by Ryan Hughes
Then Sahalik rolled over again-and wound up straddling Jedra, his knees on Jedra's arms. Jedra tried to kick at the elf's head, but the best he could manage was a knee in the back. Sahalik merely leaned forward, and then Jedra couldn't do even that. He tried to punch Sahalik psionically, but without Kayan's help his power was so weak the elf hardly budged.
"You fought better than I expected," Sahalik said. "But you still lost. And there is no prize for second place in battle."
Jedra could barely hear him over the shouting elves, but his meaning was clear enough even so, especially when he leaned still closer and gripped Jedra's neck in his massive right hand.
"Let us see how long you can hold your breath," the elf said, and he began to squeeze.
Jedra felt his throat constricting, first his windpipe and then even the blood supply to his head being squeezed shut. Bright red streamers began to swirl in his vision. He had only a few seconds left before he would lose consciousness, and he could hardly move a muscle to prevent it. His forearms and legs were the only things he could move, but they could not even reach Sahalik, much less do the elf any damage.
Let me help! Kayan's voice in his mind was overlaid with fear for his life.
Her panic, combined with his own, nearly made him accept her offer. Who cared if they blasted this hulk of an elf into bloody gobbets? But Jedra wasn't quite panicked enough to ignore the consequences of that.
No, Jedra told her, but that moment of contact gave him an idea. Their combined psionic power might be too dangerous to use, and his pushing ability was too weak to do much good by itself, but he did have one other talent he could employ on his own....
He focused his thoughts on Sahalik, forging a link with his adversary's mind, then when he saw the elf's eyes bulge with the same panic Jedra felt, he slapped his broken hand hard against the ground.
The pain that shot through his arm felt like molten lava running down the center of the bone. Jedra cried out in agony-but so did Sahalik. And for just an instant as the elf's muscles spasmed with empathic pain, his grip on Jedra's throat relaxed.
That was all the advantage Jedra needed. He heaved his body upward with all his might, overbalancing the elf and sending him over backward. Scrambling free before his opponent could grab him again, Jedra leaped over the fire to give himself a moment to recover his strength.
He had precious little left to recover. He gasped for air, his vision wavering even more than the flames before him, and his muscles all felt as if they were about to fall from his bones. He staggered to the left, struggling just to stay on his feet, but when Sahalik charged around the fire toward him he managed to run a couple of steps, then dodged sideways and stuck out his leg to trip the elf again.
This time Sahalik was ready for him. The elf warrior grabbed Jedra's outstretched leg, yanking it upward hard enough to pull his other leg completely off the ground too. Instead of letting him fall, Sahalik grabbed the other leg and spun around. Jedra felt his hands pass through the flames-once, twice, and a third time as Sahalik spun him around by his feet. He wondered if the elf warrior would throw him into the fire, but it soon became apparent that he had a more humiliating end in mind. Sahalik put all his effort into one more mighty swing, bringing Jedra's outstretched body down low, then releasing him on the upswing to fly completely over the heads of the astonished crowd.
Kay an was the first to his side. She fought through the cheering crowd and knelt beside him. Are you alive? she asked.
Barely, Jedra answered. He groaned as he tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down.
Lie still. Let me heal your injuries before you try to move.
Jedra felt her make deeper contact with his mind. It was still nothing like the total sharing they were capable of, but her healing power required a link sufficient to control his body's healing processes and to transfer some of her own ability to him. Jedra gladly gave over his control to her and let his mind drift wherever she directed it. The pain in his ribs and in his hand slowly faded, and the ache in his throat as well. However, before Kayan could complete the job, the elves turned to see what had become of the vanquished half-elf, and she had to withdraw.
The chief stepped over to Jedra's side and extended a hand to help him up. Jedra looked to Kayan, and she nodded. I think you'll be all right. So Jedra accepted the hand-with his left, since it would be some time before his right hand healed completely-and rose shakily to his feet, Kayan helping to support him on the other side.
"Well fought," the chief said. "And since the tribe rules only that you must fight, not that you must win, I declare you fit to travel with us as far as you like." He nodded to Sahalik, who had stalked over to listen, and said, "By your own actions, you are honor bound to treat him as one of us. See that you do."
Sahalik frowned, then nodded toward Kayan. "What of this one?"
The chief was taken aback. "You cannot mean to challenge her as well?"
"No," Sahalik said. "She is human, and could never be part of the tribe. She will always be an outsider. Outsiders in the tribe must have a protector, and so I claim protectorship over her by right of conquest."
"But I don't claim you," Kayan said.
"You will learn to," Sahalik said, his voice low and menacing.
Kayan asked the chief, "What's this protectorship nonsense? I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself."
The chief hesitated, his sense of decency obviously at war with his sense of self-preservation. He didn't look like a chief at all anymore, just a tired old man who stood to lose his tribe over a stupid squabble. "Sahalik is talking about an old custom," he said, "wherein an outsider lives with a member of the tribe in order to learn our ways. It is not always insisted upon, but since your own safety-and the safety of the tribe-often depends upon your knowledge of desert skills, it can be required."
"Especially in times when the outsider may be with us for some time," Sahalik said. "I would be more comfortable if I knew that this one followed our customs."
"I bet you would," Kayan said with a sneer.
Galar had been standing at the edge of the crowd; now he stepped forward and said, after a nervous gulp, "I will be her protector."
"Not unless you want to challenge me," Sahalik said.
"I-"
"Thanks, Galar," Kayan cut him off before he could get himself into trouble, "but there's no need for that." She looked up at Sahalik, towering over her by at least three feet. "You're just not going to take no for an answer, are you?"
He grinned wickedly. "I am not accustomed to it."
Kayan nodded. "All right then, if you won't leave me alone, let's get this over with." She let go of Jedra and stepped to Sahalik's side.
Jedra nearly fell over, but the chief held him up. "Wha-?" Jedra tried to say, but his throat was still too sore to allow speech. What's this? he demanded psionically. You're actually going to... to... with that barbarian?
Don't get your breechcloth in a knot, she thought back at him. We've tried it your way; now let's try it mine. She reached out and took Sahalik's hairy hand. "Come on, champion, show me this big tent of yours." The elves were totally silent as she led Sahalik away. The only noises Jedra could hear were the scrunch, scrunch, scrunch of their receding footsteps, the soft crackle of the fire, and the pounding of his own heart. Easily visible in the starlight, he could see the elf warrior hold open the flap of his tent for Kayan, and watched her step inside. The tent flap fell down behind Sahalik as he joined her.
For a moment he thought he had screamed, but then he realized that the noise he heard came from another throat. Sahalik's, by the resonance of it, though terror had raised his usual husky pitch an octave or so. His tent suddenly bulged outward as if a herd of mekillots were trying to escape, first on one side, then the other. Finally with a twang of uprooted stays it collapsed backward. The fabric parted with a loud rip, and Sahalik blundered out, only to collide with the very next tent.
It slowed him for barely a moment. Still screeching lik
e a lost child, he trampled right over the hapless tent and continued straight into the night, his cries receding until they were swallowed by the desert.
Another lump in Sahalik's tent wiggled a bit more, and a muffled curse came from it, then Kayan found the door and straightened up through it. Standing there amid the deflated fabric, she planted her hands on her hips and said, "Anybody else think I need a protector?"
* * *
The chief-still supporting Jedra-met her halfway between the fire and the tent. "What did you do to him?" he demanded. The rest of the tribe gathered around, and the expressions on their faces were as grim as his.
Kayan shrugged. "I let him see his true nature. I held a mirror to his mind and showed him what a pathetic creature he is."
"If you have harmed him-"
"I didn't touch him. I didn't do any psychic damage, either. I just gave him something to think about. I guess he decided he wanted to do his thinking alone."
The chief considered for a moment, then turned to the side. "Galar, Ralok, go after him and see that he comes to no harm. Bring him back when he recovers his wits."
Galar and another elf immediately slipped out of the group and ran out into the darkness in the direction Sahalik had gone.
The chief turned back to Kayan. "You were provoked, but your actions may have endangered a member of the tribe. You do need a protector, if only to guard us from you." He laughed, but there was little humor in it. "Since I doubt if anyone else cares to dispute Sahalik for the honor, I will take responsibility for you myself."
Kayan looked as if she were about to protest that, too, but she finally took a deep breath and said, "All right."
The gathered elves murmured their approval at their chief's wisdom and began to disperse. The chief said to Kayan, "First I will show you how to erect Sahalik's tent and the other he knocked down. Then I will show you to your place in mine. You are to stay there when we are in camp, and you will march at my side when we travel. And when Sahalik returns, you will leave him alone."
"Gladly," Kayan said, "as long as he does the same for me."
"I will see that he does."
Jedra weaved outward, and Kayan reached out to steady him. "What of my companion?" she asked.
The chief sighed. "I suppose he should stay in my tent as well. Here, let us walk him there; I don't think he would make it on his own."
Jedra allowed them to drape his arms over their shoulders and carry him to the chief's tent, where they laid him down on a mat at least three times as thick and much softer than the one he'd slept on last night. Or maybe it just felt that way after all his injuries, but whatever the case he felt himself sinking into it, but never remembered hitting bottom.
* * *
He woke to find the tent brightly lit with the first rays of morning sun. The interior glowed with soft, diffused warmth, and the walls rippled gently with the morning breeze. Jedra rose up and rubbed his eyes. The chief lived in luxury compared to the elves in the common tent. Hanging dividers separated the interior into rooms, each open overhead to the roof of the tent. All the panels were decorated with elaborate stitchery or beadwork or painting, and the floor had been covered with thick furs. If the sorcerer-king of Urik were to spend a night in the desert, this was the sort of tent Jedra would expect him to have. His impression of the nomadic elves went up a notch as he took it all in. Kayan lay on a separate mat beside him, still inhaling and exhaling the long, soft breaths of deep sleep. Jedra felt wide awake and perfectly healthy, which no doubt explained Kayan's exhaustion. She had finished healing him during the night.
Psionics didn't require external energy, but that ecological nicety exacted its price on the psionicist. Every time Kayan or Jedra used their powers, it drained their own stamina. With mental contact and other simple skills that drain was hardly significant, but healing someone's injuries required a great deal from the psionicist. Only rest could restore what the healer had lost. Small wonder if Kayan slept until noon-provided the elves would let her. Jedra was surprised they had allowed either of them to sleep in as long as they had; according to Galar they were usually up and moving long before dawn.
He rose quietly and left the tent to see if he could find out what was going on, but the first elves he saw gave him such chilly looks that he didn't ask. He found the community tent and recovered both his and Kayan's knapsacks, leaving their old sleeping mats behind; then he followed his nose to the food tent where he picked up a couple more of the crumbly cakes and filled their waterskins for the day's hike. They hadn't had time for breakfast yesterday, but today nobody seemed in a hurry. Still none of the elves spoke with Jedra-in fact, when they saw him coming they got out of his way. Maybe they're just embarrassed at their behavior last night, Jedra thought. They should have been. Next time Sahalik decided to beat up on someone, Jedra would enjoy shouting "Fight, fight, fight!" as they had done and see how they liked it.
He took the food and knapsacks back to the chief's tent and set them down beside Kayan. He nibbled his cake slowly, watching her sleep. She looked so innocent there, her head resting in the crook of her arm and her face pressed into the mat, her small, round human nose pushed to the side and her straight brown hair falling over her eyes. Jedra let his gaze drift down over her loosely shrouded body. Even through her robe he could see how curvaceous she was. Small wonder Sahalik had been attracted. Jedra was, too, but at least he had the decency to wait for her to return his interest.
Or was it unwillingness to believe that she might actually feel the same way about him? Jedra had grown up on the streets; his home had been a nook in a wall at the end of a dead-end alley. People with his background usually didn't associate with templar women. His and Kayan's time together in a slave pen had brought them both down to the same social level-the very bottom-but it hadn't erased their pasts. Now that they were in the lap of luxury again, Jedra felt completely out of place, while Kayan would no doubt feel right at home.
Actually, considering her former station, she would probably think this was still roughing it. But would she accept it, and Jedra, as part of her new life? He couldn't make himself believe that she would.
There was their age difference to consider, too. Jedra was at least three years younger than Kayan, maybe more. He'd had to grow up fast to make it on his own in the city, but he was still naive about a lot of things that she had probably experienced many times. Did she find that attractive, or would she become bored with him? He didn't know that, either.
The richly appointed tent made Jedra nervous. He got up and went back outside, and this time he stopped the first elf he saw-one of the old women who couldn't get out of his way in time-and asked why the tribe wasn't moving out at dawn.
She peered at him through eyes gone white in patches, but Jedra got the impression she was looking deeper than the surface level anyway. Finally she sniffed and said, "We're waitin' on Sahalik. He's not back yet."
"Oh," Jedra said. He felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. He didn't necessarily want to see the big elf again, but on the other hand, if anything had happened to him, Kayan would be responsible. "How about Galar?" he asked. "Has he returned?"
The woman started to laugh, but it turned into a dry, hacking cough. When she got it under control she said, "Come and gone again, hours ago. The night creatures chased him and Ralok back to camp before they tracked Sahalik more than a mile, but they went back out as soon as it was safe."
"Oh," Jedra said again. No, this wasn't good at all. "Thank you," he told the woman, then he went straight back into the tent.
Kayan was still asleep. "Wake up," he said, shaking her softly by the shoulder. "Kayan, wake up." When she didn't stir, he shook her a bit harder, but she didn't respond.
Kayan, he mindsent. Mmmm? Kayan, wake up. We have to find Sahalik. Mmmm-mmmm. Come on, this is important! He shook her again, but she didn't awaken. He felt the mindlink break,
and when he tried again he couldn't make contact. Evidently Kayan had blocked him out. He didn't e
ven know if she had understood him, or if she was just too much in need of sleep to be roused.
Well, maybe he could do something by himself. He didn't have nearly the control that Kayan had, but he could still make mental contact with people. Much as he hated the idea, maybe he could track down Sahalik and persuade him to return. Or failing that, he might at least be able to find out if the elf was all right.
Jedra tried to orient himself inside the tent. The fire pit was beyond the wall to his right, and Sahalik's tent was behind him and a bit to the right as well. Sahalik had run away from the fire and over another tent, which would mean he had gone more or less directly to Jedra's left. To the east. Jedra sat cross-legged on his sleeping mat facing that direction and closed his eyes so he could concentrate.
The first time he had gone on a psionic voyage, it had felt like he was dreaming. He had found himself face down in a crystal-clear pool of water, a pool so impossibly large he had actually floated in it. Far away at the bottom of the pool had been the desert floor, over which he had drifted like a cloud in a breeze. He tried to recapture that image now, tried to become a cloud, or a bird like the second time he'd gone voyaging with Kayan. Now that he was concentrating on it of course it was harder to do, but the camp was quiet and the tent peaceful enough; eventually he felt his consciousness drift free of his body and begin to rise.
The camp receded below him, the dozen or more sand-colored tents of varying sizes looking more like an outcrop of rock than anything. Puzzled, Jedra swooped down and realized that the camp was a rock outcrop, at least in his psionic vision. The insectlike kanks in their pens beyond the tents had become dung beetles, then metamorphosed into ants as he rose into the sky. Great.
He couldn't count on any correspondence with reality, then. Except for one thing: himself. He was still a half-elf in a light blue robe, seated in midair on a rectangular sleeping mat. He gripped the edges so he wouldn't fall off and directed the mat upward.