An Oath to Mida

Through the corridor we moved, passing many doors, till at last we came to its end, where it moved through a doorless doorway and widened into a large cavern, wherein stood perhaps four hands more of females such as those who guided me. The females held sword and shield, facing each other in pairs, one of each pair attacking with sword the shield of the other. The smell of sword oil came clearly to me, that and the smell of sweat, and those who walked before me paused to look upon their sisters.

“It is here that we practice and perfect the use of swords, war leader,” said she who had spoken earlier. “We are proud of our skill, and proud to have you witness our efforts.”

“Pride should be kept for that which merits it,” I said, looking from one to the other of pairs of females. “They do well in attack upon shields, hacking and swinging in true abandon. Have they never been told that the object is to reach the flesh of she who stands behind the shield?”

“I—I do not understand,” stumbled the girl, her eyes again widened. “We have been taught to keep our opponents behind their shields, to prevent the use of the swords they hold.”

“Till one or the other of you falls from hunger and thirst?” I demanded. “What if you and your opponent hold no shield? Do you then attack an imaginary shield? Pah! True warriors are long blooded by your age, having both taken and lost blood in true battle. None here could hope to stand before the least and youngest of Hosta, not to speak of the puniest of males. Let us continue before I lose that which I have fed upon.”

The shaken female nodded, her lip atremble as though she held back tears, and we passed from that place into another corridor, one which led downward. Torches stood upon the walls in all of these corridors, burning steadily, giving the air a strange smell as though sunlight were unknown there. I felt a great anger within me, as though I had been gulled out of that which I had ever considered mine, yet I kept my mind to the odor of the air, my disgust for the male slaves, my impatience with those who dared call themselves warriors. The place was not one where unbridled thought was wise, not if I wished to ride free on my way again.

Three further hands of reckid were filled with walking, and then we came to a widening of the corridor which did not become a chamber. Of a sudden there were doorways to either side of the corridor, doorways closed off with lines of metal, much like those rooms in the dwelling of the High Sea of Ranistard. I could see, behind the lines of metal, males and females of the set with which I had traveled, males to the left, females to the right, three to each enclosure. The females sat huddled together with sobs much in evidence, the males stood with fists clenched in anger, yet all broke off their doing at my appearance, coming forward to stare in silence. As my eyes swept them the females shrank back with gasps, they having noticed my guides and the slaves who dogged my steps. The males growled low to each other, displeased at what they saw, yet I cared little for what they thought. It was others I had come to find, and those others were not far. Four enclosures farther on, I found those I had been seeking.

Unsurprisingly Telion, Lialt and Ceralt were enclosed together. Ceralt lay upon furs, cloth bound about his body, his face pale from loss of blood, yet he lived. Wounded and unconscious, prisoner to those about him, yet his life had been reclaimed. Lialt sat by his side, ever vigilant for the least change in breathing, the least stirring of limbs, his face lined from lack of sleep. Telion sat apart from the two, back against a wall, knee up to support an arm which in turn supported his head. At my appearance Lialt and Telion looked up, then rose quickly to their feet to come to the metal.

“Jalav, where have you been?” demanded Telion, circling two lines of metal with his fists. “We thought you taken and forever lost!”

“And yet, here I stand,” said I, meeting the male’s eyes. “Mida wished to speak with her warrior, therefore was I taken from your midst. Her powers are strong for one who is only—how did you call it?”

“A superstition,” Telion ground out, teeth clenched in anger, light eyes flaring. “I see she has done well by the one who has ever remained faithful.”

“Perhaps not so well as all that,” said Lialt, eyes amove about me. “What caused those bruises upon you, Jalav? You seem badly used for one who is a favorite.”

“The bruises are naught.” I shrugged, stepping closer to the metal. “I see your wounds have been tended to.”

“Indeed.” Lialt nodded, his eyes continuing to hold to me. “Even Ceralt moves farther from the dark gateway with every breath he takes. Perhaps there is that in the air here which promotes healing.”

“Yet, it is not merely healing which we require,” said Telion, drawing my eyes. “We also require our freedom, Jalav. Is there naught a favorite of the goddess may do to accomplish this? Have you forgotten so soon how close a bond we share?”

His voice had softened with the disappearance of his anger, and abruptly one hand left the metal to draw me close, while the other moved to caress my breast. Much did I expect my flesh to melt and harden at his touch, just as he expected the same, yet the expected did not occur. My flesh remained as it had been, cool both without and within, and after some reckid, Telion removed his hands from me in confusion. I, too, had no understanding of what had caused the change, yet the meaning was clear: no longer was my flesh slave to any male who touched me, no longer theirs to do with as they pleased. Perhaps it had been the touch of Sigurr, shriveling my senses as well as my soul; should that be so, it was the one thing for which I might feel well pleased.

“Apparently the bond no longer exists,” Lialt observed, searching for signs that he was in error. “I feel sure, Telion, that she has not come to free us.”

“You are correct,” I said, stepping back farther from the metal. “We are destined to meet again, male, yet the time will be when you, too, are able to take weapon in hand. Jalav has not forgotten your doings, nor shall she ever forget them. Should you wish to see what the future holds for you, look here.”

I turned from them then to the male slaves I had brought, gesturing them to their knees before me. With my finger pointing downward I bade them press their heads to the floor, clearly marking them as slaves chained to my bidding. I looked again upon Telion and Lialt, who stood behind the metal thin-lipped with rage, and smiled a smile of challenge.

“Such is the fate which you shall find, should we ever meet again,” I informed them. “When that one awakens, give him the greeting of Jalav, war leader of all the Midanna, and bid him return to his simple village and the life he once knew. Jalav shall see to the coming strangers with warriors of worth, warriors who well know the spilling of blood. Should we ever meet again, there will be swords drawn between us.”

I ordered the slaves to their feet again, then turned and walked away, much aware of eyes upon me. Telion and Lialt had been warned away, and Ceralt, too, would be given my message. I felt anxious to be about the work before me, yet felt, deep within me, the loss of the male called Ceralt, he who had come to mean so much. Not again would I know his arms about me, not again would I feel the ecstasy of his touch. Were Mida to discover my true feelings for the male, his life would be taken as easily as it had been saved. My life was Mida’s, as was my sword, and naught in all the world would take me from her service save death, which, I knew, would not be easily attained. I retraced my steps up the corridor, my hand arest upon the silver hilt of my sword, knowing death—and peace—would be difficult to find indeed.