Sharon Green: To Battle The Gods

“We have sent a runner to inform the others of your return, Jalav,” said Gidon, her green eyes filled with pleasure as she tossed her heavy, golden hair. “All has gone well for us in your absence, and has clearly done the same for you. The males, we saw, have come to stand with us.”

“Also have we seen another thing,” said Palar, stroking the neck of my ken while her eyes rested upon Ennat. “The enemy clans ride as well? They showed themselves at your signal, it seemed; can it be they follow you as we do?”

“It was Mida’s will that they do so,” said I, pleased to once again be among my own. “This is Ennat, Keeper to those who are no longer enemy to us, and I have brought her here so that she and Rilas might speak.”

“The Keeper will surely be awaiting your arrival at the overlarge dwelling, Jalav,” Palar said with a nod as she and Gidon backed a pace from my ken. “We give Mida our thanks that you have returned, and will hear the tale of your journeying when our presence here is no longer required.”

“And perhaps share a cup or two of daru,” said I, more than warmed by their welcome. “There is much to speak of before the arrival of the strangers.”

I turned my kan from them and once again led the way, through the narrow, choking, smooth-stoned paths that were city ways. Surprisingly there were many city folk about, keeping themselves from the gate and warrior doings, yet frankly staring. They gestured boldly and spoke curiously among themselves, male and female alike, little ones running here and there among their elders. They buzzed with questions as we rode among them, clearly sharing an excitement of sorts, eager as though they, too, anticipated glorious battle. These city folk had not seemed the same when last I had ridden among them, and I knew not what had brought such change to them.

The narrow city ways took us through the city, and then did they widen to pass larger, more isolated dwellings, grander by far than those which stood one upon the other. A distance ahead of us was visible the largest dwelling of them all, the dwelling which had once belonged to the High Seat of Bellinard, the dwelling which now housed my Midanna. Here and there among the city folk had I seen Midanna warriors, their hands raised in greeting as I passed, their faces grinning, their attention sought by many of these about them who clearly meant to question them. Again I had been uncomprehending, for the city folk had shown no fear of those warriors, and had I had no other thoughts to occupy me, I would surely have spent many reckid in wondering.

At last we came to the overlarge dwelling called the Palace of the High Seat, seeing the orange of the Hersa and the gold of the Hulna where those warriors stood guard at the city’s second gate, not far from the dwelling. Before the dwelling itself was an expanse reached by many steps, white against the pink of the dwelling, now well peopled by Midanna warriors, in their van no other than Rilas. Our Keeper remained tall and straight, yet were there streaks of white in her golden hair, showing the number of kalod she had held the honor of her office. Her long covering contained all the colors of our clans, and her thin face smiled greeting as I drew rein and slid from the back of my kan.

“So, Jalav, once again you return to us with victory in your hand,” said she, her voice warm and filled with great pleasure and pride. “Truly are you a daughter of Mida, blessed many times over by the mother of us all.”

I gave my kan to the Helda warrior who happily stood awaiting the honor of tending the mount of one so well loved by Mida, and mounted the steps to where Rilas awaited me. Had I been less pleased to be among my own again, it would have been considerably more difficult to return Rilas’s smile.

“Blessed is she who has those she may return to, those with whom she may share her victories,” said I to Rilas, putting my hand to her shoulder as she put hand to mine. “I bring with me a new sister, Rilas, one of many new sisters whose presence I relish. I would have you know Ennat, once of the Sidda, now Keeper to all of her clans.”

“I give you welcome, sister,” said Rilas to Ennat, who had climbed the steps to stand beside me. Larger even than I was Ennat, and she returned the smile Rilas gave with even greater warmth.

“I am honored to stand before you, Keeper of those who were once enemy to us,” said Ennat, speaking in a voice smaller than usual. “The heart and wisdom of Rilas have long been known of among all Midanna, even those who looked to another as Keeper. I would learn what I might from you, Keeper, so that I, too, may bring comfort and aid to the warriors about me.”

“I have no doubt that you already bring such comfort and aid, Keeper,” said Rilas, with a gentle amusement in her eyes. “You are welcome to stand beside me, Ennat, to see that we all abide by the will of Mida—as does Jalav, for whom the will of Mida seems to be a demand that she surround herself with larger and larger numbers of males. The four you departed with have now become considerably more, Jalav. Have your needs grown so large that you require such a number?”

“Some blessings have their dark side as well, Rilas,” said I, aware of the greater amusement within her as she allowed her gaze to acknowledge those who rode in my wake. “It has been my lot to find myself among males without number, a doing I would have quickly ended had it not been demanded of me. There are others I would have you know, those who are indeed male, yet who have proven themselves something more.”

I turned to where the Sigurri and S’Heernoh awaited upon the stones below, their eyes busily taking in the warriors all about, and gestured them to me. Ilvin had ascended the steps in the near wake of Ennat and myself and continued to receive the greetings of those Hitta who were present. When the males were about us, I returned my gaze to Rilas.

“Keeper, I would have you know those who are followers of Sigurr, and one who is not,” said I, indicating the males who had grown respectfully silent. “This one is Aysayn, called Shadow of Sigurr, a Keeper to those who follow the dark god. He of the blazing hair is Mehrayn, called Sword of Sigurr, war leader to his males. The third is Chaldrin, a true keren among males, more foolish than others in that he insists upon following a war leader of Midanna and raising his sword beside hers. Mida alone knows for what reason I call him brother.”

Chaldrin chuckled softly, possibly at the startlement to be seen upon Rilas. She had looked upward at the males as I named each of them, and had frowned somewhat at the manner in which Mehrayn had gazed upon me.

“The last of the four is S’Heernoh, one who travels far from the land of his people,” I continued, bringing Rilas’s attention to the tall, gray-haired male. “Though warrior skills are not among those he possesses, he has become a true companion to us all, providing aid and information which no other might have done. Should he learn to curb his amusement at those things which fail to bring amusement to others, he may well remain living among us a time longer.”

S’Heernoh showed his amusement then, as the other males chuckled, yet Rilas remained untouched by it. Her frown now rested upon S’Heernoh, composed in large part of puzzlement.

“In some manner do you seem familiar, male,” she said to him, her eyes seeking to plumb the depth of him. “And yet, the thought of lack of warrior skills does not seem equally familiar. Have we met in the time gone past?”

“Never before have I been given the honor of being presented to you, lady,” said S’Heernoh, smoothly. “Should such honor have been mine, I would surely have recalled it.”

“Perhaps,” said Rilas in a mutter, her thoughts clearly upon the past, yet were there others about whom her curiosity had not yet been satisfied. Those Aysayn had urged to join us now stood a short distance beyond the set we had formed, and her eyes went to them.