Summoning all the courage I can muster, I wrench away, turn to Diira. She kneels for me to mount, and I am painfully aware of all the mocking eyes observing my helplessness as I climb into the saddle. My licorneir stands. I feel unnatural on her back, bulky and uncomfortable in this tough leather armor, and wonder all over again if I should have refused to wear it. It’s not as though it will make any difference in the end.
Vellara,Diira sings sternly,I will not let you fall.
I know,I answer, trying to disguise the doubt in my tone.I know, Diira.I draw a long breath, turning in the saddle to look at that battleground.You must help me face this foe. You cannot carry me away from here. Do you understand? It will not serve Taar or his people if I flee. You must be brave, and you must help me to be brave.
A hot flame of resentment surges through my licorneir’s song. Diira only repeats:I will not let you fall.
I suppose this is all the compliance I can hope for just now.
Resisting thevelra’sdesperate attempts to pull me back, I guide Diira between the waiting Licornyn riders, passing too closeto Kildorath for comfort. His gaze burns a hole in the side of my head, but I don’t choose to look his way. Instead I keep my focus fixed ahead on that tall Tarhyn warrior. Diira picks up her feet, trotting out into the field. My opponent and Lathaira ride out to join me, meeting in the center.
The chieftain looks down her broken nose at me, her lips curved in a cruel smile. Then she raises her arm and speaks in a loud voice that all observers may hear. Her words all Licornyn, but I can guess at the general gist:May the will of the gods be made known. Decisively. With this human’s blood and guts.
Lathaira and her daughter both turn and ride back toward the opposite end of the field, leaving me alone in the middle. I blink, uncertain what to do. Sylcatha faces about once more, however, and her mother, rejoining the ranks of observers, raises her sword above her head.
It’s starting,I realize.When she lowers that blade—
I don’t have time to finish the thought. Lathaira swings her arm down and, in the same instant, Sylcatha’s licorneir launches forward. I have only just enough awareness to notice that it has not bothered to burst into flame. I’m not worthy of such effort.
Diira, by contrast, immediately erupts in a raging inferno. She half-rears, snorting sparks from her flared nostrils, then charges forward as well. Her form is collected, her head tucked, power evenly distributed through her body. Even in battle frenzy, she does not forget her long years of training and experience. I grip hertightly with my legs, myvaritarblade drawn and at the ready. The heat of her battle flame is intense. I wish I could believe it would be some protection against what is coming.
Sylcatha leans in the saddle, her sword arm thrown back. Is this the first attack Taar tried to describe? Now I wish I’d let him finish. I ready my own sword in defense but am uncertain how to block such a blow. At the last possible second, just as our mounts pass each other, Sylcatha swings her weapon, and I realize that I am about to be decapitated, right then and there.
Diira pivots. I have just time enough to hear her warning song in my head and strengthen my grip before she performs a maneuver which no horse could ever hope to achieve. Her hooves slide, her great body shifts direction, and she glides me smoothly just under the scythe of Sylcatha’s blade. I hear the whistle of steel passing far too close, and know in my heart of hearts that I should be dead.
Carried on by pure momentum, Diira gallops on to the Tarhyn side of the field. I catch an eyeful of murderous faces before my licorneir rolls back, facing Sylcatha and her mount once more. The other licorneir is still unflamed, though I catch a little flicker of fire running up its shoulders.
I adjust my grip on my blade. I know I don’t have a prayer of surviving this encounter, but at least this time, when we make a pass, I’ll try to get a swing in. Diira initiates the charge, quicker than a gust of wind. Fire streams behind her in a comet’s tail, heat licking harmlessly across my skin. Her song is a wild thing,glorious and terrible. I let my soul sink into oneness with it. What a wonder it is, this bond we share! For a heady moment the miracle of pure being fills me, carries me into a disconnected space outside of time, outside of fear, outside of pain or death or blood.
Then I’m back. Back in the saddle, back in the reality of life-and-death, bearing down on Sylcatha. She urges her mount into motion just before we meet, and her sword comes down hard. I manage to get my blade up in defense, while Diira, roaring like a lion, lashes out with her horn, cutting deeply into the flank of the other licorneir.
The beast utters a shriek of furious surprise and finally bursts into flame. The wave of its rage rolls over me, and were it not for Diira’s own protective fire, I feel how completely that rage would incinerate me, right here in the saddle.
Now we’ve done it,I think.Now it will skewer me on its horn as soon as it catches up.
As though responding to this thought, Diira puts on a burst of speed. No longer collected, she stretches out her neck in racing form, her long legs eating up the turf. I see Kildorath and the other Licornyn at the edge of the field, driving their mounts together as though to form a barrier. Their shouts reach my ears even above the roar of Diira’s flame:“Stop! Turn back!”
But Diira does not slow. She bursts between them, leaving behind the staked-out field and streaking out into the wilds of Cruor, away from the onlookers, away from the encampment, away from the looming Tower of Tarhn.
Diira!I scream into her head, more angry with her than I ever would have believed possible.Diira, turn back!
I will not let you fall,she sings back in a voice of volcanic frenzy.
No! This is not what Taar needs! We have to finish what we started!
But my licorneir is beyond reason. She gallops on, not slowing but rather putting on speed. She is without equal among her kind, fast as a bolt of lightning. And she knows too well the death that awaits me if she allows herself to be caught.
I turn to look back under my arm. Sylcatha is in hot pursuit, her now-flaming licorneir barreling after us across the empty plain. Diira is much faster than that great beast, however, and swiftly putting distance between us. I feel that yawning distance and, worse still, the tautness of thevelracord as we leave Taar far behind. This is going to hurt him. I’ve seen what happens when thevelrais strained too tight. I will not let him be made vulnerable out here where the danger is so great.
Diira,I sing,turn around now.
She tosses her head, snarling a wordless refusal.Protect, protect.The meaning pulses in her heart.I must protect, I will protect . . .
I close my eyes and for a moment see Ashika in my mind. The dead warrior, lying broken and alone beneath the merciless sky of Cruor. Diira cannot forget what it felt like to be Nyathri, to lose her heartbound rider. She cannot forget what it was to be hearttorn. She cannot bear to endure that pain again.
But this is not the way. I have a fate to meet this day, like it ornot. And no one, not even Diira, can stop me.
I let go. Relax my muscles, release my grip—and drop.
