Warlord

trouble. You used what was at hand to distract the enemy. You fled to where there was help, and positioned yourself where your defenders could protect you."
    I had forgotten. I'd whipped that jar of boiled skunk cabbage right at that warrior-priest's face before I'd fled. I sat up a little straighter. "I guess I did."
    Marcus gave me a nod. "Teaching you to fight is enough to make a gurttle laugh. But teaching you to defend yourself, to respond under attack and get yourself to safety, that can be done." I shook my head. "Marcus, I froze when I found Iften hovering over Keir with that dagger. I didn't have the sense to scream."
    "Fear." Prest spoke as he concentrated on his task.
    Rafe nodded, even as he honed the edge of his blade. "Fear holds you still when you need to move, and moves you when you need to be still."
    "Fear makes you silent when you need to be loud and loud when you need silence," Ander said, almost reciting. I wasn't surprised; Prest had taunted Iften with a teaching rhyme back at Wellspring. It seemed they used them a lot for teaching purposes. Which also didn't surprise me—since they had no written language, everything was memorized, and their ability to do that was amazing.
    "Fear closes your throat, makes it hard to breathe. Fear weakens your hand and blinds your eyes." Marcus took up the chant. "Fear is a danger. Know your fear. Face your fear." I waited a breath, but when it was clear they were done I broke the silence. "But how do I do that?" Prest turned his head, and smiled at me, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. "Practice." I should have kept silent. This warrior-princess routine was uncomfortable, sweaty, and exhausting. We had been waiting to join the army at the very rear of the march. Keir had that little-boy smile on his face when he'd told me that I'd be moving to the rear of his forces. I was fairly sure that he wanted to make sure that he gave me my first glimpse of the Plains.
    Since we were waiting anyway, I'd asked my guards to teach me to use a sword and shield. I'd thought it would be easy; after all they handled their weapons with grace and skill. Easy to say; hard to do.
    We spent the rest of the afternoon as the army passed practicing. Each of my bodyguards would play the attacker, and then I had to work with the others to protect myself. Marcus stood back and watched. When it looked like I knew how to handle the situation, Marcus called out for Prest to die, and Prest obligingly fell 'dead' at my feet.
    So I learned to move with my protectors, trying to stay out of their way, and be constantly aware of the threat I was under. Marcus was a strong believer in action as opposed to talking. When I got too tired, we'd stop and talk for a bit, get a drink of water, so that I could catch my breath. The others never even broke a sweat.
    Finally, as the sun was setting, Marcus 'killed' all my body guards, and I was facing my 'attacker' alone. Prest grinned at me as he lay dead at my feet. I looked over at Marcus, who stood there with two daggers, threatening me. "Now what?"
    He tilted his head under that cloak, and glared at me. "What can you do?"
    "I don't know!" Frustrated, I glared back at him.
    Ander had managed to 'die' face down, and looked like he was taking a nap. "Look for a weakness," he whispered to me.
    Weakness? Marcus had already proved he was deadly with those daggers, so what weakness did he have?
    Marcus rolled his one eye at me.
    Oh.
    I darted over to his left, trying to get into his blind spot. But Marcus just pivoted to face me, keeping me in sight. I stopped, frustrated. "What good does that do?"
    "Keeps him moving, keeps him from throwing his daggers," Yveni responded. She was laying on the ground, chewing a piece of grass, watching the perimeter. Rafe was seated a distance away, watching in the other direction.
    "You could try rushing him, getting him to move away from you. Use our bodies to try to trip him up," Ander offered.
    "Throw things," Prest added. I looked at my satchel on my hip, and nodded.
    "You must take advantage of any weakness." Marcus gestured at his face. "Mine is my blind side, Warprize. If you can blind a person with one of your mixtures, do it. It may be all that stands between you and death. Yes?"
    "I will, Marcus."
    "More important, if all your guards are down, where else can you look for help?" Marcus growled. I eyed him nervously. I still remembered the 'lesson' he'd given me before, when he'd overborne me to the