She sets her jaw firmly, her nose upraised in that queenly bearing I’ve come to know so well. “My mind is made up, warlord.”
With that she turns Diira’s head about and faces Lathaira’s burning gaze. For a moment the two women simply look at one another, and I half-expect the air between them to ignite. Then Ilsevel declares in a loud voice, clear and bright and reverberating with her gods-gifted power so that all in that vicinity might hear: “Send forth your champion. I am ready to fight.”
17
ILSEVEL
Taar had the forethought to pack a set of adolescent Licornyn armor for me on the chance that I would be required to ride into battle. I don’t think either of us truly expected it would happen. Certainly not this early on in the campaign and facing a Licornyn Rider. The armor feels so uncomfortable on my body, I would almost prefer Taar’s style of riding into combat nearly naked and unhampered. But when I dare suggest that perhaps I’d be better off without armor, as I am so unused to it, the look of panic which flashes across my husband’s face is so stark, I instantly retract my words.
“Varitancombat is unlike anything you’ve learned,” he tells me, his voice lower than usual, as though to disguise the tension which vibrates through every thread of his being. “Tassa and I did not think to train you in its forms as we did not expect you to face mounted opponents. It’s not unlike the style of battle Iused against Lurodos, but it will be different, of course, because Sylcatha is riding a licorneir, not a reptant.”
I wish he would stop talking. He wants to cram as much information into my head as possible, even though he knows it’s hopeless. Truly hopeless.
“There are three basic attacks in thevaritanforms,” he continues relentlessly. “In the initial charge, Sylcatha will likely go on the offensive immediately and lead with one of these three. You will recognize the first attack by the way she sits in the saddle, with a distinct righthand lean, her sword angled back from the body for a scything stroke—”
I turn abruptly and put a hand over his mouth. We are inside a hastily constructed traveldakath, shielded from immediate view of his people, and I am grateful for this last small privacy. These are likely my final living moments, and I’m glad I can spend them in his presence, without hate-filled eyes bearing down on me from all sides. “Please, Taar,” I say softly, gazing up into his black eyes. “It’s no use. You cannot force your knowledge into my head, your instinct into my limbs.”
He breathes hard against my hand, then pulls it away from his mouth. “Diira,” he rumbles. “Diira will know. She has performedvaritanduels many times, with many riders.”
I nod, exhaling slowly. Sickness churns in my gut. “She will help me.”
But we both know the truth: no matter how profound the bondDiira and I share, it cannot make up for the ignorance of such an inexperienced rider.
Taar stares down at me, drinking in the sight of my face. I can feel the wild frenzy inside him which he only just holds in check. “Sylcatha is renowned for her prowess in thevaritanforms,” he says. Then he shakes his head. “I will contest the matter with Lathaira. I will demand some other champion be chosen, one of their younger riders. It’s unreasonable for them to require you to prove your worth in so uneven a competition.”
I could almost laugh. “Taar, it wouldn’t matter if Tarhyn Tribe had brought along a ten-year-old trainee on a pony. I, with my four days of practice, will still be outmatched. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
“Ilsevel.” He grabs my upper arms and speaks with terrible desperation. “You don’t have to do this.”
I meet his gaze steadily, unflinching. He could keep me here by force if he wished to. If he refuses to let me walk out of this tent here and now, what could I possibly do to prevent him? But, if I understood the meeting which took place between him and the Tarhyn chieftain accurately, it would spell disaster for all Licorna.
“What else can I do?” I answer softly. “Try to escape on my own? Ride with Diira into the depths of Cruor and live like an outlaw in this blighted world until I inevitably starve or perish for lack of purified water?”
“You could . . . return to your own world.” The words soundas though they’ve been ripped from some deep place inside him, causing internal bleeding as they come.
“Taar—”
“There is a Between Gate. Not one of our own—one the humans use to travel directly from their world to this, bypassing Wanfriel entirely.” Bitterness coats his tongue at the mere mention of this portal. But he finishes earnestly, gazing deep into my eyes. “Diira will carry you to it if you ask her, and you can leave.”
“But . . .” I drop my gaze to that place above his heart where theruehnarsigil gleams bright beneath his skin. “But you will remain.”
The sigil flares, and I sense the pain in his soul rippling through ourvelraconnection as though it were my own. “I cannot go with you,” he growls, speaking with sorrow, not anger.
“I know.” I place my hand above his heart, above the pulsingruehnar. “You must stay. You must see this through, oust the Miphates from the citadel and reclaim your world. And you cannot do that if I am gone from you, if our bond is strained by the distance of worlds. It will cripple you.” My gaze rises slowly but firmly, meeting his once more. “So. I will stay.”
“Ilsevel—”
“What will happen if I am killed in this battle?”
He closes his mouth tight, unwilling to answer.
“Please, tell me, Taar. I need to know the truth.”
When his face goes hard with refusal, I turn from him. He tries to hold onto me, and for a moment I feel how great his strengthtruly is, how impossible it would be for me to break his hold if he did not allow it to happen. At my resistance, however, he releases his grip, calling, “Ilsevel!” sharply after me as I march from thedakath.
Halamar stands on watch just outside, and I go straight to him. “What will happen if I am killed in the upcoming duel?”
His gaze shoots to Taar, who bursts from thedakathbehind me. “Don’t look at him,” I snap, and Halamar turns back to me sharply. I draw myself up straight. Only yesterday, this man named memaelar.I want him to recall that now, to look at me and see his queen. “Answer me truthfully, Halamar. What becomes of thevelrabond between us should I perish today?”
