Shadowborn - Captivity Part 17

I'm not sure why it will work out that way, but it will."

"Absolutely not," Fearin stated while I stared at Ranander with even more confusion. "That's the most idiotic suggestion I've ever heard, and we're not even going to be considering it. If I have to I'll use the Power to protect her, but she's not going to be fighting anybody."

"You'll use a Power that's already stretched thin with everything else it has to do?" Ijarin asked him before I could say anything myself. "That sounds to me like you'd first have to gather more Power, and I've heard masters speak about how unsafe that is. What you're already handling is - "

"Is my business alone and none of yours," Fearin rapped out, looking coldly at Ijarin. "I'll know when I'm approaching my limit, and so far I know no such thing. And even if I were, how can you prefer the idea of the girl throwing her life away to my taking a very small chance? Of course no one will bother her again if she fights. Who wastes time trying to bother the dead?"

"Dead?" I echoed in outrage, refusing to let Ijarin interrupt again. "What suddenly makes me that incompetent a fighter? I looked this way through every one of my Trials as a Life Seeker, and I not only won through them I did better than most. Just because you would be feeling fainthearted over a little fighting doesn't mean - "

"If I could do the fighting then there would be nothing to worry about," he growled back, those eyes nearly glowing at me. "I don't care how good you think you are, I won't have you running around offering your neck to the blade. You - "

"Wait!" Ijarin bulled his way between us, interrupting before I could suggest that I show Fearin how good or bad I was. "Let's just wait before getting to generalized bloodshed. Since we have someone here who can know the truth of what we believe, why don't we get our questions answered through him?"

Fearin glared at me while I returned the favor, so Ijarin got nothing in the way of a verbal response. I was aware of the fact that Garam, Talasin, and Lokkel had stopped their own squabbling in deference to ours, but before any of them could venture an opinion Ijarin hurried on.

"All right, Ranander, Fearin has made two suggestions," Ijarin said. "The first is that he protect Kiri with his Power, and the second that he do the fighting for her. Can you tell if either of those ideas would work?"

"First the Power," Ranander said, and I turned my head to see the very distracted look in hiseyes. "There's a small, weak yes there, but - Oh, I see! It doesn't solve the problem, it just puts it off until he's distracted by something else. Then - No, let's just say it doesn't work."

Ranander didn't even glance in my direction, but he didn't have to. His fast change of subject told the story all too clearly.

"What about Fearin doing the fighting?" Garam asked, his voice hard. "Or, for that matter, Talasin or me?"

"Someone else fighting," Ranander repeated, back into distraction. "Two out of three of you would win easily, the third would be wounded but would still win. In any event, it would change nothing. Someone else's winning would not keep them away from Kiri. Only her own victory will do that."

"And you're that certain she'll win?" Ijarin pressed, now sounding encouraged. "If that's so, we have nothing to worry or argue about."

"He can't be that certain she'll win," Fearin said as Ranander hesitated, sour satisfaction in his voice. "He may know she has to fight to solve the problem, and he may know she won't be bothered again if she wins. What he doesn't know is if she'll win with ease or even if she'll survive the win. With her being Shadowborn, he can't reach close enough, not the way he can with the rest of us. Am I wrong, Ranander?"

"No," the downhearted answer came, along with a short breath of weary vexation. "It's as bad as having heavy Power in the way. I know she has to fight and win, and I know what will happen if she does. I just can't tell whether or not she will win, or whether she'll survive if she does.

I'm sorry, Kiri. I guess Fearin is right and I should have kept quiet."

"There are a lot of things Fearin isn't right about, and this is just one," I came back immediately, having already made the decision. "This meeting was for the purpose of solving a problem, and that's been done. Which of you will be arranging this fight, and when and where will it be?"

I got a lot of voices shouting at me then, all of them arguing one point or another. I let it go on for a short while by showing them my back, and then I turned again with a hand up.

"All right, one of you come up with a better idea," I challenged into the seething silence I'd forced. "At the very least it has to guarantee to do the job if it works, just like the first idea.

Well? Let's hear all those suggestions."

There was some muttering and foot-shuffling in response to my demand, not to mention dark looks of disapproval. What I didn't get was words, which let me nod slowly in their direction.

"Exactly," I told them. "There are no other ideas to try, at least none that will work. Now, which of you will be arranging the fight, and when and where can it be?"

"Arranging it has to be mine and Talasin's to do," Garam grudged, glancing at a stony-faced Fearin. "At least it will be if everyone agrees we're going ahead with this. Since there are ten main regiments, I'd suggest one representative from each. Not their best, of course, but -"

"It has to be their best or I'll be wasting my time," I said, gesturing aside the silliness of what he'd been about to suggest. "How about when and where?"

"The forward scouts tell me there's a very old amphitheater dug into the ground only half an afternoon's march ahead," Talasin supplied, even more grudging than Garam had been. "They think the place may have been used for secret rites of some sort hundreds of seasons ago, and we were going to alter the march to avoid it. Since it will still be light enough when we get there, I suppose we can make use of the place. If everyone decides we're going through with this."

The everyone they'd been referring to was still expressionless, except for the look in his dark blue eyes. Fearin seemed to be fighting inside himself, struggling with a decision he obviously didn't want to make. I didn't understand what he thought he could possibly gain by refusing to go along with a clear necessity, but even as the question crossed my mind he stopped wasting his time.

"All right," he granted, showing Garam and Talasin what real grudging looked like. "We've been given no other choice than to go ahead with this madness, so that's what we'll do. But onething our lady had better understand, and that clear as a bell. If she's hurt during this thing, she'd better pray she doesn't survive. If she does survive she'll wish she hadn't. Let's get this meal over with and then we'll get on with it."

He gestured the others away with him as he headed for the food table, leaving me to stand and stare while buried in confusion up to my ears. What had he been talking about, right there at the end? Men of Power enjoyed making cryptic statements, I knew, but that one hadn't been cryptic it had been ridiculous.

"It seems you have your orders," Ijarin said from my left, amus.e.m.e.nt back in his voice. "He let you get your way, but you'd better fight with every bit of ability you have or you'll really be in for it. But I wouldn't count on having gotten away with anything if I were you. You've made him so mad it won't be long before he comes after you anyway."

"Let him come," I said, completely unsurprised that Ijarin had supposedly understood what Fearin had said. Two of a kind, if ever I'd seen it... "And mad is the least he deserves to be. If he decides to come forward with any complaints, I can always turn mad into shredded."

"You seem to be blaming Fearin for something, but I'd say he doesn't understand what that something is," the barbarian offered after the briefest of hesitations. "If he did something to hurt you, why not talk to him about it? Unless I'm totally mistaken, I believe he'd be willing to promise never to do it again."

"You expect him to promise to change his nature?" I asked with a sound of ridicule. "Then let me know how much of a bet you'd back your belief with, and I'll find a way to match it. There's no such thing as ever having too much gold."

"Didn't I hear you admit you'd been told something by someone else?" Ijarin persisted, his tone now thoughtful. "Yes, that's exactly what you said, so we may not be talking about something Fearin did. You can't be blaming him for something someone else said he did?"

Those light blue eyes were now staring directly at me, and there wasn't much in the way of laughter in them. For some reason I could feel my cheeks beginning to warm, but I quickly shook off the feeling.

"What makes any of this your business?" I demanded, straightening where I stood. "If it's just that burning need of yours to interfere with everything in reach, that's really too bad. I don't happen to like being interfered with, and I've been known to take exception to those who try it anyway."

"Do you let yourself get angry so often because you know how beautiful you look when it happens?" he asked with a faint grin, the expression in his eyes changing to match. "That may help you with men like the rest of us, but Fearin isn't the same. Your anger won't impress him, your beauty won't impress him, and he won't want to hear that someone else told you stories. If you don't have something to point to that he did personally, you can bet the first thing he'll do is give you something to point to. Take my advice and talk to him now, before this misunderstanding gets any worse."

"That happens to be a very good idea," another voice said from behind me, one that was back to sounding calm and in control. "You tell me what I'm supposed to have done, and I'll tell you whether or not I really did it. It isn't fair to accuse a man without giving him a chance to defend himself."

"I did give you that chance," I said without turning, feeling myself stiffen over how close he was. "I asked you about the camp women, and you told me yourself you'd never touched any of them. I suppose if you'd known what I was after you would have answered differently, but it's too late for that. I have the truth now and won't let you tell me any differently."

"What in all the corners of chaos is that supposed to mean?" he demanded in exasperation while Ijarin stared at me blankly. "You would have been happier to hear that I'd had every one of the camp women a dozen times each? I know you can't be expected to look at things the way ordinary females do, but that doesn't mean you can't make sense."

"If it's sense you want, then how about this," I said with the growl I felt, finally turning to lookat him. "If I'm not what you'd call an ordinary female, what would you call me? Surely not innocent?"

"In a lot of ways that's exactly what you are," he answered, blue eyes narrowed. "Innocent and unworldly with things that the rest of us take for granted. But what has that got to do with - ".

"Then that's why you suggested we play a 'game,'" I went on, refusing to stop now that I'd gotten started. "You knew I was far too innocent to refuse, and it was easier playing the game with me than with some girl from the city. The girl you might have had to leave behind, but I'd be going along on the campaign anyway. We could keep ... pretending just as long as I continued to believe you, which would be until you got tired of the game. It wasn't likely I'd be finding out the truth on my own, not as innocent as I am. Now try telling me I'm not innocent, and there wasn't any game."

"Chaos take it, of course I made it a game," he answered, and even had the nerve to look annoyed. "How else was I supposed to keep you from shying away in panic? You couldn't even stand to have someone tell you you were looking fit. How was I supposed to tell you I - "

His words broke off as frustration flashed across his features, and that I could understand. My own expression was showing him exactly what I thought of him and it couldn't have been considered pretty, let alone beautiful.

"Now I know how arrogant it's possible to get," I told him in disgust. "You stand there making mindless statements, refusing to admit the guilt even when you're caught. Me, shying away in panic from anything? Please, do tell me another one. If I ever again believe anything you say I will be a hopeless innocent."

I began to turn away from him then, glad everything was finally in words, but arrogant is as arrogant does. High Master Fearin decided there was more to say, and his hands came to my arms to force me into turning back to him.

"I made what we had between us a pretense for your sake," he insisted, speaking the words slowly and clearly. "I claim I wasn't lying or trying to take advantage of you, but there's a way you can prove I'm stretching the truth after all. Call my bluff by agreeing to marry me."

Our audience made various sounds in reaction to that, some of them groans of exasperation, but they needn't have bothered. I knew I wasn't innocent, and that was what I intended to prove.

"By the G.o.ds, but your generosity is amazing," I said, raising my arms to pull them out of his grip. "Now that you know what I really look like you'll let me force you into marrying me in order to clear your name. I'm so overwhelmed I can't think of a single thing to say."

"Fearin, she has to fight later," Ijarin said quickly, putting a big arm up across the chest of the High Master. The man of Power had begun to take a step toward me, his face dark with anger, but the barbarian had saved him from a possibly fatal mistake. "Afterward you and she can try to straighten this out, but for now you'd better let it rest."

"Rest?" Fearin said, forcing himself to look at Ijarin. "You see something restful in this insanity? When I get my hands on whoever gave her those ideas he'll find the permanent kind of rest. And if I don't kill her for being gullible enough to believe it, they'll undoubtedly carve my name in stone as the most patient man ever to have lived. If she's going to be fighting later, make sure she eats something now."

I expected him to glare at me before he stalked off, but apparently he was smarter than that. I was really bristling over having been called gullible, and if he'd even glanced my way I would probably have started the fight myself.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that killing looks simply bounce off men who wield Power?" Ijarin asked, and wasn't it nice that he was amused again. "You're wasting your time, so you might as well switch to doing something more productive. What would you like to eat?"

"His heart and liver," I muttered in answer, not joking in the least. "It's been a while since I've had really fresh meat."Then I realized that I could do with something to eat, and stalked away myself to the food table. I was delighted I had a fight to look forward to - even if the fight wasn't with my victim of choice - and apparently everyone could see that. They all left me alone, even when we left the tent to continue following the march.

By the time we reached the amphitheater Talasin had mentioned, you would have thought there was a lightning storm hovering above us. The air all but crackled with tension and expectation, and the rumble of muttering voices rose and fell but never really stopped. The guardsmen had finished their march for the day, but no one was taking the time to make camp. They just about dropped their possessions where they stood, and immediately began to form up to climb down into the amphitheater.

"We'd better get down there ourselves," Ijarin said in a mutter as he watched them, his horse to the right of mine. "Prince Garam has the ten you'll be facing, but he isn't happy about who they turned out to be. Each one is his regimental champion, and the men seem to have gotten the idea that if their champion wins, so do they. None of us likes it, but it may be the only thing currently holding the men back."

"I'm going to find out what this is all about," I promised myself out loud, feeling more foolish than afraid. "Three or four men might hurt me, but I couldn't possibly survive the attentions of a regiment. This has to be the most insane thing I ever heard of, the most outrageously unbalanced - "

"Let's not get into that now," Ijarin cautioned, dismounting to hand his reins to one of his own men. "The first thing you have to do is survive this encounter, and then we can worry about the rest. How are you feeling?"

"Just as weak and helpless as the next Kenoss Shadowborn," I answered, doing my own dismounting. "Why do you ask?"

"I noticed you didn't eat very much this afternoon," he said, following after me as I walked toward the entrance steps that had been reserved for me. "I'd hate to think you were regretting now that you didn't take more."

"There's one Kenoss Trial that demands you go without food for three days before you attempt it," I commented, watching where I was going rather than turning to look at him. "And as far as Shadowborn training goes... No. No, I don't regret not having eaten more."

He let it be after that and simply followed me down the steps into the amphitheater. Which was good, because now wasn't the time for distractions...

Chapter 17.

The amphitheater was very old, with step seats cut down into the rock that was only a few feet below the loam of the meadow. It would have been impossible for an ordinary person to know that that rock was there, so the ones who built this thing must have had special help. The steps went down quite a distance into the ground, and at the bottom was a smooth circle of brushed rock more than sixteen strides in diameter. I wondered if someone had cleared away the small stones and such that should have littered the circle, then dropped the question entirely. As strange as the rest of that episode was, there was very little chance that I'd like the answer to my cleaning question.

One glance had shown me that there would not be enough room in the seats for our entire army, but they were huddling close to allow as many in as possible. The only reasonably uncrowded area was the part that would be our fighting circle, and even that wasn't being allowed to stand empty. Ten men dressed only in tunics crouched at the far side of the circle,while five others stood or walked elsewhere in it. Garam and Fearin were two who walked together, and when they saw me descending they came to meet me.

"The more I think about this, the worse an idea it becomes," Garam growled, his face dark with anger. "Those men are looking forward to winning, and they don't much care what they have to do to make it happen. I know them all and I've never seen them behave like this before."

"But it all fits in so nicely with the rest of the insanity," I answered, waving one hand. "An army gone mad, a very convenient place to hold an exhibition, and no other path open to us. It doesn't matter how good or bad an idea it is; there's nothing else to be done."

"I wonder," Fearin murmured, his face expressionless, then he seemed to pull himself out of reverie. "For right here and now we don't have a choice. The fight will happen, but I think you'd all better remember that Kiri has no guarantee of winning. She'll have to fight with everything she has, and if she wins it will only be because she earns the victory. If she was meant to win, if this was supposed to be no more than an exercise, there would have been no need for such elaborate arrangements. Do you understand what I'm saying, girl?"

"You're not the only one who thought of that," I returned, barely glancing at him. "This is real, and that's the way I'm looking at it. How much longer before I can start?"

"Soon," Garam answered when Fearin didn't, looking around at the rapidly filling steps. "Very soon."

I nodded and walked past them both, found a place of my own in the circle, then crouched down to run through the inner preparation I'd learned from the Inadni. I could feel all those eyes staring at me, could almost hear the thoughts behind, then firmly pushed it all away. The effort about to be made was the only importance in the universe, and the Learning helped me to know that in every bone and sinew of my body.

I became aware of someone standing over me, and when I pulled my vision outward to look up I saw Garam. Behind and around him the entire amphitheater seemed filled, with men crouched or standing around the upper edge as well. The sun was low in the sky, so low that part of the seats were covered with shadow, and that had to mean it was time. I straightened slowly until I stood erect, then looked toward my opponents with the eyes of one readied.

"I'll get things started and make sure they're done in proper form," Garam began, his gaze clinging to my face, but I slowly shook my head.

"No," I said in the whisper that could be heard so clearly, a lingering aftereffect of having touched so closely to the rest of the Learning. "It's for me to do. You just stay well back with the others."

His frown had only just begun to grow when I walked away from him, heading for the center of the circle. The rumbling thunder of voices had been a constant backdrop, but when I reached my place and stopped the thunder did the same.

"Stand up, step forward, and say whether you wish to face me barehanded or with weapons," I told the ten whose eyes stared at me so hotly. "Do it now."

"Barehanded," came an immediate answer, and one of the ten rose first to step forward with a grin. "I mean to have something left to repay me for the trouble I'm taking."

"Barehanded," I agreed, removing my swordbelt and holding it out to my right. Someone came to take the swordbelt, Ranander, I think, and then I had no attention to spare for anyone but my opponent.

An opponent who was already moving toward me, his own waist bare of a swordbelt. He was a regimental champion, I'd been told, someone who knew how to fight, so I stood loose while waiting for his first attack. I waited while he simply strode across the circle and up to me, then put out his right hand to close it around my left arm. Attack was what I'd been expecting, stupidity was what I'd gotten. It was more annoying than surprising, but it certainly wasn't something to ignore.

I quickly reached over to his hand with my own right hand, thumb below his thumb, fingerswrapped around the opposite edge. Using my left hand at his elbow to a.s.sist in the twist I turned him away from me with a scream torn from his throat, bending him over helplessly. That was when I brought up my left knee into his outer elbow with strength, making him scream even louder before he fainted and collapsed. I released him when his senses fled from having had his elbow shattered inward, then looked at the remaining nine.

"Remove this, and then let's have another," I said into the strained silence now being maintained. "And one more capable, if you please."

Two men came to move the unconscious one, neither of them members of the nine, and when they'd gotten out of the way there was another opponent already waiting. This one also wore nothing of a swordbelt, but unlike his predecessor he showed nothing of a grin. He came forward cautiously, his hands already up, his eyes studying my stance and movement. Better, I thought as I awaited him, much better.

But it wasn't. From the antic.i.p.ation everyone seemed to be watching him with I expected a display of at least adequate skill, but the speed and angle of his first kick killed that idea. I blocked the kick and the next as well, let his fists fly past in blows he should have been ashamed of, then abruptly lost patience. A front kick took him hard in the groin, slowing his rush, and then I spun about and delivered a roundhouse kick to his face. He went back and down to sprawl on the stone, his neck possibly broken, and that was the end of a second one.

"If this is the bet any of you can do, you're wasting my time," I said after a general sound of disappointment surged and then died. "Among those I studied with, these pitiful specimens never would have survived. Is there someone capable to face me next?"

"I'll face you," a growl answered, and one of the eight stepped forward - wearing a swordbelt.

The tension in the air all around seemed to shift its stance, something I paid only a small amount of attention to as my last opponent was removed and my own swordbelt was returned.

There was now a difference, but I wasn't certain as to what it was.

Something of a hint came when I returned my attention to the next challenger - only to find that there were two. A second armed man had joined the first, and despite the shouts of protest from the leaders of their army they were both drawing their weapons as they came forward.

Without hesitation I freed my own blade, then went to meet them.

The fight was brisk and fast-moving, but didn't last very long. The two attacked together, but had obviously never fought together. I circled fast to my right, parrying a slash as I went, and that man whirled to face me and continue his onslaught. The only thing he didn't notice was that his shift had blocked his companion's efforts, and he was blocking the man himself. I slid a swipe, parried a backhand riposte, then plunged my blade deep into my opponent's chest.

The newly dead man was only just beginning to fold to the ground when his companion broke free to face me, and the shock of now being alone hit the second man hard. He parried my immediate attack as his face went pale, and he tried to keep his eyes from the red staining my blade. He beat at my weapon as though he held a stick, the breath hissing out of him through clenched teeth, and then he seemed to realize he was no more than heartbeats from being ended. He forced a clumsy disengage by stumbling quickly backward, and then he was hurrying to rejoin the six men remaining.

Six men who were already on their feet with swords in their fists. The last of the sunlight glinted from their weapons, underscoring the blood-thick silence that lay heavily all around. Silence right now should not have been, especially not a silence of straining madness. I felt it in all its unnatural presence, saw the seven already coming forward as one, and had no choice but to meet unnatural with unnatural.

I could feel the shadow beginning to gather around me as I stared at the seven, the beast already starting to peer out of my eyes. It was the only way I could survive against them all, the only way to preserve my own existence, the undeniable way I'd been given no choice about using. When my life was in danger the beast would emerge, even if my preference was to meet the danger and let it best me.But this particular danger wasn't about to best me. More and more shadow had been drawn to me, the better to let them see the burning red eyes of the beast. For a handful of moments my appearance meant nothing to them, and then a ... trance of some sort seemed to break, ending the dream they'd been walking through. At the same moment it ended for the men watching, and then the shouts and yells - and screams - came amidst the surging of thousands of bodies.

The surging of thousands but the freezing of seven. Those seven now knew what they'd been approaching, or at least could see it, and knew even better that they wanted nothing to do with it. The beast was coldly delighted with their presence, drinking in their fear, already tasting their blood in imagination. The men in front of it were frantic, wanting nothing more to do with what had been going on. But the beast watched them backing away, and then she began to move after them.

And I couldn't stop it. Somewhere deep inside I knew it should be over, the madness and fighting no longer something to worry about, but I couldn't force the beast back and down. It had come out much too far, almost to the point of taking over the last vestige of me as it always did. I tried to stop the next step taking me after the seven terrified men, fought with all my strength - and managed to do no more than slow the step a little. I'd never entered a fight without expecting to win, but the beast was one opponent I had no chance against.

And then there was a ... tingling stepping in on my side, a force that was helping me to fight down the beast. The beast snarled and tried to claw free, wanting nothing so much as to be turned loose, but the tingling wasn't letting it happen. There was a heavy blue glow that I could feel rather than see, and the glow was smothering the beast and sending it back to the place it came from. The glow gave me the strength to do my own clawing, out of the shadows and back into the fading light, to become aware again of what was happening around me.