Dave Smeds - The Sorcery Within

"I will shoot a bird. See if you can hit the same bird with your own arrow, before I can hit it a second time."

He hardly had the words out of his mouth before he grabbed an arrow and let fly. A parrot above screamed and began to flutter earthward. An instant later, it jerked with the impact of another arrow. Before it landed, two more shafts had knocked it this way and that in the air.

Lonal got his legs wet up to the shins in order to retrieve the bird. It bristled with all four arrows, every one firmly lodged in its plump torso. There probably wouldn't have been room for another.

"Not bad," he said. Two of the arrows were his own, marked with a red line down the side of the shaft; two were Elenya's, with a double yellow band just short of the nock. "Now it's your turn."

She smiled. Unlike him, she nocked her arrow serenely and waited, with bow relaxed, for a suitable target. She ignored three likely choices. Then a queeble launched from a low branch. She waited until just before it passed behind a tree, then let loose. The trunk obscured the result.

A moment later, Lonal fired. The arrow caught the queeble just as it reappeared, only a moment before it nose-dived into the grass.

Elenya found it. Her own point had struck the hindquarters. Lonal's shot had gone through one eye and out the other.

"You like to cheat, don't you?" Lonal said.

"Always." Elenya smiled, graciously acknowledging that this time it hadn't worked. "That was a superb shot."

"I have had a lot of practice. You were introduced to this weapon only a month ago."

"I learn quickly."

"Let us hope so," he said.

They sat on a log. Lonal held up the first bird and pulled out a bloody arrow tip. "Imagine that this was a man."

"I don't follow you," she said.

Lonal removed all the arrows, gave Elenya her own to wipe off, and dropped the carcass between them. It was little more than a mass of blood, feathers, and ruptured meat. "We did this from a distance, in a matter of moments. Suppose we had been shooting at a man. Better yet, at four different men. It's not hard to imagine four corpses in as many seconds."

"Maybe not. What if they had bows, too?"

"Then make it six corpses," he said sadly.

Elenya decided not to be flippant.

Lonal continued, forcefully. "Picture a field of men. They are Po-no-pha. There is no greater glory for them than to meet an enemy, one to one, and prove themselves the greater warrior – the best shot with a dagger, the best rider, the most daring. They have distinguished themselves in raid after raid. They go forth with courage and ability.

"And they are mowed down by men who wait within stone bunkers, from afar. Often they never see the men who kill them. They fall and rot on the rocks, their many kinswomen abandoned to fate. Their land is stolen."

He stood up, braced his bow against the log, and unstrung it. "I condemned you last week more strongly than I should have. I was reminded of matters which do little to help my temper. I was angry not so much at you, as at myself. I let the tribe's vigilance go slack just when the Buyul could take advantage of it. I brought you here to try to amend my lack of judgment."

"I don't need an apology."

"This isn't one. I was right to chastise you. My error was in not being prepared. It is my responsibility as war-leader to see that, when my expertise is next called upon, I will better meet the test. I've thought of one thing I might do."

He held up a red-striped arrow. "The Zyraii are all sons of Cadra. We understand each other. Our warriors wagetorovet. We fight, we steal from our enemies, we risk our lives, and, if need be, we take lives. But taking life is not our objective. Raids are a way to win honor and material gain, not to murder. We have a saying: 'The desert kills enough.'

"But now, more and more often we face the armies of the traders. They have no conception oftorovet. They wagewar." Lonal plunged the arrow symbolically back into the body of the ruined bird. "They do not care if the blood of Cadra is completely wiped from the surface of all Tanagaran."

Lonal sighed. "My father was killed by traders. And I have been unable to fulfill my vendetta. Over the past few years I have realized the root of the problem – we Zyraii do notthink like our invaders. We don't understand their rules, if they have any, and therefore we do not anticipate their actions. I have been waiting for someone like you.

"I will be frank. I need you. I have seen your skill and your nature. You and your brother have clearly received long and hard training in the military arts. You understand the type of fighting which my people must now learn. Am I right?"

"Yes," Elenya said.

"I have yet to win your loyalty, but I can hope. I offer you an opportunity, at least. I don't know what goal you came to Zyraii with, but I can provide another of depth and honor. Help our nation remain free."

"Do I have a choice?" she asked.

"God gives us our roles to play. You lost your life your first day in our country by stealing water. I gave it back to you. Now you owe me, and you owe the family of Am and Roel. Until that debt is discharged, you are not free. If you decide to leave, I must order my Po-no-pha to hunt you down and kill you. But whether you cooperate with me or not is another matter."

His tone became almost confessional. "My father was once given an augury concerning my life and the threat of the traders. Because of it, I had to learn the High Speech. He would never tell me why. I never needed to use the language until you and your brother arrived. I suspect you are somehow part of the answer to this challenge. Why else would God have put me through all the trouble you've caused?"

She watched a squirrel race from branch to branch, automatically calculating the lead and force needed to shoot it down. "If I agree, when do we start?"

"Everything has to wait until you are an adult. It is more than three months until the next rite of thepulstrall. If you have advanced in your studies to the satisfaction of the Ah-no-ken, you will be permitted to participate. Po-no-pha do not listen to the advice of children."

"Or women."

"In your case, that has been taken care of."

"So you say."

"There will be problems. But God has performed a miracle, and my people believe in God."

Elenya plucked at the queeble. She had tasted a roasted one earlier that week and enjoyed it. It had pleased her to be able to choose one during the contest. Maybe she wasn't always able to make the rules, but sooner or later, she'd get what she wanted.

"I'll think about it," she said.

LERINA SLID BACK AND FORTHon the film of sweat between their bodies. Her hair cascaded over Keron's face, smooth and ticklish. He didn't brush it away. She straightened up, the filtered light through the drapes catching the glisten of her breasts and collarbones. She rocked gently back and forth, the bed creaking pleasantly. Keron inhaled deeply. She had the skill of a veteran and the enthusiasm of a novice.

She coaxed it out of him with full, firm plunges and lifts. He clamped hands on her buttocks and strengthened the rhythm. It was more than an orgasm. To a man who thought he was dead only a month before, it was resurrection. Long after it was over, all he did was lay there and hope for more.

Lerina collapsed against him, tears in her eyes. "Good, huh?"

"No."

"No?"

He laughed. "No. It was too intense. I wouldn't survive another one like that."

She kissed his nipple. "You'll survive."

She rolled off and nestled against his side. Soon she giggled. "To think I have Uncle Ossatch to thank for all of this."

"Beg pardon?"

"If he hadn't virtually confined me to the cottage until my father comes back, everyone would have started to wonder by now why I'm spending so much time here. It's not like me."