Ashok said nothing. He would not let himself be distracted.
“What if you were fighting a siege battle and the attackers broke through the wall?” Uwan continued as he lunged, and Ashok dodged rather than try to bring the chain up for a defense. “How would you use the chain to defend when a thousand of your comrades stood around you?”
Jamet had asked him a similar question. “I’ve never had to fight a siege,” Ashok said, and snapped the chain taut in time to parry an overhand strike from the greatsword. The weight of the weapon was astonishing. Ashok’s grip slipped on the wooden chain handles, but he held them until Uwan broke off the attack.
Ashok swung the chain as Uwan raised his blade again, and struck a glancing blow off the leader’s shoulder. Metal rang loudly against Uwan’s armor, but there was no exposed skin to strike. Ashok’s chain fell harmlessly to the ground.
“You’re not used to fighting heavily armored opponents either,” Uwan said. “You’ve only fought those with little or none. Perhaps you should try wielding a blade.”
“So I can defend Ikemmu?” Ashok said, dodging another swing and finding himself with his back to the fence. He sent the chain out, closer to Uwan’s face. Unhelmed, the leader’s skin was flushed with the battle, his hair wet with sweat. He’d been in training already that day, Ashok thought, but he hadn’t lost a step. The leader seemed to have a boundless supply of energy.
“Everyone needs a reason to fight, Ashok, and comrades to stand with him,” Uwan said. Metal screeched on metal as Uwan’s blade ground against Ashok’s chain spikes. “Else you’ll end up alone on the plain, pursued by the hounds.”
“It’s as good a death as any,” Ashok said.
Uwan hesitated, his sword tangled with Ashok’s chain. “You truly believe that?” he asked. “You believe that if attacked, Skagi, Cree, and the rest would not stand with you in defense of your life?”
Ashok didn’t answer, but an image of the shadar-kai surrounding the paddock while he challenged the nightmare flashed in his mind. On its heels came an image of Lakesh’s slashed throat. Ashok stumbled but managed to free his chain and held it one-handed. With the other he drew his dagger.
“You fight impersonally,” Uwan said. “That’s your mistake. You push the enemy away, and that’s fine, it’ll keep you alive. But you leave no room for allies.”
“Because the ally might plant his own weapon in my back,” Ashok said. He couldn’t get the image of Lakesh’s dead eyes out of his head. He wished Uwan would stop talking, but the leader persisted.
“Not in Ikemmu,” Uwan said. “Here your allies would die for you.” He came in tight at Ashok’s right side. Ashok tried to parry with the dagger, but the greatsword was too much for the weapon. It broke through Ashok’s guard and took a slice at his breastplate. A handful of bone splintered, and Ashok felt the blade open his skin.
They broke apart, and Ashok reached up to feel the wound. His hands came away soaked in blood. “You have me,” he said.
“You still stand,” Uwan pointed out.
“Not on a battlefield, I wouldn’t,” Ashok said. “The challenge goes to you.”
He gathered up his chain and left the field. The other partners were sparring heatedly, probably hoping to impress their leader, Ashok thought.
He wadded up his sleeve and pressed it to the chest wound. It wasn’t deep enough to need healing, but it bled liberally. His shirt stuck to his chest, and the copper scent mixed with the smoke smell drifting over from the forges made his head swim.
Lakesh’s blood had been all over his chamber. He’d smelled it constantly, even when he slept …
“On your knees at last!” called a voice.
Ashok glanced over to see Cree and Skagi nearing the end of their duel. Skagi had disarmed his brother. Cree tried to evade Skagi’s reach, but he stumbled. Skagi raised his falchion.
Blood scent in his nose, and the smell of smoke so close. Suddenly, Ashok was back in the cave, his brother stalking toward him with a sword in his hand. He stared across the training yard and saw him, Lakesh, a falchion in his hands, going for Cree’s throat.
“No!” The scream ripped out of Ashok. He ran, his feet pounding the ground as he tore across the yard. “Don’t!”
His brother turned to look at him, confusion in his eyes. Ashok slapped the blade out of his hands and tackled him. Lakesh cursed and fought back, his hands pushing at Ashok’s chest and shoulders. Ashok straddled and held him down with a hand pressed against his jaw, his fingers digging into Lakesh’s cheeks.
“You won’t kill him,” Ashok growled.
Lakesh slapped him across the face, getting dirt in his eyes. “Get off me!” he yelled. “Are you godsdamn crazy?”
Ashok’s vision swam. He wiped the dirt away with his other hand and saw Skagi lying beneath him. Ashok’s fingernails had gouged red lines into his gray face.
Stunned, Ashok’s arms went slack. Skagi shoved him off, and he landed on his back on the ground. Ashok looked at the bloody dirt caked under his fingernails, and his breath started to come fast. He couldn’t control it. The training yard started to spin.
Above him, he heard voices, faintly, as if they echoed from the bridges far up the canyon wall.
“What happened? Who’s hurt?” they said.
He thought he heard Jamet’s voice, but he couldn’t be sure. He heard the wind echoing through the cave, and he could still smell the fire, though his father had put it out long before …
“He came out of nowhere; he was like an animal,” said Skagi, as furious as Ashok had ever heard him. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
Ashok couldn’t blame the warrior. Blindsiding him like that-he was worse than Chanoch.
Then he heard Uwan’s voice.
“All right, everyone get back,” he said. “Jamet, take your recruits inside the tower. Cree, take your brother and see to his face.” A pause. “Vedoran, help me with him.”
Blurred shapes leaned over Ashok with their hands outstretched.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Ashok awoke, he was in the cave. The scar from his campfire blackened the floor, along with Lakesh’s blood. He reached up to feel the wound in his chest, the wound Uwan had given him, but it wasn’t there. His flesh was unmarked.
“A dream?” he said aloud, his voice groggy with sleep. Slowly, Ashok sat up and rubbed his eyes. The cave was still there. He smelled the lingering smoke and blood. His weapons were on his belt, and he could hear the sounds of the enclave stirring for the new day.
Everything was as it should be.
Gods, please no, Ashok thought. Ikemmu-his deepest desires given form-all of it couldn’t have been just a dream.
He heard footsteps coming down the tunnel. Ashok’s father came into the chamber, his red hair wild and dust-covered.
“You’ve been out on the plain,” Ashok said.
His father grunted. “Yes, while you were safe abed,” he replied.
“Hardly safe,” Ashok said.
“Lakesh. Yes,” his father said, waving a hand and dismissing Ashok’s brother. “We have more important things to worry about now. I’ve been scouting. There’s a party approaching the caves a few miles out. We don’t know how many there are or what they are, but it’s clear they’re headed this way. They know we’re here.”
Ashok stood and faced his father. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“You’ve heard the pack calling,” his father said, “when we sleep, and the caves are quiet?”
“The shadow hounds?” Ashok said. “Yes. They’ve moved their hunting grounds closer to the cave. We’ll have
