The War God's Own

Tomanak alone judges who among His servants are fit to be His champions, not we who serve Him. Sir Charrow sought to teach me that. To my shame, I refused to learn it of his gentleness, but even the most vain and foolish knight can learn when the lesson is tailored properly to his needs, Milord Champion.'

His pain-tightened mouth quirked a wry smile within his helm, and Bahzell withdrew his sword entirely.

'Aye, well as to that, lad,' he said with a ghost of a laugh, 'you'd not believe what it took for my father to hammer a lesson into my own head when I'd the bit between my teeth. I'd not want to say I was stubborn, you understand, but-'

'But I would,' another voice interrupted, and Vaijon of Almerhas' eyes went huge and round as another armed and armored figure flicked suddenly into existence behind Bahzell. The newcomer stood at least ten feet tall, brown haired and brown eyed, with a sword on his back and a mace at his belt, and the deep, bass thunder of his words made even Bahzell's powerful voice sound light as a child's.

Sir Charrow went instantly to one knee, followed just as quickly by every other person in the salle. All but one, for as the others knelt before the power and majesty of Tomanak Orfro, Sword of Light and Judge of Princes, Bahzell turned to face him with a quizzical expression and cocked ears.

'Would you, now?' he said, and more than one witness quailed in terror as he stood square-shouldered to face his god.

'I would,' Tomanak told him with a smile, 'and I feel quite confident your father would agree with me. Shall we ask him?'

'I'm thinking I'd just as soon not be bothering him, if it's all the same to you,' Bahzell replied with dignity, and Tomanak laughed. The sound shook the salle with its power and pressed against those who heard it like a storm, and he shook his head.

'I see you've learned some discretion,' he said, and looked down at Vaijon. 'The question, my knight,' he said more softly, 'is whether or not you have.'

'I… I hope so, Lord.' Vaijon had no idea where he'd found the strength to whisper those words, for as his god's brown eyes burned into him, they completed the destruction of the arrogance Bahzell had humbled at last. He was naked before those eyes, his soul exposed to the terrible power of their knowledge, for they belonged to the God of Justice and of Truth, and their power unmasked all the petty conceits and pompous self-importance which had once seemed so important for what they truly were.

Yet there was a strange mercy in that searing moment of self-revelation. He didn't even feel shame, for there was too vast a gulf between himself and the power of the being behind those eyes, and if no secret cranny of his soul was beyond their reach, then neither did they conceal their essence from him. He was aware of his abasement, of the countless ways in which he had fallen short of the standards Tomanak demanded of his sworn followers, yet he also felt Tomanak's willingness to grant him a fresh start. Not to forgive him, but to allow him to forgive himself and prove he could learn, that he could become worthy of the god he had always longed to serve.

And as that awareness flowed through him, Vaijon of Almerhas saw at last the link between Tomanak and Bahzell Bahnakson. They were akin, the champion and his god, joined on some deep, profound level which Vaijon glimpsed only faintly even now. It was as if a flicker of Tomanak was inextricably bound up with Bahzell's soul, an indivisible part of him, muted and filtered through the hradani into something mere mortals could trust and follow. Someone in whom they could see a standard to which they might actually aspire, a mirror and an inspiration which shared their own mortality. And that, Vaijon realized suddenly, was what truly made a champion. The dauntless will and stubborn determination which stopped short of his own shallow arrogance-which was almost humble in admitting its limitations yet had the tempered-steel courage of its convictions within those limitations-and the strength to endure an intimacy with the power of godhood few mortals could even imagine. It wasn't anything Bahzell did; it was who and what he was. In that moment Vaijon knew he saw the myriad connections and cross-connections between champion and deity far more clearly than Bahzell himself ever would, and in seeing them, understood why Bahzell greeted Tomanak upon his feet, not his knees, and the profound respect which underlay his apparent insouciance.

'Yes, I think you have learned, Vaijon,' Tomanak told him after a moment. 'It was a hard lesson, but the ones which cut deepest are always hardest, and there is no resentment in your heart.' Vaijon blinked, amazed to realize that was true, and Tomanak smiled at him. 'So you've learned the entire lesson, not just the easy part, my knight. Good!' Another laugh, this one softer and gentler but no less powerful, rumbled through the salle. 'I'm pleased, Vaijon. Perhaps now you'll finally start living up to the potential Charrow always saw within you.'

'I'll try, Lord,' Vaijon said with unwonted humility.

'I'm sure you will… and that you'll backslide from time to time,' Tomanak said. 'But, then, even my champions backslide at times, don't they, Bahzell?'

'A mite, perhaps. Now and then,' Bahzell conceded.

'Hmm.' Tomanak gazed down at his champion for a moment, then nodded. 'It seems to me that Vaijon will need a proper example to keep him from losing any of the ground he's gained,' he observed, 'and having someone to be an example to might just keep you from getting carried away with your own enthusiasm, Bahzell. So perhaps I should entrust Vaijon to your keeping-as your trainee, as it were.'

The hradani stiffened, but Tomanak went on before he could interrupt.

'Yes, I think that would be an excellent idea. He needs some field experience, and you'll be able to use all the help you can get in the next few months. Besides-' the war god grinned at his champion's pained expression '-think how well he and your father will get along!'

'Now just one minute, there!' Bahzell began finally. 'I'm thinking it's the outside of-'

'Oh, hush, Bahzell! Or are you saying the lad doesn't have the potential for it?'

'Well, as to that,' Bahzell said with a glance at Vaijon which the younger man didn't fully understand, 'I'll not say yes and I'll not say no. It's likely enough, when all's said, but-'

'Trust me, Bahzell,' Tomanak soothed. 'It's an excellent idea, even if I do say so myself. And now that that's settled, I'll be going.'

'But-' Bahzell began, and then closed his mouth with a snap as Tomanak vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared. The Horse Stealer glowered at the space the god had occupied for several seconds, then growled something under his breath, unslung his shield, and sheathed his sword. He stood in the center of the salle, arms folded, and then glanced up as the profound and utter silence registered upon him.

Scores of eyes looked back at him, huge with awe. The knights and lay-brothers were still on their knees, even Yorhus and Adiskael, gazing raptly at him, and he twitched his shoulders uncomfortably.

Just like himself to be popping in and out like a cheap candle flame, he thought moodily.

'Not a cheap candle, Bahzell,' a voice chided out of thin air. 'And while you're standing around feeling put upon, don't you think it would be a good idea to heal Vaijon's arms? You did break them, after all.'

Chapter Six

'Don't you get just a little tired of all that?' Brandark asked in a voice just too soft for anyone else to hear, and grinned at the deadly look Bahzell gave him. The two lay-brothers who had stepped aside with bows of profound respect to let the two hradani pass fell behind, and the Horse Stealer leaned close to his friend.

'Aye, I do get a mite worn out with it,' he said equally quietly, 'and I'm thinking as how I'd just as soon be working out my frustrations on someone.'

'Oh? Did you have a specific someone in mind?'

'No, that I didn't… until just now.'

Brandark chuckled but let the opening pass. He was reasonably certain Bahzell was only joking, but the Horse Stealer's exasperation was real, and there were times it was more prudent not to prove or disprove a theory.

The deference the lay-brothers had just shown had become the norm over the last two days, and Bahzell