Writers of the Future 32 Science Fiction & Fantasy Anthology

by L. Ron Hubbard

  Different how?

  How should I know? the bear asked. He is different. Dangerous.

  Yvina watched her feet. One tricky place to get past and then she’d cross the shallows. Her pursuer was gaining on her. She cleared the last knot of rocks and splashed up the bank.

  She longed to collapse to the grass and catch her breath. Instead she turned. The man stood at the edge of the water, swords in hand. The bottom half of his pants were soaked. There were dark lines of soot-black paint on his bare chest. Methlan war-markings. All the warriors put them on when going into battle. They gave the warriors strength and speed, like the bear did. Though far inferior to the bear, or she wouldn’t have been able to kill the four so easily.

  “Why did you send the others away?” she asked. “You want the glory yourself? You’ll take my head back to Khan Sihkun and he’ll reward you for it?”

  “I wouldn’t bring Khan Sihkun a waterskin full of mare’s piss,” the man said, coming further inland. He was a little older and six inches taller than she was, and carried himself with a cat’s assurance. Unlike the men before, his ears were unpierced, and he wore simple clothes without colorful sashes. “I wanted to meet you, and those fools were in my way. I told them to leave or I’d kill them.”

  “You?” Yvina raised an eyebrow. “By yourself?”

  “You killed four,” he said.

  “I am an Aradori warrior,” she said proudly. “Daughter of kings, sister of bears.”

  “I know,” the man said. “Or at least, I know what you call yourself. What you truly are . . . now that I’d like to see.”

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want?”

  The man gave her half a bow, his stomach muscles tightening, an insolent smile playing on his lips. His brown eyes echoed the same amusement. “I am Mahkah,” he said. “And I want you, lady.”

  She raised her swords. How dare he speak to her like that? “Never.” She should have been afraid, not annoyed. But his tone seemed playful, and her bear felt amused.

  He shrugged. “Then I must prove myself to you? Very well.” He raised his swords. Yvina set herself.

  Mahkah took two steps toward her. He was shorter than most Aradori men, and not as broad-shouldered, but his arms were cords of muscle and his abdomen tight. He held the short sword high in his left hand. The long sword he kept low near his hips.

  She’d seen Methlan men fighting duels a few times when she’d managed to convince her brother and whatever clan was nearby to talk instead of just fight. But she’d never fought with two swords before. She wondered if she should just drop the short blade and use two hands on the longer sword.

  Mahkah cocked his head. “What is it?”

  She let the short sword slip from her fingers. “If you have any honor at all, you’ll match me,” she said. “Or will you make me use a style I don’t know?”

  “I said I would prove myself.” Mahkah put down his short sword. “Now, lady who rides with the storm, we will dance.” He raised his sword in salute, then closed on her.

  Yvina’s blade caught his. She pushed, but his arms were longer, and he had weight on her. Mahkah broke away.

  She’d have to beat him with speed. We must win this quickly, brother bear, she said. There would be no wearing this foe down. She would win fast or not at all.

  Yvina whirled in, trying to strike under his guard, but Mahkah was there. He parried her blow and pushed her back.

  Her foot slid in the too-large shoe and nearly tripped her. Cursing, Yvina leaped back, getting a few feet away.

  Mahkah watched her. She ripped the shoes off her feet and cast them aside.

  “Ready?” Mahkah asked.

  Yvina swore at him in three different languages. He stood impassive. She called her bear, and strength flooded her again. Suddenly she wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t taunting her; he was honoring a worthy foe.

  Damnation, here was a half-naked Methlan barbarian showing her more respect than her brother ever had.

  Yvina screamed and hurled herself forward. Mahkah came to meet her. At the last second she twisted sideways.

  Mahkah reacted quickly, but his blade missed hers. Her sword-tip grazed his bare shoulder. A thin line of blood oozed from his skin, red on golden-brown. She grinned. First blood, and from the way he’d moved, he wasn’t used to fighting with one sword. If he’d had the short blade in his left hand, he’d have blocked that attack.

  They drew apart, and together, and apart again. Once Mahkah’s blade caught Yvina’s shift low down and ripped through it. She ignored it. She’d fight naked if she must.

  Her feet ached. She held her own, but couldn’t much longer. Worse, he was playing with her. She could see it in the tiny smile on his lips, the ironic way he raised his eyebrows after a good pass. He could have finished this three times already, and yet here they were. Why?

  Let him play. She’d wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. Yvina shifted her weight. She wrapped her sweaty hands tighter around her sword. Give me everything, she told the bear. Everything we have left.

  I hope you know what you’re doing, the bear said. It shuddered. Yvina wrapped the bear’s strength around herself like armor, filling her arms and legs. The world sharpened. She could see every blade of grass, hear birds quarreling a half mile away. She pulled everything in, and threw herself forward.

  Mahkah’s eyes had time to widen before she reached him. Her blow drove him back two steps. They struggled, nearly at the river’s edge. Mahkah’s foot slid on a rock, and he went to one knee. One hand slipped from his sword. She had him.

  He reached up, faster than she could respond, and grabbed her wrist. He pulled, hard, and her sword flew out of her hands as she fell against him. Mahkah caught her before she hit the ground. His hands steadied and pushed her up. She rocked back on her feet. Mahkah let go and rose.

  Her sword lay five feet away, glinting at her from the river. Mahkah’s sword dangled from his hand. They stared at each other. Yvina’s chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. Brother bear? she called. No response came. It might be hours before the bear could return. Too late for her.

  Mahkah set his sword aside. He spread his arms and bowed. “Lady Yvina,” he said, “you have shown me wonders.”

  Yvina stared. Her shift was still damp from her earlier river-crossing. Its torn cloth clung to her chest and rode up on her mud-splattered legs. Her feet stung with a dozen tiny abrasions. She lacked a weapon, and the bear was gone.

  Maybe she could get the knife from Mahkah’s belt. Not likely. She looked away, shoulders slumping in defeat. “My brother’s army is coming,” she said. “None of you will escape. Kill me, kill Aradon, and they will hunt you down and wipe you out.” She shook her head, trying to hold back tears of anger and frustration. None of this should have happened. Three days ago they’d been on the verge of an alliance, one she’d worked so hard to craft. Now this.

  “I have no intention of letting my kinsmen kill your brother,” Mahkah said. “How far back is your army?”

  She looked up sharply. This wasn’t what she’d expected. “I don’t know. If they learned of our capture quickly, they might be only a few miles from here.”

  “Oh?” Mahkah asked.

  “We were negotiating with Sihkun when he sprang his trap. I escaped; so did two others. They may have reached my brother’s army, or they may be dead. Either way, by now the army will know something is amiss and be on the move. Aradon left orders.”

  “They will not come in time,” Mahkah said. “Sihkun’s band will reach the conclave at Kharakor in three days. The clans are assembled there already, waiting for him. He will speak with the grandmothers; he will kill your brother and proclaim himself khan-of-khans — unless we arrive in time.”

  “Why do you care?” Yvina asked. All her frustration boiled up at once, and poured sizzling onto the a
shes of her anger. “What do you want? Who are you?”

  “Let’s catch one of the loose horses for you,” Mahkah suggested after the tiniest pause, “while we talk.”

  That made sense. Mahkah went to the river and retrieved her sword. He approached her, holding it out hilt-first. She accepted it and wiped the blade. Having it in her hand made her feel a little better.

  She kept a wary eye on him as they picked their way back across the river. Mahkah offered her a hand across the roughest stretch. She ignored it. Her shift had just begun to dry; now it was soaked again. She shivered as they climbed the shore. It was a warm day but the cold linen pressed against her.

  Mahkah half smiled as he watched her. “That garment you wear is worse than useless,” he said. “You’d be more comfortable with nothing. But as I expect you will take offense at that suggestion, let me see if I can help you.” He went to his horse, which had grazed a short distance along the riverbank, and rifled through one of the bags behind his saddle. “Here,” he said, returning to her with two cloth garments in his hands.

  They turned out to be a loose blouse, bright red with golden threads working designs throughout, and a pair of woven wool pants, both clearly made for a woman. Yvina eyed them suspiciously. “What are these?” They did not appear to have been previously worn.

  He shrugged. “A wise man is always prepared,” he said.

  Yvina thought about refusing, but that was stupid. “Turn away,” she ordered, and Mahkah did. Interesting, but she wouldn’t let her guard down. She shimmied into the trousers, then ripped off the ruins of her shift. Yvina balled the shift up to throw aside in disgust, then hesitated, unwound it, and used the fabric to bind her chest. She held back a hiss of breath as the cold cloth chilled her skin, but she’d feel more comfortable riding this way. Then she pulled the Methlan blouse over. The neckline plunged down farther than she liked, making her double glad she had wrapped her breasts. “All right,” she said, and Mahkah turned around.

  She heard his sudden intake of breath. “Those suit you, lady,” he said. His tone was mild, so why did Yvina’s heart suddenly race?

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “We catch you a horse,” Mahkah said. “And then you ride where you will. Back to your brother’s army, if you wish.”

  “Where else would I want to go?” Yvina asked.

  “I ride for Kharakor, and I want you to ride with me,” Mahkah said. Yvina started to protest but he kept talking.

  “I intend to stop Sihkun from killing your brother. Not because I have any love for Aradon Stormborn, but because I will not see Sihkun become khan-of-khans. One way or the other that will not happen. You wanted an alliance between our people, did you not?”

  Yvina blinked. “How do you know?” She’d spent hours arguing that point with her brother and his generals. Aradon had insisted that the Methlan had nothing to offer, that all the Aradori needed was to negotiate safe passage across the steppes. Yvina felt certain there could be cooperation with the Methlan. When Sihkun offered to negotiate, she had hoped it would lead to more.

  “I met your envoy,” Mahkah said.

  “Ikkayana?” A rush of excitement filled Yvina. “She got through?”

  Mahkah’s lips quirked. He took a coil of rope from his saddle and nodded. “Come.”

  Yvina followed Mahkah along the riverbank toward the stray horses. One was still saddled and bridled. It looked up as they approached, whinnied, and moved off. “Is Ikkayana all right?” Yvina asked.

  “How did you come to have a Methlan servant girl?” Mahkah asked.

  “I bought her freedom from a slaver four years ago,” Yvina said. It had become obvious that the Methlan were key to crossing the great steppes, or being stopped at the edge. “I wanted to learn your language and customs.”

  “She said you treated her well. No beatings, and you kept her free from unkind attentions.”

  “Aradori do not keep slaves,” Yvina said as they strolled closer to the stray horse. “And I will not see anyone in my care mistreated. She became my dear friend.”

  “She spoke well of you,” Mahkah said. He uncoiled the rope, made a loop at the end.

  Had Ikkayana’s message reached its target? Even if Mahkah might know the answer, Yvina didn’t want to ask him. Mahkah held the rope in both hands, playing it out. He raised it high, whirling it until she could barely see the motion, and then tossed. The loop sailed through the air and landed on the horse’s neck. The horse started, and Mahkah twitched the rope. The loop closed tight around the horse. Mahkah approached slowly, making soothing noises. He took hold of the bridle and stroked the horse’s nose, speaking softly to it. After a moment he removed the lasso and led the horse to Yvina. “He will serve you now,” Mahkah said gravely. “I told him that you defeated his master in fair combat.”

  Yvina took the reins. She hesitated. “Can we really stop Khan Sihkun?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “It seems worth the attempt.”

  Yvina sheathed her sword in the saddle’s scabbard. The saddle held a bow, too, and full saddlebags. She put her foot into the stirrup and swung up onto the horse. With a horse between her legs and weapons at hand, even if there was more pursuit, she would be able to make it back to the army.

  She peered north along the river. One of the stray horses grazed along the bank, picking its way through the rocks and scrubby bushes. No sign of the Methlan, of course. They’d be a full day’s ride ahead by now. “Damn Sihkun,” she said. “I’ve spent twenty years protecting my little brother and I’m not going to give up now. I’ll ride with you.”

  They turned away from the river a little after noon. The grasslands spread out around them, tan and brown in every direction. Cloudless blue sky stretched like a taut canvas. Yvina had thought of the steppes as empty. Now she saw the rabbits and ground squirrels poking out of burrows to watch their passing. Overhead, hawks soared. The land rose and fell gently. Knots of scrubby trees indicated waterholes. A whole line of deeper green marked a stream, or at least a place where there would be water after a rain, or so Mahkah said. They crossed a wide swath of land where a herd had grazed recently, eating the most succulent shoots from the tough clumps of grasses and moving on under the care of their Methlan tenders. Her bear occasionally sharpened her nose for her, letting her smell all the life around them. This is a good place, the bear said. A strange place but a good one. Not hemmed in like the coasts. I like the feel of sky above us.

  Mahkah rode close to her, like a guide, not a captor. He occasionally pointed out features, but for the most part allowed her to appreciate the steppes herself. Near dusk, she spotted smoke rising near a clump of trees a few miles off, and round yurts dotting the plain. “Is that them?”

  Mahkah shook his head. “Stragglers heading for Kharakor. Our quarry passed through hours ago. We would see more signs of my people ordinarily. Right now, most of us are at the bluffs waiting for Sihkun.”

  “I don’t understand what he’s trying to do,” Yvina said. “I thought . . . you have not had a khan-of-khans for some time, but Ikkayana told me the last khan-of-khans had a son. Prince Kharil. That’s who I sent her to speak with. I thought we could come to an agreement with him. I offered him . . . an alliance.”

  “An alliance?” Mahkah raised an eyebrow. “I thought your brother wasn’t interested.”

  “Aradon would have had no choice.” She blushed. “I offered Kharil a personal alliance. Marriage.”

  Mahkah grinned. “I see. Is it common for women of your people to initiate a courtship?”

  “No,” Yvina said, “but I am not a woman. I am a kingsdaughter.”

  “You look very much like a woman to me,” Mahkah said.

  Should we take offense? her bear asked.

  Yvina’s stomach fluttered. No, she told the bear. But he’s . . . very direct, isn’t he? She forced herself to laugh. “I mean I am not
just an ordinary woman,” she said. “Kingsdaughter means that I must marry a man who is worthy to be king. If my brother fell without an heir, or proved himself unfit, then my husband would rule our people. If he were Aradori, that is.”

  “I see.” Mahkah looked her over. She flushed. He wasn’t just staring at her. He saw into her, deeper than she quite liked. “Among my people, a man goes to another clan when he is ready to court. He looks for a woman who would make him a fine bride. He brings her gifts: clothing, and knives, and horses. And if she is willing, she rides back to his clan as his wife.” He shifted his seat and let up on the reins a bit. His horse’s pace quickened, and Yvina followed. “Has this Prince Kharil come courting you?”

  “No,” she said. “I didn’t even know if Ikkayana reached her clan safely. I’m glad she did. Anyway, if Sihkun kills my brother, it’ll be too late for anything else.”

  They rode in silence for a while. Even her bear kept still. The sun sank near the horizon. Yvina wondered if she should suggest stopping, but Mahkah seemed to know what he was doing. “I do not think you understand all our customs,” he said at last.

  “I’m certain I do not,” Yvina said.

  “Among our clans, a son does not always follow his father as khan. He earns his place by right. Our last khan-of-khans had a son, true, but the boy was no prince. Just another warrior. He may not even wish to be khan. It has been a dozen years since his father died, and he has done nothing to prove himself to us.”

  “Oh,” Yvina said. Her heart sank. So much for her clever plans. Mahkah must think me a fool.

  Mahkah smiled. “Do not worry. I am sure you will find another Methlan husband, if that is what you want.”

  “I just want to save my brother,” she muttered.

  Mahkah cocked his head. “Tell me of your brother,” he said. “Every Methlan has heard of Aradon Stormborn. He and all your people swept onto our lands like a storm made flesh. But what sort of man is he?”

  Take care what you say, the bear warned. He is our ally for now, but the day may come when his people have their teeth in our throats.