Godan swung, his staff and blades whooshing furiously in the air. Rendar leapt back, never losing a bit of his footing, his body evacuating the space his enemy's blade passed through. Rendar took the offensive at once, jabbing the point of his own blade forward. Godan sidestepped to miss Rendar's jab, then swung his own staff down hard. It struck Rendar's staff with a harsh and bone-rattling crack. He leered at Rendar with clenched teeth, a look devoid of mercy. Rendar pulled back his weapon and braced for another assault, his eyes narrowed with absolute focus.
Tess took it all in and tried to put herself in Rendar's place at this moment. In all her dealings with him, she had never seen him as a man capable of wrath, of vindictiveness or hatred. He had battled Godan's tribe not out of malice, but purely for the needs of his own clan. There had never been anything personal in his part against them. Even now, in the face of Godan's intention to cut him down in revenge, Tess knew that Rendar battled with no hate in his heart and that he would not murder Godan in wrath as Godan would surely do to him. If only these two men could talk. If only there were a chance for Rendar to tell Godan how he regretted the fate of Godan's wife, and how he wished for their tribes never to face each other to spill blood again. But from the unrelenting fury on Godan's face, she could see it was a forlorn hope. The only way this could end well would be for Rendar somehow to knock Godan unconscious, emerging as the clear victor. After a decisive but non-fatal victory, their battle would be over forever and both men could get on with their lives.
Please, Rendar, Tess silently called out. Just knock him out. Just one quick, clean knock-out; that's all it will take. Please...
The clash went on. Godan made a swing for Rendar's throat. Rendar lunged backward and swung upward, connecting with Godan's staff and knocking it to one side. Godan made a sound like an animal’s growl and looked for another opening. With no intention of giving him one, Rendar held his weapon in front of him.
Tess tuned out everything else in her surroundings and did not see any of the other Sarmians. Their shouts and call-outs to the dueling foes became an incoherent buzz in her ears. Their shapes and the swinging of their arms and fists in reaction to the battle became a blur of colors at the edge of her sight. And so she did not see one figure, young and dark and limber, separating himself from the throng of Sarmians on Godan's side and circling away, his eyes as fixed on Tess as her eyes were fixed on Rendar and his foe.
With neither one gaining a clear upper hand, Rendar and Godan circled each other, making feints and jabs, lunging forth and pulling back. This standoff, everyone knew and Tess feared, could not last forever. Something would have to break it. One or the other of them sooner or later must have a moment of weakness, of vulnerability, and then...
Godan suddenly lunged and swung his blade broadly downward, aiming his weapon at Rendar's legs. Rendar responded with a leap upward. His foe's weapon sliced cruelly through the place where Rendar's legs had been. Rendar dropped back onto the turf, and in that same instant Godan's blade was at his face. Rendar hurled himself back, having to recover his footing and evade Godan's swing at once. His sudden momentum carried him down onto the grass and onto his back. And now Godan had him.
Tess let out a scream to see Rendar lying prone and Godan leaping forward, his staff raised and aimed right at Rendar's chest. She was sure that death for Rendar was only a second away. As Godan towered over him, Rendar surprised him not with an upward jab of his blade but with a swift, hard kick right to Godan's midsection. With a howl of rage Godan went flying back onto the grass, landing with a muffled thud. Tess cried out again, this time in relief that Rendar's life was spared, if only for the moment. What would he do next?
Godan at once sprang up to his knees, holding up his staff, ready to leap to his feet and have at Rendar again. Rendar pressed his advantage just as quickly. With a long stride forward and a might swing, he sliced his staff blindingly through the air—not at Godan himself, but at the long shaft of his weapon. With a fearsome clatter, Rendar's shaft connected with Godan’s—and knocked the bladed staff from his hands, sending it spinning away onto the grass a couple of meters away.
Rendar now loomed over his weaponless foe. Godan grew as still as when Tess first saw him sitting on the rock. "Let's have an end to this," Rendar said. "I regret that I had to strike down your wife. I feel sorrow for what I did. It was war. Let it be over."
Godan opened his mouth to speak—and the next seconds became a shocking frenzy. Tess suddenly felt hands grabbing her from behind, pulling her back, and her arms being pinned behind her. She felt a hot breath against her cheek—and the point of a dagger pressing itself coldly to her throat. From behind her a young male voice cried in her ear: "Father, no! Don't surrender! Make him surrender! Tell him he must submit—or I'll slay this human!"
All eyes turned in Tess's direction to see her pinned by Konel, his dagger poised at her jugular.
"Konel, no!" bellowed Godan.
"Yes, father!" cried the boy. "Strike him down! Force him to give his life for this female. Avenge Mother!"
In that moment, Tess saw pure horror fall over Rendar's face—and saw him forget the battle and start to lower his blade. If Godan seized this shocking initiative, all would be lost. Tess did not think. She only moved. The next seconds became another frenzy. Tess's booted foot came down hard on Konel's foot. The startled boy wailed in pain and pulled his dagger away. Tess wrenched herself free of his grasp and spun around. Konel recovered and slashed out with his knife. The blade sliced the sleeve of Tess's shirt and just penetrated her skin. In another instant without thought, Tess made a fist and slammed it forward into Konel's stomach. The youth toppled back, gasping, and doubled over on the grass while Tess picked up his knife.
The shock of the moment spread to the battle scene. Godan, seeing what his son had done and likewise Tess's response, roared, "KONEL!" He seized the staff of the distracted Rendar, who whirled back around, suddenly weaponless, to face his foe. He leapt back—too late to miss the edge of one of his own blades slashing across his chest and making a dripping line of blood down his pecs.
Rendar winced at the pain, even as he and Godan both heard Konel choke out a cry of, "Father!" Godan looked beyond Rendar to see his son trying to stagger to his feet near the dagger-wielding Tess. Fighting the pain, Rendar struck out, grabbing the shaft of his weapon and tearing it from Godan's hands. Godan made a sound of incoherent fury as Rendar, wincing, tossed the blade away.
"You fool!" Godan roared, set to lunge for the fallen shaft. But Rendar was quicker in spite of his wound. In the middle of Godan's dive for the ground, Rendar brought his fist to meet Godan's face. Struck in the nose, blood flowing, Godan forgot everything but his hatred and rage. He hurled himself at Rendar with hands extended and seeking Rendar's throat. Rendar swung with his fist again, connecting with Godan's nose a second time. Godan sputtered and staggered back, and Rendar became a storm of flying fists, hitting the bigger Sarmian in the jaw, across the face, in the ribs and stomach.
Under this barrage of punches, Godan refused to give in. He stumbled forward, intent as ever on pounding Rendar into the grass. With one more step... he fell with an ignominious thud at Rendar's feet.
Rendar stood triumphant, but not savoring his victory. His world now was nothing but the throbbing pain of the wound across his chest and the pulsing ache in the fists that had won him the day—and his life. Everyone present at the duel, whether proudly or ruefully, would testify that when the combatants fell, it was Godan who fell first and did not rise again. When Rendar hit the turf, he went down as the clear and decisive winner.
_______________
Konel's rash actions could have cost his tribe dearly. He had interfered in personal combat meant to settle an intertribal dispute. His intervention had compromised his father's honor and the honor of his family and tribe. Rendar would have been within his rights to petition the Capitol for sanctions against Godan's tribe, which could have cost them territory and resources. But Rendar chose
forbearance instead. There had been enough violence, enough bloodshed and wrath and rancor, to last many lifetimes. He had never wanted this battle at all. He only wanted an end to all of it. Rendar and Godan would never be friends. But an end to all of it was what Rendar finally got. Peace descended on the Lotar Valley at last.
The injured Rendar's people returned him to his family's compound in the hills on their side of the valley. The family healers treated his wound with consummate skill, and Rendar was ordered to rest. It was during his recuperation from his battle with Godan that he received a particular visitor.
Once again casually dressed and piloting a floater on her own, Tess made her way through the community of pueblo-like structures set into the hills. She was fascinated by the contrast between the building style, which she associated with desert dwellers in Earth's history, and the temperate, partly forested region where these people lived. This, and the level of technology of the Sarmians, which was a match for present-day Earth, was one of the things that made the Sarmians so interesting. She found it almost as fascinating as the man who occupied the upper floor of the largest building.
As she passed through the village, Tess could not help noticing the way some of the residents stopped to watch her, and muttered things to each other when she went by. Well, it was natural for people to talk about her now, after all. She was no longer just the Earth woman who had brokered the final treaties that sealed peace in the valley. She was now the Earth woman whose life had been threatened to blackmail their leader, which had become a scandal. It was a curious thing for Tess to find herself a figure of scandal. Her life's work had been about smoothing over conflicts and quelling discord. Being talked about in a context like this was a novelty for her. It gave her an uncomfortable tingle at the base of her neck. She looked forward to quieter, less eventful duties on her next assignment.
However, while she was a figure of scandal, most of the ill repute associated with that scandal was directed toward the other side of the valley. On this side she had become a bit of a celebrity, and the passersby who talked about her did so without hostility. Tess had the distinct feeling that they were as intrigued by her as she was by them, and they were nothing but polite as she made her way to the address where their leader lived.
Rendar's chambers differed from any other living space in the area only by how spacious they were. The place was all stone walls and floors with area carpeting, and stone furnishings with plush pillows and cushions. A younger female cousin welcomed Tess inside and directed her to Rendar’s living space on the upper level. His suite was a place of elaborate tapestries and curtains, comfortable chairs and ottomans, and a large stone bed with a thick, soft mattress and ornately patterned sheets. In the middle of the room was a fire pit was set into the floor, and Rendar, clad only in loose-fitting leggings, sat turning the coals with a metal poker. At her entrance he looked up from tending the fire, and the smile on his face at seeing Tess was as bright and warm as the flames.
He stood up, and Tess hoped she did not look as pained as she felt at seeing the sealed and healing wound across his chest. Male beauty such as Rendar's should not be so marred.
"Tess!" he called, welcoming her and holding out his hand.
Tess took his hand and felt the warmth of his greeting. Feeling the strength of his grasp set her misgivings about his injury at ease. "Rendar," she said, "I'm so happy to see you again."
"And I am most pleased to see you, Tess. Especially here and now, when we are not a leader and a diplomat but only two friends."
A new flash of warmth went through Tess at hearing him speak about them this way. She very much liked the idea of being Rendar's friend.
"I'm glad you're looking so well," she said. "That cut looked so awful the last time I saw you."
Smiling, Rendar passed his hand along the sealed wound and showed no discomfort. "I was only cut deep enough to draw blood." His smile diminished somewhat as he added, "Other wounds, I fear, are much deeper. Godan and his boy—the events of the duel will shadow their days for a long time to come. I am sorry for them."
"I think it was generous of you not to take any actions against them for what the boy did," said Tess. "Even after what he did to me—and tried to use my life against you—he was a boy in pain, acting out."
"It is true," Rendar agreed. "His mother is gone, and at my hand. He grieved her loss and feared for his father. To make reprisal against them would only place grief on the shoulders of grief. There has been grief enough, I think." He brushed a thumb over his wound. "We all must now heal. My tribe and Godan's may now live, if not in true peace, then at least without hostility. And Konel's children will have the opportunity to do better than we."
A smile of the deepest admiration lit Tess's face. "You really are a natural leader," she said.
Rendar returned the same look to her. "And you, who acquitted yourself so well under threat—skilled diplomat that you are, might there not be something of the warrior about you after all?"
Tess chuckled and waved off the idea. "Me? Oh, no, thank you. I'll stick to conflict resolution over a bargaining table."
"A setting where you are more than formidable," Rendar grinned.
They admired each other in silence for a moment. And it was a genuine admiration, born of respecting and liking one another as people, of accepting their differences in culture and their common ground as individuals. An admiration of truly liking one another, as they had felt all along. And it was this liking more than anything else that prompted Tess, on a pure impulse, to dismiss their positions as tribal leader and diplomat long enough to put her hands on his bare shoulders, reach her face up to him on tip-toes, and place a very fond kiss on his cheek.
She pulled back from the kiss, startled and dismayed at her impulsiveness as her training in protocol and etiquette came rushing back to her. She took a step back, put her fingers to the lips that had kissed him, and blushed. "I don't know why I did that," she softly said, blushing in tone as much as in face.
Rendar's smile showed not a hint of offense. "Do you not, truly? I think this was a moment long waiting to happen, Tess. You are wise and kind. This moment was meant to be."
"I'm relieved you think so. It seemed like a bit of a breach of boundaries. I wouldn't have been surprised if you asked me to go after that."
Rendar shook his head reassuringly. "I do not wish you to depart. For us there should be no boundaries. I wish you to remain as my personal guest. My most personal and private guest."
Tess's eyes widened and her breath felt hot at the implication. Hesitantly, she asked, "Are you sure?"
Her hot breath turned suddenly cold with surprise at what he did next. With one sure gesture, Rendar took down his leggings and let them rest in a silken heap at his feet, exposing the mighty, muscled pillars of his legs—and the column of quickly hardening flesh under the dark bush of hair between them. And a column it truly was. Veined and foreskinned, it was an erect and throbbing monument to desire.
"I am more than sure," said Rendar. "I would reward your kindness with favors of my own. I have thought much of you, Tess; of your service and your help to my tribe, of the courage and strength you displayed at the duel, of my fondness for you. Will you not have the pleasure of my body and my zazansa? Will you not come to me, and to my bed, and let us taste of one another and let me lie upon you now?"
There was no room for negotiation now. Tess had only one answer to Rendar's nakedness. Her own clothing went the way of any further inhibitions, and they took their mutual nakedness to the inviting softness of Rendar's bed.
It began as all such things must, with the simple delight of discovery in kissing and touching. Sitting up together on their knees on the bed, face to face, body to body, they set their hands and lips free to further the acquaintance of their hearts. Rendar's lips sweetly enfolded Tess's, showing her the tenderness and caring underlying the warrior's strength. His lips and tongue traveled down her neck and over her shoulders, showing her the fondness that
until now he had shown only with words. Touching became a language of its own, a language underlined by the roaming of their hands along one another's bodies. Tess found it delicious that Rendar's hands, so skilled in wielding weapons and pummeling opponents, could be so surprisingly soft. That softness now cupped and squeezed her breasts and teased her nipples, and reached down and around to embrace her bottom with fingers like steel jacketed in velvet.
Only the joy of her own hands on him surpassed the feeling of his on her. The same velvet-coated steel of his hands greeted her touch on Rendar's shoulders and chest. She massaged the muscles of his shoulders, making her fingers tense and release and drawing a heat of pleasure out of him. Then she gave the same service to his pecs, which were like twin continents of flesh covered with fields of hair, and his nipples, like hardened peaks upon the continents. Rendar sucked at Tess's mouth, encouraging her to discover more. Her hands dove far down below to grasp the warrior's club, a weapon designed to strike ecstasy, not punishment, into the body that received it. And a club it was, as thick and massive as it was hard. It strained at her stroking touch like a steed pulling against his reins and ready to gallop. Behind the straining steed lay a large, round, soft carriage containing two passengers bearing a liquid gift meant for Tess alone. She cupped the sac of his briole and gently squeezed it, telling him that she was ready for his gift, every drop that he had to offer.
Rendar let his lips part from hers and broke their embrace, only to lie spread out in all his naked warrior's glory before her. He took his club in hand and made it stand at attention like a soldier before her. "Please suck my zazansa," he requested.
Tess did not hesitate. At once she was down between his legs, her tongue returning his soldier's salute. She licked his piece up and down and swirled her tongue over the head that protruded from the foreskin, and savored the salty taste of the stickiness flowing freely from it. He bucked his crotch into her face and let his erection slide up into her mouth, over her tongue. Tess steadied herself and him with a hand on the hard plates of his abdomen and held his huge length in her mouth, making him give a groan that was like a war-cry of raw sex. At this, Tess began her oral inspection of his soldier in earnest. She slid her mouth up and down over it, showing Rendar with one part of her what she so wanted him to do with another part. His continued groans of increasing pleasure spurred her on. She sucked him deeply, taking the head of his tool all the way back to her throat, and made him writhe on the bed grunting curses of delight in an alien tongue. With every pull and slurp of her mouth, Tess called her mighty warrior to the final battle that yet lay before them.
Highlander's Pride: Winter Solstice (Against All Odds Series 1) Page 57