Warlord

headed for them, bellowing his challenge.
    They split, darting each to a side. Greatheart followed the man.
    The woman headed for me.
    Air rushed into my lungs, but I stood frozen, my cloak gaping open in the front. Her teeth flashed, for I was alone and naked, an easy kill for a warrior. She trotted toward me, her blade ready, her eyes gleaming out from the tattoos that covered her face. Eyes filled with confidence and victory. In that instant, rage flooded through me.
    I heard Keir screaming behind me as he realized my danger, heard a wet 'thunk' as Greatheart reared up and kicked his foe in the head. But my focus was on my attacker, and the anger that filled me. She was going to kill my baby.
    She took a few steps closer to me, then paused, almost as if she bore good news. "You meet your death well, Xyian," she laughed. "I grant you—
    I brought Iften's dagger out from under my cloak, and rammed the blade into her throat. She was startled, too surprised to use the last moments of her life to attack me. Dancing back out of reach, I pulled the blade with me.
    She gasped, dropping her knife and falling to her knees. I took a few more steps back and watched calmly as she put her hands to her throat to try to stop the blood. My healer's knowledge told me it wouldn't aid her.
    Nothing could.
    As she crumpled to the grass, I turned to see that Greatheart had the man down and under his hooves. My old sleepy warhorse was making sure of that threat by trampling the body to a pulp. I moved further away from the dying warrior-priestess and focused on Keir. He'd tried to come to my aid, but Iften had blocked his move. They both realized that I was safe in the same moment, and Iften howled out in anger and frustration. Keir snarled, and the battle between them was rejoined. But now there was a new desperation in Iften's eyes as they clashed. Even as I wondered how long this could go on, Iften charged Keir, trying to ram him with the shield. Keir dodged out of the way, but as Iften turned to face him again, Keir struck his shield, his sword biting deep. The blade caught in the wood.
    Iften whooped in triumph, bringing his sword to bear. Keir blocked with his free sword and then twisted the other.
    Twisting Iften's arm.
    The bone broke, a clear snap. The shield dropped to his side and Iften's howl became one of pain as he staggered back. Keir let go the trapped sword, and swung the free one up. There was a spray of blood as it caught Iften's neck; his eyes bulged. He dropped his sword and lifted his hand to his neck, as if to stop the flow.
    Keir plunged his sword deep into Iften's chest, and withdrew it in one swift move. A few staggered steps, and Iften collapsed at Keir's feet.
    "Keir!" I ran a few steps toward him, but Keir shook his head. I stopped, waiting, trying to catch my breath. Keir stood over Iften, breathing hard, his sword steady. A thin stream of red ran down the blade, falling on Iften's body.
    Iften was face up, his eyes open.
    I held my hands to my chest, feeling my heart pounding within. "Is he?" Keir waited a moment longer. Slowly, carefully he knelt next to Iften. Warily, with the other sword poised for an attack, Keir pressed his hand down hard on Iften's chest.
    I held my breath.
    "Dead." Keir's voice held a note of satisfaction as he rose. I threw myself forward, running into arms he opened wide. Our mouths met and we kissed, desperate for each other's touch. Seconds later, we broke it off and I stared at him in horror. "Marcus!" I turned and ran back toward the tent, where Marcus had fallen. Keir was just behind me. But there was no body. Just a bloody smear in the grass and a path of blood—
    Headed for his tent.
    I looked at Keir, almost afraid to move. His face was just as grim. He reached out and took my hand. We moved quickly, following the bloody trail. Through the grass. Through the tent flap. Marcus was on the floor, curled on his side next to his pallet. My satchel was there, open, its contents scattered on the floor.
    Keir knelt, eased Marcus over and pulled him into his arms. I dropped my dagger and threw myself down next to the little man, my hands reaching for the wound.
    "W-Warprize." Marcus's one eye opened as he stuttered my name. He stared at me, wide-eyed, clearly in shock. His hand was pressed under his tunic, blood all around the area. His tunic was filthy, covered in dirt and grass.
    "Marcus." I reached down to peel back his hand, terrified at what I would find. Only to stare