Sharon Green - The Will of the Gods

The light was not yet at its highest when Nobain chose three of his males to ride from the set. It was not possible to hear what words were spoken to them, yet was I able to see their nods of agreement, and the manner in which each took a different direction. The hunters of the fey previous had not chosen separate paths till after they had left the set, but that seemed unimportant. The balance of the nilno would feed the set at light’s highest, yet would the heat turn any unfed-upon rancid and inedible after that. The set required a fresh kill for the darkness, one I meant to see they did without. With grim pleasure I, too, turned from the path of the set, and sought the trail of those who had ridden elsewhere.

Much did the heat of the fey touch me with the slickness of sweat as I rode through the forest, following the track of the first of the three. The male rode with little care, looking only for provender, heedless of predators. Much sign was there all about that lenga prowled those woods, causing me to keep bow in hand and shafts within easy reach, yet the male either saw not or cared not. Large was the lenga, and beautiful even in the eyes of those it hunted, its long, silky fur highly prized by males of town and cities; nevertheless was it swift and terrible in attack, its claws and teeth difficult to avoid, often taking down those who hunted it even as it died. The male who rode some distance before me had strung his bow, yet was it across his back rather than in his hand, easily reached should prey be sighted, not so easily reached should he become prey. Many males were fools in the forest, I knew, and these gray-clad males appeared to be greater fools than most.

Movement ahead of the male caught his attention; he reached for his bow, but his prey was quickly gone, leaving him with bow in hand and naught to do with it save grasp its well-bound grip. Angrily, then, did the male put heels to his kan, sending it forward again in search of that which would stand and hold its place till a shaft reached it; instead did my shaft reach his back, knocking him from his leather seat as the life flew from him with a grunt.

Startled, his kan leapt away into the forest as he who had been of Nobain’s set lay face down and unmoving, the red seeping out to cover him, the shaft I wished the return of standing unbroken from his flesh. That the deed I performed was distasteful was of no moment; sooner would I have faced each of the males with swords, yet I had not the time to offer them mock warrior courtesy. They, being males and naught of the true warrior sort, would have soiled the gesture, likely angering Mida yet further. I slid from the back of my kan and tied it to a tree. Best would be to reclaim my shaft quickly, before the scent of spilled blood drew the lenga to the place, then continue on to the next target for my bow.

I crouched beside the slain male and applied my dagger to the flesh about my shaft, digging deep to free the metal head, attempting to work as quickly as I might. A lenga screamed not far off, voicing its hunger and boasting of its presence upon the hunt, and I shook my head with impatience.

“Neatly done,” said a voice from very near, causing me to look up quickly up. A male stood with drawn sword less than two paces from me, one of the remaining two who had been sent from the set by Nobain. Not so tall as others was this male, yet were his shoulders and chest broad, his arms firmly muscled, his body prepared for attack. Light of hair and eye was he as well, the light eyes of him happily taking me in.

“More than neatly done,” said he, gleefully, his point not far from me where I crouched. “Follow after, plant a shaft, retrieve the shaft, then continue on to the next. The beasts of the forest will see to the body, and should the remains be found afterward, there will be no indication of attack. Nobain thought the others deserters, yet did he clearly do them an injustice. They did not desert, they died, and had I not been set to watch the two who hunted for us this fey, again would we have been misled.”

The male chuckled at his own words as though he discussed the fate of those who were his enemies rather than brothers. His gaze continued to move all about me, seemingly pleased and amused at that he saw.

“It was clearly the will of the Serene Oneness that certain of us lose our lives,” said the male, “and yet are we to be compensated for that loss. Though the loss was small, no more than men clumsy enough to fall to a female, the compensation will be truly sweet. It amuses me to see a wench draped in a weapon of men, nevertheless shall you remove that swordbelt and step away from it, leaving the dagger as well. I will taste you quickly, and then shall I take you to Nobain, who will surely find interest in an addition to our collection. Take yourself from that carcass, wench, and do as I have bidden you.”

Truly eager was the male for that which he intended, so eager that he stepped the nearer, bringing his point closer to where I crouched. My dagger moved swiftly in an arc against his blade. I had intended to drop my dagger and draw my sword, yet the male, far more alert than I had anticipated, jumped forward, bringing his sword very near. Never before had I faced a sword with a dagger, and although I again beat aside his sword, the male chuckled. He, as well as I, knew I could not long keep myself untouched with only a dagger, but I was not allowed to arm myself further.

Closely did the male press me as I moved about among the trees and bushes, his point seeking to disarm rather than slay, yet unavoidable for all of that. My dagger moved without stop, keeping his sharpened metal from my flesh, the frustration growing as sharp within me that I was able to do no more than defend. The heat of the fey brought the moisture forth from my body, rolling it into my eyes to burn there, but it affected the male as well. Remorselessness showed from his eyes as he continued to press me, seeking to strike the dagger from my hand or score my body seriously enough to disarm me, in no manner willing to be denied my use, most especially not by allowing me escape. It was his intention to take me as the others had been taken, my intention to keep from being done so. Too often had I been made slave to them; not again would I be forced to such use, not while breath remained in my body and strength in my arm.

A hand of reckid passed with the sword of the male pursuing me, the blade of my dagger flashing goldenly in the occasional shafts of light which found their way through the leaves above. I had discovered the difficulty and strain of constant backing, yet had it proven impossible to merely take a stand and hold it against attack. The blade of the male’s sword struck hard against my dagger, causing both weapons to sing, his effort an attempt to break my blade and thereby disarm me. The shock of the contact flared through my arm, causing me to once again curse the strength of males, yet no more than that occurred. Much did I believe that another weapon would indeed have snapped at the calculatingly delivered blow, a weapon made by mortal hands and skill; the blade I wielded was goddess-made, and clearly proof against such destruction. The spirit within me soared at the thought, so high that I briefly attempted attack upon the male, yet was the attempt without possibility of success. My considerably shorter blade was laughingly struck aside, a sharpened metal blur sprang from my wrist, and again defense was my sole recourse.

It came to me of a sudden that I no longer moved in Mida’s cause, in truth that my actions were contrary to the most basic beliefs held by Midanna. For one who had been given a task by Mida to turn aside from it to aid others, even sisters, was to spurn the will of the goddess. Had I thought Mida angered with me previously, how might she now be considered?