Dave Smeds - The Schemes of Dragons

"I'll join you soon," he whispered.

She nodded, climbed into her clothes, and left the tent.

A breeze stroked her, taking the edge off the hot sunshine. It was a clear, warm day, the perfect complement to her mood. She walked with long, easy strides, and even the sight of the ever-vigilant sentries and the fugitive demeanor of the camp could not bring her down. The rebels greeted her appearance with interest, though they were too polite to intrude.

She found Wynneth helping the camp women to sort chaff from their dwindling supply of grain. "Alemar wants to see you," she said, and chuckled out loud at her sister-in-law's bright smile. Wynneth immediately dropped her task, straightened her hair clip, and hurried toward the far side of the valley.

Elenya turned to one of the other women. "Is that porridge I smell?"

It was, still hot from the midday meal. She took a bowl to a shady spot and began to assuage the fierce hunger left by the healing. Again, the rebel company left her alone, letting her decide when to mingle. She waved at Tregay, Solint, and one or two others, but for the moment enjoyed the solitude.

As she licked the last dollop from her spoon, she noticed that the stranger from the south was putting his mount through a few paces. He was a superior rider. He ran the animal only briefly, just enough to bring a faint glisten of sweat to its deerlike coat; then he made a thorough check of its joints and hooves and wiped it down. The oeikani had clearly done some hard riding. In lesser hands such a trek might have lamed it. She waited until he had tethered the beast to let it graze, then she approached him.

"That's a Zyraii steed," she stated in Surudainese.

He patted the animal's flank and smiled. His face was smooth and open, with glittering, large-pupilled eyes. "Yes. We can speak Zyraii, if it pleases you." His accent was distinct, but he obviously understood the nomad language far better than she knew his tongue. She accepted his offer.

"You've lived among the sons of Cadra," she said.

"For the past three years and more," he replied. "Since shortly after you left."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what else do you know about me?"

"I apologize," he said quickly. "We didn't have the opportunity to be introduced earlier. My name is Dalih. I am from a small oasis near the great city of Surudain. I know you because I have lived among the T'lil and studied swordplay under the opsha."

"Lonal?" she said, her heart quickening to utter the name aloud after such a long time.

"The same. I sought him out because I had heard of his reputation with the blade. To my great joy he decided to tutor me himself. In the past few seasons we have fought side by side in the battles against the Dragon's armies."

"He is well?"

"Yes. He has more lives than a oeikani has fleas. He is an awesome war-leader," Dalih said with undisguised respect. "He is the reason the Dragon has not conquered the Eastern Deserts."

"So I have heard," she said, lost in memories.

"He speaks well of you. He has named a son in your honor. His first wife gave birth a summer past, though the midwives insisted she would never bear another child after the difficulty with the last one."

"I remember," Elenya said. "This is his first son by her, true?"

"His heir. He says that he will teach him the High Speech, so that you may speak it with him should you ever visit the desert."

An image came to Elenya's mind's eye of dunes, eroded buttes, and goatskin tents. "May I live to see that day," she said with emotion. "Tell me, he didn't name his son Elenya, did he?"

Dalih seemed startled. "No. He used Yetem."

"That's wise. Some things do not change."

"No. Nor should they."

Elenya smiled at Dalih's seriousness. "How is it that you came to be here?"

"Your brother's former teacher, the Hab-no-ken Gast, came to the T'lil camp more than fifty days ago. He requested a warrior to carry the message you saw. Lonal chose me."

"Why? You seem as if you were valuable to him."

"He wanted someone he could depend on to reach this destination."

"How did you get to Cilendrodel?"

"I followed the Ahloorm to its source and over the mountains north of Zyraii. Gloroc's men control that land, but it is sparsely inhabited. There are still smugglers who cross the strait, knowing that the Dragon's attention is directed toward the southwest. I hired one to bring me over."

Though his summary was perfunctory, Elenya had the impression the mission had not been so simple an accomplishment. "You did well," she said. "You should be proud."

He inclined his head. "I had my own reason for coming."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Lonal thought I would benefit from it."

"How so?"

"He told me that he had taught me as much as I could learn from him. It was time to send me to someone who could teach me more. He said you were the only person he knew who could do that. I hope that you will accept me."

Elenya's evaluation of Dalih, which had already been high, moved up another notch. "How well did you do in your matches with Lonal?"

"In the past few months, I have beaten him as many as two times out of five."

Elenya watched carefully, but saw no sign of guile or boastfulness. Two out of five. No one had ever beaten Lonal that often. "Suppose I agree to teach you, does that mean you would not go back to the Eastern Deserts?"

"I will stay as long as necessary," he said firmly. "This is a strange land-more trees than I knew could grow on one world-but I will adjust. My sword is my life."

She tapped her toe into the dirt, testing the spring of her feet. The porridge lay lightly in her stomach, just enough there to give her energy without weighing her down. Her body was ready for some vigorous exercise.

"Well," she said. "First things first. Let's see how good you are."

The entire rebel camp turned out for the match, with the exception of Alemar, Wynneth, and the individuals on sentry duty. Elenya enlisted Tregay as judge. They had no practice blades, so they improvised. Both players tied a thin sack of corn around their midsections, outside of light mail shirts. The match would not be the best test of skill, since it was one thing to defend a small area from attack, and quite another to protect the entire body, but it would give Elenya an approximation of Dalih's ability. To make it more realistic, they agreed to allow pinking on the forearms, though such strikes would earn no points. She left off her gauntlet; defeating him while wearing it would prove nothing. They would spar until five total points had been scored.

They faced one another. Tregay gave the signal. Elenya plunged forward, thrusting, and sneaked the tip of her blade into the burlap just before Dalih could twist away.

"First point, Elenya," Tregay announced.

Dalih blinked. She nearly always used the tactic with an opponent who had never seen her fence before. Her lightness, speed, and the committedness of the movement nearly always caught them by surprise. It had failed only with Troy and Lonal.

Dalih bowed, and they assumed their starting positions. Elenya readied herself to repeat the maneuver, though she knew a masterful player would not give her a second chance.

Dalih did not. He changed his stance immediately, eliminating the opening, and danced in with a series of short jabs designed to draw her counter. She did not take the bait. Instead she backed away, leading him into a trap of her own. He abandoned his drive, and they stared at each other from a distance.

He had tried an attack known to Elenya as the Northern Opening. She doubted Dalih had studied classical fencing, but he had the moves. He used them naturally, instinctively, not as would a man who had been taught them by rote.

She tested him with the Southern Feint. He was not fooled, as the technique was intended to create an opening to the lower gut, which was off-limits in this contest. His counterthrust made her scamper backwards.