Sharon Green: The Will of the Gods

I awoke in the thick, enveloping darkness of the room, at first convinced there had been movement near me, after a moment allowing that the movement must have been Mehrayn’s, tossing about upon the furs beside me. The male’s sleep was uneasy, perhaps by cause of the words of disagreement he and I had spoken in the dwelling of Aysayn, he who was called Sigurr’s Shadow. It had been necessary to speak those words over and again, with Aysayn and Chaldrin as well as Mehrayn, and still the males refused to abandon their stand. I had, at last, refused to discuss the matter further, which had silenced the males yet had not moved them from their stubborn stance. Fool that I was, I had first spoken of the matter myself, therefore could blame no one else for the difficulty. Though reluctantly, I had known many males of late; I knew it was likely they would attempt to interfere with the doings of a warrior.

The darkness was cool and comfortable, bereft of the heat which would reappear with Mida’s light. I lay upon the fur I shared with Mehrayn, feeling only comfort from its silky softness against my body, relieved that no intruding presence threatened. My sword and dagger were not far away, but the continuing presence of much drink lay even nearer, in my head and body. Had it been necessary to defend against intruders I would have done so, yet not with all of my usual skill. We had all of us drunk much of the drink called falar, that which was nearer unbrewed daru than the renth of city males, though none of the Sigurri males had had as much as I. As I was to depart with the new light, and alone, the males had insisted upon the sharing of falar, each cup, as they said, a prayer to Sigurr to watch over me upon my travels. I had not told them that their god cared naught for this warrior save for her use, for the doing would have been idle. I had, instead, accepted each cup given me, baffled by the surprise of the males when I continued to accept them. Falar had more presence than renth, yet less than brewed daru, that which warriors drank. I had agreed to take as much of the falar as I was able; did they believe I would give my word and then be forsworn?

I sighed as I turned toward Mehrayn where he lay, seeing the deeper darkness of his back, able to see no more than the broadness of it, none of the corded muscle which rippled with his movement. So strange were males, these Sigurri even stranger. First it had been the males of Bellinard, a city to the north, then the males of Ranistard, even farther north. Ceralt and his Belsayah, Hannis and his Neelarhi, the male god Sigurr and his fighters, and now his Sigurri. Bellinard had fallen to my sister clans of Midanna, whom I led as war leader; Ranistard held those of my own clan of Hosta and would fall in its turn when the Midanna were free to ride against it. Ceralt, by now surely healed, had returned to his Belsayah, and perhaps led the Neelarhi as well, in the absence of Hannis. Sigurr dwelt among his fighters in undoubted pleasure, for I had raised his Sigurri to stand with the Midanna against the coming strangers, just as he had demanded. I had but one further thing to see to before I might return to my warriors who held Bellinard, a thing demanded of me by Mida herself. It was this thing which upset these Sigurri so greatly, yet in Mida’s name I was unable to fathom the reason for such upset.

I, who am Jalav, was first war leader to the Hosta clan before my sisters were taken by the males of Ranistard. This capture was allowed by the goddess Mida so that I might lead the other nine clans of sister Midanna against Bellinard with none to say I favored one clan above the others. It was necessary that I do naught to free the Hosta, and though my soul writhed in agony at that lack of doing, I was not able to refuse the will of Mida. Strangers came to our world who were enemies to Mida and Sigurr, and the goddess and god demanded that their warriors face these strangers and best them. Nearly all of the Hosta carried the quickened seed of males within them, and would therefore be unable to stand in battle with us. I planned to lead my warriors against the strangers and then see to the males of Ranistard, but first the nine enemy clans of Midanna must join us.

Mehrayn stirred again as though in discomfort. That I rode with the new light to claim the war leadership of enemy Midanna had been an outrage to him, and he—and Chaldrin-had insisted on accompanying me, although I tried to convince them that they would be more burden than aid, that their lot among Midanna would be harsher than the lot of a female temple slave in their city, the lot of a female slave in Chaldrin’s domain, the Caverns of the Doomed. I had not mentioned my own fate were I to lead free males to the home tents of Midanna, therefore they did not know what would befall me. To say my life would be forfeit would be an understatement. These strange Sigurri accepted my warriorhood and my ability with weapons-when other males did not—and yet insisted on standing with me where their presence would be a burden. Strange enough was the willingness of a male to stand beside a warrior, stranger still that he sought not to take from her those privileges which he demanded for himself. Strangest of all, however, was the way they demanded to be allowed to add their blades to mine, as though I were brother to them or they sister to me. That I had freed Mehrayn from slavery in Bellinard and had fought beside Aysayn and Chaldrin in the Caverns of the Doomed did not seem ample reason for males to do as they did. All warriors know males as being beyond reason, and beyond gratitude as well. Aysayn and Mehrayn looked upon me as a messenger from their god, Chaldrin, as the sole being who had bested him at blades; these, perhaps, were the reasons for the behavior of the males, but it still seemed odd.

“Why do you not sleep, wench?” Mehrayn’s deep voice came suddenly, held low so as not to challenge the darkness. “Had I as much falar within me as you have within you, it would be feyd before I awoke.”

“Falar is not like daru,” said I, speaking as softly as he, my hand reaching to the dark shadow of his arm. “Had it been brewed daru I swallowed, I might well be insensible.

Was I not sufficiently awake and aware during your devotions?”

“Indeed you were,” said he, chuckling as he turned toward me. “With the removal of your life sign, your sufficiency is beyond question. You do not mean to deny me that sufficiency for a final time, I hope? I await the new light with thoughts of no other thing than my devotions.”

“Dark Sigurr is surely pleased with your piety,” said I, finding great pleasure at the touch of his hand upon my back, beneath my hair. “Mida, too, will be pleased that you no longer mean to impede her warrior. The home tents of Midanna would allow you no devotions, yet would you be used to the glory of Mida-again and again and again. The use you had at the hands of my warriors in Bellinard would be as naught in comparison.”

“Were all Midanna as-sufficient as you, I would give myself to them with eager anticipation,” he murmured, drawing me into his arms. “I will miss you sorely once you have gone, and more than that; already do I feel your absence. Will you join me upon my altar when the new light arrives, or do you mean to deny me a last taste of you?”

“Such a taste might be had now, here upon these furs, rather than with the new light upon your altar,” I murmured, feeling the nearness of him begin to heat my blood. So broad and hard was the male, so warm to my hands which stroked his back, so alive to my bare body pressed to his. I, too, felt the gap his absence would bring, though I would not mind the emptiness when my life sign hung about my neck once more.