Writers of the Future 32 Science Fiction & Fantasy Anthology

by L. Ron Hubbard

  She considered. “Men will follow him anywhere,” she said at last. “He’s my younger brother. I raised him after our parents’ death. He can be such a hard-headed fool that you want to strangle him.” She found herself clutching at her reins, laughed, and let them slacken. “But sometimes he speaks and even I am swept along. He has this vision for our people. We have no homeland, you see. We fled across the seas in my father’s day. We have a few keeps along the coast, scattered farms and fishing villages to support our people. No wealth. Swords and armor we buy from our neighbors at too high a price. But Aradon has this vision of us as strong and united. He’s going to build us a new homeland, something that no one can take from us. He will make the name Aradori live a thousand years.”

  “He named your people for himself?” Mahkah asked.

  Yvina shook her head. “My mother named him for our people,” she said. “My mother was a seer. She had the winds in her blood. She said, the day he was born, that here was one who would make the earth shake. Swords like lightning, and hooves like thunder. That’s what she said. She named him, she set him in my arms, and she died.”

  Mahkah didn’t reply right away. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Did your mother give you a birth-gift like that?”

  “I don’t know.” He’d hit on one of her secret griefs. Her bear nudged at her, wordless but present, a comfort in her mind.

  They rode into the night. The half-moon shed silver light on the dark steppes, setting the sun-burned grass aglow. The grass rippled before them like little white-capped waves rolling toward a dark shore. A cool breeze brought rich, earthy scents that tingled in her throat. Above, the sky glittered with a sea of stars so bright they almost drowned the moon.

  They gave the horses their heads and walked slowly, until the moon dipped low and the horses could barely set one hoof before another. They stopped and Mahkah built a tiny fire in the hollow between two hills. Yvina sat close and warmed her hands.

  “It gets cold here at night,” Mahkah warned. “There are blankets for us both, but if it’s too cold just before dawn, wake me and I’ll build the fire back up.”

  Yvina nodded, too tired to speak. Mahkah gave her jerked meat and hard, flat bread from one of his saddlebags. She chewed as much as she could, drank from the waterskin, and laid down under a pile of blankets.

  “Forgive me for the accommodations, princess,” Mahkah said quietly from the darkness.

  She yawned. “I told you, I’m a kingsdaughter. Not a princess. I’ve slept out of doors before. While being hunted by slavers. This is much better.” She rolled over and stared up at the sky. “I’ve never seen this many stars,” she said. “Down in the coastlands, the sky is almost always cloudy at night.” Now that the moon had set, she could see the dense band of stars overhead, gleaming like a path in the sky.

  “The ten thousand eyes,” Mahkah said.

  “What?”

  So he told her a legend of the first Methlan, who fled into the empty lands seeking freedom. Their old oppressors hunted them, capturing them in ones and twos and dragging them back to bondage, until the first wise woman went to the first khan. “Give me your eye,” she said, and he took it from its socket and gave it to her. She burned it on a fire of plains-grass and horse-hair, and then took the ashes and threw them up into the sky, where they caught and twinkled. “Now you have ten thousand eyes to see our foes,” she said, and from that time no enemy could catch the Methlan unawares on their steppes.

  “That’s a beautiful story,” Yvina said.

  “My mother used to say that wise woman was her mother’s mother’s mother, fifteen generations back,” Mahkah said.

  “Is your mother dead, too?” Yvina asked.

  “And my father,” Mahkah said. “I have spent a long time away from my clan, seeking answers.”

  “To what questions?”

  Mahkah didn’t answer. Yvina knew she should sleep, but she ached from the day’s hard riding. She twisted around again, curling on her side, pulling the blankets tighter around her shoulders. Mahkah rested only a few feet away, but now that the fire had died she couldn’t even see her own fingers. “Why did you fight me?” she asked. “If you wanted me to come help you save Aradon, then there was no need.”

  “I had reasons,” Mahkah said. She could hear the smile in his voice. It made her heart beat quicker. Here she lay, alone under the stars with a man who had bested her in combat and then showed her utmost deference. Yet she’d heard his breath catch when he saw her dressed in Methlan clothes. A half-dozen times she’d caught him glancing at her body. Oddly, it made her skin tingle rather than crawl with revulsion. Plenty of men found her attractive, even if she was in her late twenties now, but none of them had ever made her feel so alive.

  “What reasons?” she asked, trying to get her mind off this trail.

  “To fight you? Three, and I do not think I will tell you.”

  Now he was just being annoying. “You wanted to get my attention,” she said. “If you’d just said you’re free to go, but come help me, I’d have left you behind in a heartbeat. Coming out with you was foolish.”

  “It might be the cleverest thing you’ve done, lady,” Mahkah said. “I just want to stop Sihkun. You’re the one who wants Aradon back alive.”

  “If Aradon dies, we will have war between your people and mine,” Yvina said.

  “Yes,” Mahkah said softly. “But that might be a war my people can win, if Sihkun and Aradon are both dead. Who will inherit your brother’s throne? You?”

  Now it was her turn not to answer, not to give away anything to a man who was, after all, only a temporary ally. He asked a good question, and one that had kept Yvina awake at night before. Several of the generals would try to seize power. Most likely the Aradori would shatter into half a dozen factions. Mahkah was right: they couldn’t win a war that way. The only way to keep the Aradori united would be for her to marry one of the rivals and bring legitimacy to his claim. She shivered.

  “What’s wrong?” Mahkah asked. “Too cold?”

  “No,” she said, though she shivered beneath the blankets. “Just thinking about what it would cost me to unite my people if my brother dies.”

  “Ahh.” He stretched the sound out. It caressed her ears. He understands what you mean, her bear whispered. He listens, not just to your words but to your heart. Be careful. I do not want to see you wounded.

  I am on guard, dear heart, Yvina said. But it was nice to have someone who actually listened. She closed her eyes and listened to the little sounds of rabbits hopping not far off, the soft whisper of the breeze. Soon Mahkah’s breathing changed, and not long after, sleep came at last.

  She woke abruptly, chilled to the bone. The pale gray sky overhead promised sunrise soon. She sat up and pulled the blankets tight around her shoulders, rubbing her hands.

  Mahkah lay three feet away. He opened his eyes, looked at her for a moment, then got up. He draped his blankets over her and knelt beside the fire. Yvina shivered. A little thrill ran through her as she soaked in the warmth from Mahkah’s blankets. They smelled of him. Like saddle-leather and sweat and horse and a hint of something else she couldn’t name. The scent excited her. Careful, her bear warned. This man is dangerous.

  I don’t think he wants to hurt me, she said.

  That makes him more dangerous than anyone you’ve met, the bear warned.

  Mahkah coaxed a tiny flame. He fed in a bit of kindling, then set a small pot of water near the fire. He dug out a cup and a small pouch, then sifted powder from the pouch into the cup. When the water was steaming, he drew it back and poured. He handed her the cup. Yvina sipped, looking up in surprise as the rush of flavors hit her tongue. She savored blackberry, and dried rosehips, and something with a hint of spice. “Good?” Mahkah asked.

  She nodded. “I’ve never tasted anything like
it.”

  “It’ll warm you quickly,” he said. He watched her drink.

  “Don’t you want any?” she asked, after taking another sip.

  “I have only the one cup,” he answered.

  She took another sip, then handed him the cup. He raised an eyebrow but drank. They handed the drink back and forth, filling it again when the water ran low. Then Mahkah threw the dregs over the fire and kicked dirt on it. “We should get started.”

  Yvina helped pack the horses, rolling up the blankets and stowing them as pink streaks lit the sky. It didn’t take long. They mounted.

  “Look,” Mahkah said, taking her reins and turning their horses to face east.

  Yvina started to ask what, and then the first rays of the sun peeked above the horizon, flooding the plains with pale light. A flock of birds soared up from the brush nearby, flying upward and filling the air with their song. Nearby, a brook whispered. The sun rose higher, its disc heaving up over the horizon. “Oh,” she said, and couldn’t find other words.

  Mahkah was watching her. “It’s worth rising early just for this.”

  “Oh, yes,” she breathed. “I’ve never . . . I’ve seen thousands of sunrises, but not like this.”

  “It is good that you like the steppes,” Mahkah said gravely. He swung his horse around. Yvina followed.

  “Why’s that?”

  “You said before that you have offered an alliance to Prince Kharil.”

  “Oh. Yes.” She’d almost forgotten that, forgotten everything as she enjoyed the early morning with this strange man. “I suppose I never thought about it,” she said. “I would have to come out and live here.”

  “Could you?” he asked.

  “It’s so lonely,” she said. “For a day or three, I don’t mind, but for longer?”

  He laughed. “You forget. A khan will have a whole clan with him. It’s hard to find privacy, not company.”

  “Tell me about that life,” she said. “Tell me what it’s like to be Methlan.”

  Mahkah twitched his reins and she matched his canter. After a while, they slowed to a walk again. “I am perhaps not the right Methlan to ask,” he said. “I have spent many years as a wanderer, going from clan to clan or just finding my own path.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “When my father died, there were those who had certain expectations for me,” he said. “Ones I was not sure I could embrace. We say that any man may become khan, if he proves himself. But it seems that khans’ sons have less to prove. Sons often follow their fathers. I was young. Many doubted me. Still, I beat three rivals.”

  “And then?”

  Mahkah shook his head. “The fourth was the man my sister desired for her husband.”

  “So?” Yvina said.

  “If I defeated him, then for my sister to marry him would have brought us shame. So I left. I took my horse and my saddle and I went to wander. That was ten years ago.”

  “I see,” she said, though she didn’t. “Is this man a good khan?”

  “No,” Mahkah said. “I knew he would not be, but I chose my sister’s happiness over my clan’s wellbeing. I thought they would see through him and choose again. But he has clung to power through intimidation. And now he will make himself khan-of-khans.”

  “Sihkun,” Yvina said, the light dawning. “So that’s why you’re returning now. To fight him as you should have done before.”

  “No,” Mahkah said, shaking his head. “I cannot challenge him. He is my brother now, and for brother to fight brother is forbidden.”

  “Then what are you planning to do?” Yvina asked. Something nagged at her, an unformed sensation that didn’t even rise to a suspicion, yet. Mahkah was more than he seemed.

  “Wait and see,” Mahkah said. His light tone annoyed her. More than annoyed; she was tired of being treated like a fool, by Mahkah or anyone else.

  Yvina pressed her horse’s flanks. The bay mare took a few quicker steps, bringing Yvina level with Mahkah’s horse and only a foot away. She glared up at him. Set him on fire with your eyes, the bear suggested helpfully. “You are making me a pawn in your schemes,” Yvina said. “I want to know what they are. No. I demand you tell me what you are going to do.”

  “Or?” Mahkah asked. “Surely you are used to men keeping their councils from you.”

  “Oh, I’m used to that,” Yvina spat. “I am used to my brother and his generals shutting me out because I’m only a woman and what could I know, as they sit discussing the information my spy networks have brought them. I know very well the way men try to hide their plans from women. That’s why all my informants are women. Sisters and daughters of lords too proud to watch them. Servant girls and whores who tell me what they say in their sleep. I have given my brother a dozen victories based on the secrets that men have thought they kept from women. I just wanted to think you had more sense than that. But perhaps men are the same, no matter what people they call their own.” She looked away and bit her lip. Tears welled in her eyes. There was no reason for her to tear up about this. This man meant nothing to her. She shouldn’t have let him get under her skin. “I will not be used,” she insisted.

  “Did you not offer yourself as part of a scheme?” Mahkah asked softly.

  “That’s different. I looked at all my options, everything I knew, and chose to make that offer.”

  “To offer yourself to a man you have not met, who your informant had not seen in years? To join a people you know nothing of?”

  “That has nothing to do with this,” Yvina insisted. Her horse’s gait began to cramp her thigh. It only stoked her anger more. “You want my help, you can tell me your plan!”

  Mahkah studied her, face unreadable. At last he nodded. Pulling back on his reins, he slowed his horse to a walk. Yvina matched his stride. “I am going to challenge your brother,” he said. “I am going to fight Aradon in the presence of all our people, and when I am done no one will think of letting Sihkun lead.”

  Yvina’s stomach twisted into knots. “You want me to help you kill my own brother?” She reached for the sword in the saddle-scabbard. Mahkah’s hand darted out and seized hers.

  “No,” he said, eyes blazing. She nudged her horse away from his and he let her hand go, following closely. “Yvina. I am not going to kill your brother. I don’t need to. All I need to do is impress my people. Then you and your brother may go free.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I swear it on my own soul, on my sword, and on the dreams I dream,” Mahkah said.

  As Yvina struggled for an answer, a flash of motion on the horizon caught her eye. She turned to look. Mahkah put his hand to his brow. Help me see, brother bear, she said, and she focused like a hawk.

  Ten Methlan warriors rode toward them. They were all armed. “You said Sihkun is your brother now and you cannot fight him,” Yvina said. “I don’t think they agree with you.”

  Mahkah fumbled with the pouch on his waist. “Are they wearing skin-wards?”

  “Skin-wards? You mean the warpaint?” Yvina squinted. “Yes. All of them. Covered in it, like tattoos on a sailor.”

  Mahkah held a jar in his hand. He dipped his finger and began to draw dark lines on his own chest. “How many of them?”

  “Ten I can see. Their saddles have the same markings as mine.” She hadn’t noticed before that Mahkah’s horse wore a plain saddle, without the fancy colors and designs she’d seen on other Methlan.

  “Sihkun’s men for sure, then.”

  She pulled her bow free of its scabbard and felt for the arrows. The short bow was different than she was used to, but she knew how to nock an arrow. “We can sting them,” she said.

  “Good. They’ll be trying to shoot us too, of course, but if we can unseat a few of them before they get here, we’ll find it easier.” Mahkah set aside the paint, found his own bow, and st
ared at the enemy. “I know three of their faces,” he said. “Do not hesitate. They will show no mercy. If they overwhelm us, slice your throat before they can take you.”

  She nodded, unable to speak. Are you ready? she asked the bear.

  Always, came the reply. If today we die, we will die well.

  “Yvina,” Mahkah said. She started. It was the first time he hadn’t called her lady. “If today I die, I will die in good company.”

  She laughed. “That’s what my bear said.” She set an arrow to the string. The riders were three hundred yards away and closing fast. She drew the string back to her ear and let fly. The string twanged, stinging her fingers. She didn’t waste time watching the arrow. Nocking another, she fired again. Beside her, Mahkah sent a stream of arrows so close together it sounded like a hive of bees.

  Some of their arrows found marks. Three enemies toppled from their saddles, and a horse reared up, screaming in pain. An arrow whipped past Yvina’s head, taking a strand of hair with it. She swallowed hard, fired off one last arrow, then dropped her bow into its scabbard and drew her sword.

  The enemy was on them. A man galloped right at her, his sword high. Yvina ducked his swing, leaned forward, and put her sword in his ribs. He gaped at her even as his horse carried him past. She hung onto her hilt grimly and the blade ripped free, trailing blood. She turned in her saddle.

  Mahkah held a sword in each hand. He guided his horse with his knees and Yvina wished she could watch him, because the flashes she saw were brilliant. He was music in muscle. He cut and swung, every blow perfect and purposeful. Pay attention to the men you want to kill, not the one you want to ride, her bear snarled, and she turned back.

  They were down to four enemies. Three surrounded Mahkah, riding in circles around him, while the fourth hung back. He was pulling a bow out of his saddle-scabbard, Yvina realized. She kicked her horse and galloped forward, shouting. The man looked up in surprise just as she swung. His head flew off his shoulders and bounced three times before rolling to rest in a scraggly bush. She turned back.