Warlord

for the hem of the cloak. He caught it and jerked. I stumbled back, jerking the cloth from his hand. But he was now between me and the tent where Keir lay. Iften's teeth gleamed as he snarled in satisfaction, his lips stained with brown spittle. I darted off, straight away from the shore. The cloak flared out, the ties pressing into my throat. I risked a backward glance to see Iften's fingers just miss the hem. I used what spare breath I had for another scream, a warning to Keir. But the only response came from behind, an answering cry from one of the horses.
    Iften hit me then, and bore me down to the ground. I rolled, coming up with my face to the sky, with Iften trying to pin me to the ground. He sat on my hips, and pinned my right arm under his knee, pressing it into the dirt. The cloak had fallen open. I was naked and that made his touch seem even more revolting. My breath fled as his full weight came to bear on me. I had one hand free, but Iften grabbed it with his crippled one. There was still strength in that hand. I struggled to pull free as he waved the dagger before me, still dripping with Marcus's blood.
    "So now, Xyian," he hissed, his eyes the merest pinpricks. "I save the Plains and my people." Iften raised the dagger to strike, aiming for my chest.
    Something thundered up from behind him. Iften hesitated for but an instant, but it was long enough—
    Long enough for Greatheart to appear, and bite deep into Iften's shoulder. Iften screamed in rage, his dagger falling from his fingers.
    My horse, my sleepy old brown horse, almost seemed to growl, and then wrenched Iften off me with a jerk of his head. Iften was dragged back, far enough that I was freed. I fumbled for the dagger and scram bled to my feet to see Greatheart swing Iften off in a half circle, so that the horse ended up between me and my attacker.
    Greatheart released his hold and danced back, snorting and tossing his head. Iften's face was a grimace as he came to his feet. Cursing, he reached, and pulled out a sword. He took a few steps in my direction, but Greatheart snapped at him, then neighed in defiance.
    There was an answering roar from the direction of our tent as Keir emerged, running at full speed. Iften's attention shifted then. Cursing, he unstrapped a shield from his back, and jammed his crippled arm into the straps. Keir raced over the grass, swords in both hands, clothed in naught but white trous. In horror I watched, clutching my cloak around me as I realized that Iften was armored, and that Keir had none. But Keir never paused in his charge. He closed in, swiping at Iften with first one blade then another.
    Iften dodged, using the shield to fend off the second attack. He grinned, and there was madness in his eyes.
    Keir stood there, eyes cold, swords poised before him. His chest heaved, the bruise on his shoulder still evident. Iften's muscles twitched, his teeth bared, glaring at Keir. For an endless moment, they circled one another in silence, graceful and deadly.
    Keir attacked.
    Iften parried the blows with his shield, giving some ground before lunging forward with his own blade. Keir evaded it and once again they faced each other, each waiting for the other to make a move. I gripped the dagger in my hand underneath the cloak, but I knew better than to try to interfere. Marcus had taught me to stay out of the—
    Marcus. I looked back toward his tent, but I could see no sign of him. The clang of swords drew my eyes back to the fight. Greatheart still danced between me and the warriors, almost as if he was trying to herd me away.
    Iften raged like fire; Keir was cold as ice. I caught my breath when I saw Keir's eyes, intent on his opponent. There'd be no mercy here, no talk. This would only end with Iften's death, even if Keir died with him. I swallowed any protest, any warning. There was no point.
    Keir's jaw was clenched as his swords moved in front of him, almost daring Iften to charge him. Iften was cagy, advancing with his shield held high, trying to get close enough to jab. Greatheart neighed a warning. The big horse charged past me, behind me—
    I turned, to see two warrior-priests, a man and a woman, emerging from the waters of the lake, scrambling onto the shore. I froze, terrified. Time seemed to slow.
    They moved fast, their matted braids swaying as they ran toward me. Dressed only in their tattoos and leather trous, the water poured off them and the blades of the daggers they held. Greatheart was past me and