by Sharon Green
When Fallan woke me in the morning, the first thing I remembered was how much I hated him. He was in a great mood, undoubtedly due to the fun and games of the previous night, and that made me hate him even more. He'd dared to punish me and humiliate me, and then he'd given me the ultimate insult. I'd never forget, not any of it, and the first chance I got I'd fix him good.
Fallan took a nap later that day, and I spent the time exercising hard. My strength was quickly coming back and the stiffness was leaving me, and as soon as I could I'd be out of here and on my way to where I had to go. I hated it here with Fallan as much as I hated him, and I had to get out of here before I went crazy.
Fallan continued to insist that I stay in bed, and even went so far as to start toward me when I told him that I didn't want to. I jumped down under the blanket and pulled it over my head, and after a few minutes when I took the blanket away he was gone. I was furious then at the way he'd bluffed me, making me think he was going to spank me again, and after that I worked even harder to get back into shape.
It was late in the afternoon of the third day after that when Fallan left the house. I didn't know where he was going, but I waited a minute after I heard the door close, then hurried to the window of my room. Fallan was walking away from our house farther into the village, and it didn't much matter where he was going. He would surely be gone long enough for me to get dressed and get out of here, and that was all that did matter.
I went to the wardrobe and opened it wide, hearing the loud screech of protesting parts that had kept me away from it sooner, and was pleased to see my clothes draped over wooden pegs. They were really a mess, filthy, mud-covered and stiff with dried blood, but they had the benefit of being much less conspicuous than a nightshirt. I pulled the clothes off their pegs and bent to the bottom of the wardrobe to look for my boots - and stopped still just to stare for a minute.
On the floor of the wardrobe, just behind my boots and almost invisible, lay the sword I'd found so much use for, sheath and all. I'd never expected to see it again, and I suddenly remembered that I hadn't cleaned it properly. I stared for another moment, then abruptly pulled out the boots and sword and carried all I'd found to the bed so I could dress.
With my boots tied and the sword belted around my middle, I left the bedroom to do a little exploring. The other room of the house turned out to be surprisingly neat over the layers of ancient dirt and use. Aside from the hearth and fire, there was a plain wooden table and four straight-backed chairs, a couple of familiar blankets spread on the floor not far from the fire, and a paired set of leather pouches near the blankets. A piece of bright red stuck out from the top of one of the pouches, showing what had happened to Fallan's uniform shirt.
It wasn't far from being full dark out, and I intended to use the door to the outside, but not as quickly as I'd first thought. Finding my sword had changed things, and I would have some words with Fallan before I left. The thought added pleasure to the sudden golden haze around me, and I smiled as I went back into the bedroom, closed the door, and sat down on the bed to wait.
Fallan took his time getting back, but eventually I heard the sound of the front door opening. I sat up on the bed then got to my feet, and the small wall lamp let me reach the door before my shadow. I grasped the doorknob firmly, intending to yank it open - but it refused to move! The door that had opened so easily just a short time earlier now felt nailed shut, but it wasn't stuck.
I used two hands on the knob, trying to rattle it, trying to shake the door in its frame, but nothing moved. It was like trying to rattle or shake a tree, and in fury I raised my fist to bang on the door - then stopped short of hitting it as a cold thought came to me.
This was a Paldovar Village, a place where no one could harm anyone else. What would the Paldovar do if I continued to try reaching Fallan? The golden haze had thinned to flickering around me, and I wanted to get to Fallan so badly I could feel it as a hunger, but I was in no position to play deep games with the natives of this village. It was hard leaving Fallan to the arrogance of his ways, but that was better than getting more deeply involved in a place well left far behind me. As I moved to the window and threw it open, I almost had myself believing that.
The night was cool but without wind, and I took my time saddling my vair, hoping I might be discovered. It was a small surprise that my vair stood right next to Fallan's in the lean-to, but he must have found the vair near the inn after finding me inside. My vair snorted softly as I mounted, and I looked at the small house one last time before riding away toward the south. I knew there was a reason why I had to ride south, but it took a minute before I remembered. Pick-up, I was riding to pick-up, and after I made pick-up I could relax.
I rode through the woods all night, changing the vair's pace now and then to give us both a rest, and made sure to stay away from any bodies of water. The night was relaxed and quiet, and I rode on in the middle of chirping and occasional roars, bathed by the light of the larger moon. Dameron's hidey-hole was floating above me again, and sight of it forced me to ask the question I'd been avoiding so long. I was alone and heading south and had been doing it for hours; why the hell hadn't a scout ship come for me?
Dawn was already streaking the sky with gorgeous colors when I finally decided to stop for a rest. I was no more tired than I expected to be, but I'd been ignoring a headache for hours and I didn't want it to start pounding on my eyeballs for attention. I dismounted stiffly and tied the vair where he could reach some grass, then sat down a short distance away with my back to a tree.
I'd stopped at the edge of a small clearing, and although it was damp with dew it was also pretty and quiet. I closed my eyes and relaxed all over, emptying my mind of all thought. The headache throbbed with my pulse, but the more I relaxed and regulated my breathing, the more the pain eased and faded, becoming lighter and fainter with every indrawn breath.
The headache was just about all gone when a snapping twig and high-pitched whicker brought me abruptly back to myself, and I was on my feet with sword in hand before I really knew which direction the sound had come from.
Talk about your bad pennies! There, not five feet away from me, Fallan sat on his vair, still wearing that green shirt, still giving me that dark-eyed stare I'd had so much of in the past few days. There was a great surge of elation in me, accompanied by the sudden presence of the golden haze, and I grinned as I tightened my grip on the sword. We weren't in a Paldovar Village any longer!
Fallan looked me over carefully, then rested his arm on the pommel of his saddle.
"You seem pleased with some matter," he observed, keeping his tone neutral. "Might I know the reason for your pleasure?"
"Certainly," I answered, not even trying to keep the delight out of my voice. "I have just been given a gift I had thought beyond my reach forever."
"In all modesty, I presume you mean me," he murmured with a nod, dismounting and letting go of his vair's reins. "However, before you begin something we will both undoubtedly regret, I suggest you listen to what I have to say."
There was something strange about the way he was speaking but the golden haze convinced me that it wasn't worth noticing. I shook my head, still wrapped up in the pleasure of a grin.
"I will listen to no more of the Fallan Beliefs on proper obedience," I told him, then felt the grin slipping away from me as the sword flicked around in my hand. "Defend yourself or be cut down where you stand!"
The mercenary continued to stare for a moment, but I was already moving toward him, giving him no choice but to face me. He left his vair and moved farther into the clearing, then slowly drew his sword. He didn't seem to want to face me, but he showed no fear and no doubt, undoubtedly thinking that a man of his size and training would have no trouble at all with a young female like me. I couldn't wait to show him how wrong he was.
Fallan held his sword at the ready, but it was hardly a decent en garde position. He was prepared to counter the swipes and round-house swings Tildorani seemed so pa
rtial to, but he was wide open to a slip and glide. I feinted toward him in a backswing, curious to see if he would notice the opening, but he never even twitched in my direction.
He brought his weapon up to meet the move, obviously intending to stop it with sheer muscle, and blinked off balance when our blades didn't meet. I'd switched fast to slide under his blade, and my point was right near his ribs, well past his guard. I'd wanted to show him how open and vulnerable he was when he faced me with weapons, that and nothing more, but the golden haze glittered around me, whispering a reminder of what he'd done to me, how terribly he'd humiliated me.
The hatred I felt for him pounded in my head and made it whirl, and then I had pushed my point a full inch into his side, pulling it free covered with the blood that was meant to be spilled. The mercenary's face twisted as the pain came to him, but I was well pleased with what I had done, and was already out of reach of the fool's blade.
The sight that greeted the sun's full light was one that really pleased me. Fallan stumbled around the clearing, touched dozens of places with streaks and smears of his own blood, his arm tired from the wasted effort toward defense, his face a mask of silent agony.
Over and over again he'd tried for a better defense and had even tried attack, but his attacks had found me already moved elsewhere and his defense had shown itself to be a mass of gaping holes. I hadn't taken his life yet, and wouldn't until he threw down his blade and begged for his life. Then I'd show him the exact same mercy he'd shown to me!
I was so intent on the target I was playing with that I heard nothing of the forest noises around us. Fallan's sweating face swam before me, his eyes locked to my arm and blade, and then his gaze went up and past me, widening at whatever he saw behind my back. Or was trying to make me think he saw. That trick was so old I would have been an idiot to fall for it, but as I raised my point again I saw that he had dropped his guard completely and was still staring behind me. He had also stopped backing away, and then he did something that shocked me. He twisted the blade in his hand, holding it as though it were a spear, then hurled it past me with a shout of, "Look out, Diana!"
The golden haze flickered and died as I whirled around, having no time at all to see the barbarian with Fallan's sword in him go down; there were too many other barbarians still on their feet to worry about. Lord only knows where they'd come from, but they were suddenly all around, screaming and swinging away with an abandon that made everyone else I'd seen look reserved and dignified. I defended myself for the first few seconds of adjustment, then began eliminating opponents before I was eliminated.
I'd accounted for a respectable number of barbarians before it came to me that I wasn't fighting alone. Strangely enough, some of the barbarians seemed to be fighting on my side. I'd just come to the conclusion that I'd blundered into the middle of some intertribal rivalry when I spotted something that cleared away the strangeness.
Over the heads of the screaming, sweating barbarians nearest me, I saw the familiar features of the giant Leandor, head of Dameron's special section. I blocked a thrust from a determined barbarian and riposted cleanly, then paid attention to staying alive now that I'd finally reached my contact back to where I'd come from.
It took many more frantic minutes before Leandor and his people were able to push the real barbarians farther away into the trees. I took a deep breath of relief at finally being in the clear, stretched my aching arm and back muscles, then turned to look at "the mercenary Fallan." One of the barbarians had opened his thigh with a quick jab before I'd finished her, and the wound had obviously been the last of too many. The man lay sprawled on the ground unconscious, still alive but not doing very well.
I felt the very long night and morning in every muscle and bone of my body, and squatted down close to stare at the face I'd learned to know so well. He'd shouted my name just before the barbarians had hit, and there was only one way for him to have known my name. I stared at the pale, drawn face that was still covered with the sweat of pain, and wondered which of Dameron's people he was.
Five minutes later there was the sound of hurrying footsteps and I stood straight fast, glad I hadn't resheathed my sword, but it was only Leandor, coming back alone. He still had his reddened sword in his fist, but I was suddenly too tired to hang onto mine, so I wiped most of the blood off on the skirt of my riding dress and resheathed the blade before walking a few steps in his direction.
"Girl, am I glad to see you!" he called as he got closer. "Up to a few minutes ago, we all thought you'd had it permanently!"
"Why would you think that?" I frowned, looking up at him as he stopped in front of me.
"When somebody's beacon goes off it usually means they've gone with it," he answered with a grin, his gaze moving all over me. "You seem to be one of the few exceptions to the rule. What did you run into?"
"Nothing much to speak of," I muttered, holding down the rage that wanted to flame out at anything handy. If my beacon had gone out as Leandor said, it was a fairly safe bet the thing had been planted in my side, in the spot I currently had a half-healed gouge. If Leandor hadn't come along I would have waited for a pick-up until I died of old age! I picked out a few choice words to say to Dameron's medics and put them aside, then looked back up at Leandor. "How are you fixed for a first-aid kit?" I asked, moving my head around to nod at Fallan.
Leandor followed my gaze and lost his grin, then moved past me to the unconscious ex-mercenary.
"How bad is he?" he asked, bending down to see for himself without waiting for an answer. It was obvious Fallan wasn't good, so I shrugged at Leandor's back.
"If he's faking, he's doing a good job of it," I commented. "He's lost enough blood to put him on anyone's critical list, and I'm fresh out of bandages. How fast can you get him back to base?"
"We can't get either one of you back before dark, but I can give him a transfusion at my camp," Leandor said without looking up. "The camp isn't far and it'll give us all the privacy we need."
He wrestled Fallan off the ground and over his shoulder, then started off in the direction all the barbarians seemed to have come from. I collected my vair and Fallan's and followed, but it wasn't long before I mounted my vair, finding it easier to follow Leandor when I didn't have to match his stride.
Leandor continued on through the trees, and before long we came to a larger clearing than the one I'd stopped at. There were tents pitched all over the clearing, and some of Leandor's team was still there, relaxing only a little when Leandor nodded at them before disappearing inside one of the tents. I just sat on my vair and slumped over its neck, feeling the soreness in my left side for the first time in days.
I'd probably still be in the same spot if one of Leandor's team men hadn't come over to offer me a place to wait and something to eat. I half fell off the vair and plodded after the team member, and the tent I was led to was more inviting than many palaces I'd seen.
Once inside the tent, I was able to collapse in peace. The thing was surprisingly spacious, with blanket-like hangings on the skin walls, furs on the floor as carpeting, and a large fire burning in a deep hole in the middle of the floor, all of it fitting in very well with the "barbarian's" clothing.
The men wore long, loose trousers in assorted colors, the legs of the trousers being tied tight around their ankles with leather, and the women had brief, vest-like halters to add to that. Both wore knives and swordbelts around their waists and both were barefoot, not needing boots for their saddleless vair.
I picked a spot on the furs near the fire to stretch out on, and didn't move until the food came. The meal was no more than grilled steak from some animal or other and a bowl of barbarian beer called gannas, but to me it tasted like the next thing to ambrosia. I swallowed it all, then leaned back to relax again.
I was happily digesting what had gone down my throat when Leandor came in. He carried his own bowl of gannas, but waited until he was sitting near me before swallowing at the drink.
"Just what I needed," he c
ommented after lowering the bowl. "Sometimes this stuff is better for what ails you than anything the clinicians have."
"How's your patient?" I asked, rolling onto my side in order to see him more easily. He swallowed at the gannas again, and waved a hand around.
"Oh, he'll be fine," he assured me. "Nothing too badly wrong with him, and the transfusion will do the job until we can get him back to base."
"Glad to hear that," I said with a nod, keeping my eyes on him. "Now for the next question: who the hell is he?"
Leandor's eyebrows rose, and he forgot about the bowl in his hands.
"What do you mean, who is he?" he demanded. "Didn't he tell you? And what kind of game were you two playing when we got there?"
"He didn't tell me anything, and it was no game," I growled, holding his gaze. "And if you start beating around the bush we'll see how long it takes me to pull this tent down around your ears."
I hadn't raised my voice, but there was no longer a reason to swallow whatever annoyance I felt. Leandor looked surprised again, then raised a hand in a calming gesture.
"Just take it easy," he soothed, a frown beginning to crease his forehead. "Nobody's beating around the bush. I don't know why he didn't tell you, but there's nothing secret involved. Granted, Valdon hasn't been in the field for a while - "
"Valdon!" I exploded, sitting up straight. "The man's a damned fool! How could Dameron send him?"
"There wasn't much choice." Leandor shrugged, but it was fairly clear that he wasn't very pleased with my reaction. "We got the chance to substitute one of our own for the real Fallan at the last minute, and Valdon grabbed the privilege. He is second in command, and doesn't usually abuse the position. When he insisted, Dameron gave in. I got back yesterday, and we were following his beacon for a pick-up when that tribe of barbarians jumped us. We didn't mean to drive them straight toward you, but we didn't have much choice about it."