple. The same way I crushed all those Bugs, the ones you call Sky-Demons, and freed Akantha in the first place.” I folded my power-armored arms across my chest and waited for a response.
Sure enough, it wasn’t a long time coming. The Warlord Protector of Argos yelled like a stuck bull and pulled his sword. Moving almost too fast to follow he brought the sword over and down in an over head chop, aimed right at my exposed skull.
I barely had time to raise my hands in defense and catch the sword in an inward V made out of my suddenly crossed arms.
As I suspected, the natives didn’t have anything better than normal steel, and my armor easily absorbed the blow without difficulty.
The large man grunted and pushed, trying to knock me over. But with the power assist of the suit’s servos, even this giant of a man was doomed to fail. I smirked.
Struggling to keep his own balance (her uncle really was almost as strong as a bull, I realized) I lifted up my foot and kicked him right in the middle of his pebble-armored torso, knocking him back. It should have sent the man flying, but instead Akantha’s uncle staggered back several steps. He almost fell, but managed to catch his balance in time. I was simultaneously impressed and dismayed.
I looked at the man warily. If I had thought Akantha was strong for her size, this beast of a man was in a whole other category entirely. There was no way these people were base stock humans. Not possible. They must have been heavily engineered beyond anything I had ever heard of to be able to wear all that armor and still make the battle suit servos work like they just had when going hand to hand.
Fortunately, they had nothing even approaching modern weaponry. As such, other than being able to do something to affect my head - like cut it off - there was really no other way they’d be able to hurt me.
There was a moment of shocked silence as the people saw Akantha’s giant of an Uncle fail in his attack and stagger back like that. Then a rush of armored men and half-armored women jumped in between us, crying foul.
Apparently, insulting a Warlord Protector was not only something not to be contemplated by the people here and now, but it was bad form and gave her uncle the right to challenge me. However, a challenge was a different affair entirely from just drawing your sword and trying to whack someone’s head off. So in addition to my gaffe, there was another big no-no on his side of the issue.
A debate began to rage as to whether two wrongs equaled a right and the whole thing should be considered a draw, or if two wrongs made one super big wrong and we had to do at it all big and formal now.
Not that I cared. No one talked like that about someone under my protection, let alone my wife. You learned early on that if you didn’t stand up for your allies, the hyenas at court would sense weakness and not only did they move against you full force, but pretty soon you had no friends to back you up. The next thing you knew, your family estate was getting bombarded from high orbit. The outcome of the initial exchange was less meaningful than simply participating, although losing was something that definitely counted against you. Failing to even show up and enter the verbal fray, on the other hand, was absolutely crippling.
These native barbarians were the same way. Only it appeared they settled their disagreements with swords, words and more swords, instead of just words and legal documents like I was used to.
Chapter 33: A Challenge or Two
“That was pretty stupid,” said Akantha with a frown, “Stupid to insult him like that, but in this case also brave as well.” She was wearing the least hostile look I had received from her (or anyone else, for that matter) all day. “He could have taken your head!”
“It looked like you needed some help, and he was acting worse
than an Imperial Ambassador at Court,” I spat, looking over at her Uncle. Our eyes met and I glared. Unfortunately, my glare was like a sixty watt bulb in the face of a million power search light. Still, I wasn’t going to be the first to look away.
Akantha reached up and grabbed my face, forcing my head around to face her.
Dang it, she was almost as strong as a man! I say almost as strong, because there was no way she was stronger than me, I decided. Whether out of pride or some basis in reality, I wasn’t quite sure. Still, this was not something I had signed on for. A man shouldn’t be getting manhandled by his own wife. I transferred my glare to her instead.
“I don’t need you to protect me. I can fight my own battles,” she said cuttingly and released my chin.
“You could have fooled me, the way you and your mother let him talk to you. Like a bull in a china house,” I retorted.
Admiral Who? (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 34
