horses bolted from the scene. One stout rock struck Tamanithas in the shoulder. He shrugged it off and urged his animal forward. The spear carriers parted ranks to avoid being trampled. He rode straight at Nianki, who awaited his charge calmly.
She was unarmed, save for her knife. Her spear she’d left with Kenase. Tamanithas rode with his weapon held high. Just before the horse would have collided with Nianki, she leaped to the side, throwing her right arm and right leg around the horse’s neck. The beast reared and bucked. She held on tightly and drove the heel of her foot into Tamanithas’s chest. His hands flew up, and he slid off the horse.
A swarm of furious men and women descended on the fallen elf. He was kicked and pummeled and dragged to his feet. By the time Nianki managed to get off the spinning, bucking horse, the rest of the elves had withdrawn to the opening, leaving Tamanithas in the hands of the humans.
Sudden quiet fell over the scene. Nianki strode through the crowd and saw the elves had reorganized at the bonfire. On one side, the humans held Tamanithas, bruised and bloody. On the other side, the elves had Neko, kneeling, with a spear to his back. Standing with the elves, unguarded, was Kenase.
“So, you’re with them,” Nianki said, the truth dawning on her.
“I serve the Good People,” Kenase replied. “Let Lord Tamanithas go, and we’ll serve them together, you and I.”
She spat in the dirt. “I serve no one.”
“They’ll kill Neko.”
She stepped out further, planting her hands on her hips. “Listen to me! Tell your people what I say, Tamanithas.” He sullenly agreed. “We will release Tamanithas if you give up Neko and leave this country. If you harm Neko, we’ll kill the elf, hunt you all down, and kill you, every one.” She glanced back at Tamanithas. “Tell them.”
He translated her threat. The elves drew closer together. There was some conferring among those on horseback. At last, one gave a command, and Neko was prodded to his feet. He limped across the open ground to stand by Nianki.
“Let him go,” she said to the people holding Tamanithas. There was some growling from the crowd, but they relinquished their hostage. With as much dignity as his battered appearance could support, Tamanithas rejoined his people.
“Depart now,” Nianki said. “You’ll be followed until you leave the plain. If you try to come back, everyone in your band will be slain.”
Tamanithas’s horse was sent to the waiting elves. The former hostage mounted and rode out in front of the wary spear carriers.
“This is not over,” he vowed. “This land will belong to my lord Silvanos.”
“Land belongs to the spirits, not to those who live on it,” said Nianki, “but we’ll not be driven from our hunting grounds. The plainsmen will know of your deeds, and how we turned you back. If you return, we’ll be waiting for you.”
The humans raised a cheer. Stung by her declaration, the elves formed ranks and started marching away. Then only the mounted elves were left with Kenase standing between them. He looked at Nianki fearfully and reached up to clasp the mane of Tamanithas’s horse.
“Take me with you, great one!” Kenase said. “I can still serve you!”
“Begone, wretch. You would lick the hand of whoever feeds you.” Tamanithas pulled his animal free. With a single cry, he kicked his horse to a gallop. The other riders were close behind him.
Kenase was quickly ringed by vengeful hunters.
“You led my family to the Good People!” Curly Beard cried, punching Kenase on the jaw with his fist. Others echoed his accusation. Kenase was hauled to his feet only to be beaten down again. Nianki watched silently until Neko appeared at her side. He handed her the short-shafted spear.
“Thank you,” she said. The ring of betrayed hunters parted for her. Her face was as hard as her voice when she spoke to Kenase. “I fed you. I gave you meat. You lied to me.”
“I did it for all of us!” he exclaimed. “The Good People are wise and great! They can bring many wonders to us, wonders of comfort and ease!”
“Like this?” Nianki said, yanking at the cold collar at her throat. “Wonders like starvation and slavery?”
“The collars come off!” Kenase edged away from Nianki, toward the interior of the camp. “There is a tool that makes them come off.”
The plainsfolk allowed him to ransack the bedding left behind by the elves. He found a large bright ring made of the same hard, smooth substance as the collars. “Bronze,” Kenase called it. It was “metal,” he said.
A curious worked rod of metal hung on the ring. Kenase pushed one end of the rod in the hole in Nianki’s collar and twisted. The collar popped open and fell to the ground. With a roar, the crowd surged over Kenase and the rod was torn from his grasp. The camp resounded with cheers as collar after collar was removed.
Curly Beard, who said his name was Targun, asked Nianki what should be done with Kenase, who was cowering as he awaited his fate.
“Why ask me?” she replied, still rubbing her neck. Her skin was peeling from days of chafing.
“He betrayed us,” Targun said, “but you saved us. Decide his fate. It will be done as you say.”
Heavy silence fell over the camp, broken only by the crackle of the dying bonfire. Nianki cast a cold eye over the boy. He was crying now. His weakness disgusted her.
“Turn him out,” she said at last. “Let him fend for himself. Tell the story far and wide so that no plainsman lends him food or comfort. If he lacks for anything, let him seek his masters in the forest.”
Targun and the others man-handled Kenase to the path taken by the elves. Head bowed, the whimpering boy shuffled away, terrified of exile but relieved to be alive.
Someone pushed Nianki aside and jerked the spear from her hand. He ran forward a few steps and cast the short spear at the retreating Kenase. It struck him in the small of the back. He uttered a cry and fell facedown in the dirt.
The spear-thrower faced Nianki. It was Neko.
“Why?” Nianki demanded.
“Kenase led the Good People to my family,” said the boy. “They killed my brother because he wouldn’t submit to capture.”
Nianki removed the spear and rolled the dead boy over. She closed his eyes and wiped the spear head on the grass.
“It is done,” Targun said solemnly. “Let no more blood be shed.”
The plainsmen drifted away, eager to put distance between themselves and the elf camp. Most of the families were gone by the time the red moon appeared over the horizon. A few remained, Targun’s among them.
Nianki poked among the elves’ abandoned gear. She found a bronze dagger in a wooden chest and slipped it in her waistband. While she was rummaging, she noticed the remaining men, women, and children were watching her.
“I’ll not take everything,” she assured them. “Get what you want.”
“No,” said Targun. “We’re waiting for you.” She stared at him blankly. “We want to follow you.”
“I don’t seek a mate,” she said flatly.
“That’s not what I mean.” Targun gestured, and a short, smiling woman of ample proportions led four children to stand at his side. He obviously had no need of a mate. He said, “You bested the Good People and saved us all. There is a power in your presence, like the nearness of a panther. The spirits are in you, and we want to follow you.”
“Let the spirits who protect you protect us as well,” added Targun’s mate.
Bewildered, Nianki was about to tell them they were all crazy, when she spotted Neko sitting on a stump near the fire. He looked numb, vacant. Though she’d never killed a man, she had seen that dazed reaction in others.
“What about you, Neko?” she called.
Slowly he looked up at her. “I’ve no blood kin left. I follow you.”
Many pairs of eyes stared hopefully at her. As she looked around at the expectant faces and considered what was being asked of her, Nianki was reminded how they had defeated the better-armed, supposedly more powerful
