and silent, flowed with the contest.
Again Jyrbian attacked high, was met, and sent his opponent stumbling backward. He sliced low.
The captain scuttled sideways.
Jyrbian could see the trace of fear in the other man. The other parried, defended, skipped about in desperation to elude the blade that seemed to shimmer in spite of the blood drying on its edge, despite the diminishing light.
Jyrbian reached deftly past his defenses and pricked his opponent’s neck, sliced his arm, light cuts that seemed more taunting than harmful. He caught the captain’s sword and flipped it neatly out of his hand. With a quick sweep of his foot, he tripped the Ogre.
While the captain lay on the ground, cringing, Jyr-bian stepped on his sword and broke the brightly polished blade. Standing over the fallen man, his own sword dangling carelessly so that the tip hovered over the Ogre’s chest, Jyrbian said quietly, “I am Jyrbian, of Clan Taika.”
He paused, just long enough for the Ogre’s eyes to grow large, for him to tremble. Then Jyrbian coldly turned his back and strode away.
The warriors in his path respectfully parted to let him through. Then he heard the whoosh of something fly through the air. He wheeled and crouched low.
The Ogre captain was half sitting, his arm extended, fingers spread. Jyrbian had seen Khallayne in the same posture when she was spellcasting. But this Ogre would cast no more spells.
He was staring stupidly, not at his own hand, but at the dagger protruding from his chest-Kaede’s dagger, buried to the hilt.
Kaede stood to Jyrbian’s left, her hand still extended. Looking at Jyrbian, her lips curved in a smile. He remembered then that Khallayne had been teaching her magic.
“Apparently,” he said, “you’ve progressed quite nicely in your lessons.”
“Now they’re
He looked about at the sweaty, bloody Ogres. He nodded. “And now we’re going to win some battles, instead of sitting and waiting for the humans to come and slaughter us.”
A shout of victory, of celebration, went up around him.
Khallayne had been left behind when Kaede had gone crashing down the slope, dragging Jelindra along with her. Her horse had almost thrown her.
Kaede was about to join the fighting when Khallayne caught up with her and tore Jelindra’s reins from Kaede’s saddle. Kaede had barely paused before turning her attention to the battle.
Khallayne took Jelindra into the valley, away from the worst of the fighting. Jelindra was dazed, caught up in some spell. She tried to get away. Khallayne rode her down, caught her by the back of her tunic, and held on as the girl kicked and screamed. Khallayne slid to the ground, still gripping Jelindra’s tunic.
“Jelindra! Jelindra, stop it! Let me talk to you!”
Jelindra kicked her, tried to run.
Khallayne tackled the girl, brought her down hard. When Jelindra rolled over and tried to fight back, she slapped her. “Stop fighting me!” Khallayne shouted.
Jelindra collapsed into sobs. “Please, let me go! Please, Khallayne, let me go. She keeps the thoughts away. Please let me go.”
“What are you talking about?”
The fighting had grown fierce near the stream. Khallayne held Jelindra’s face against her shoulder and watched the Ogre company sending the humans fleeing back into the forest. Their chance to escape would soon vanish if they didn’t leave now.
“She lets me forget,” Jelindra cried, pushing away from Khallayne. Her childish voice rose to a piercing scream. “She lets me forget Nomryh! She lets me forget that I killed him!”
Khallayne sat stupefied as the girl jumped up and ran back toward the group of Ogres who were congregating at the stream, toward Kaede.
She witnessed the end of the fight between Jyrbian and the Ogre captain. She saw Kaede send the dagger flying. Then she saw Jyrbian look around for her and send a handful of guards trotting across the field toward her. She sat on the cold ground and waited for them.
Jyrbian claimed the tent of the dead leader. No one disputed his right.
Kaede stood for a moment at the door, surveying the small room created by canvas walls. It housed a cot, which appeared fairly comfortable, a chest, and a small folding table. The table bore neatly folded squares of thick paper, obviously maps, which the Ogre captain had not seen fit to consult.
Jyrbian unbuckled his sword and laid it on the table, then sat on the edge of the cot and loosened the laces of his boots.
“You made the mistake of turning your back on him,” she said finally, part statement, part question.
He eased one boot off and stretched his foot out in front of him before planting it on the carpet. “You were there.”
She smiled at his confidence in her, at the appreciation in his gaze, and remembered with pleasure flinging her dagger and feeling the power of her magic send it to its target.
“Where’re Khallayne and the girl?” Jyrbian asked.
“The girl came back to me,” Kaede said smugly. “I’ll assign guards to keep them under watch, but she won’t stray.”
“No. I want them in here.” He removed the other boot.
Kaede’s expression went from joyous to disappointed, but she turned to follow his orders.
“But not now,” he reached out and caught her before she could take a step, caught the front of her tunic and used his grip to pull her close. With one arm around her, he tugged on the material again, and one of the carved bone buttons popped off.
He tugged again, harder, and thread snapped as two more buttons flew. As she reached for the front of the tunic to unbutton it rather than ruin it, he yanked more buttons off. “Never mind. You’ll need a new uniform for our return to Takar anyway.”
They rode into Takar at the head of the company, flags held high, symbolizing their victory.
The warriors’ uniforms had been altered as much as possible, stripes and decorations torn off. They all wore, as did Jyrbian, the crescent symbol of Sar-gonnas, God of Destruction and Vengeance, fashioned from the bones of their enemy. They were no longer of the Dalle Clan. They were Jyrbian’s.
The pageantry of the warriors drew a crowd of onlookers as they rode through the streets, stirring cheers.
Kaede was breathtaking in her red-and-white silks, her long, silver hair pulled back and braided warrior style.
Khallayne and Jelindra rode behind them, flanked by guards. Jelindra was swallowed up in her warrior tunic. Khallayne wore hers carelessly, showing her disdain.
Jyrbian proudly wore the same clothes he was wearing when he had left Takar, now bloodstained and well used. He’d cut his long hair to just above shoulder length and gathered it at the nape of his neck. His sword lay across his back.
The crowd responded to him, to the power they felt in him. They cheered and ran alongside the troops to keep him in sight.
Riding beside him, Kaede felt like laughing, and did so as the cobbled streets grew crowded and boisterous.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
