Warprize

paused in the entrance, drawn by the noise.
    “Xymund, put down your weapons.” I moved forward, angry that he would attack Marcus. Marcus swore and moved between Xymund and myself. “Lara, you idiot, get back.”
    I stopped where I was, but Epor had other ideas. He pushed me back as he and Isdra interposed between me and the threat.
    Marcus held his hands to his sides and gestured for Xymund to come at him.
    “A cripple?” Xymund laughed. He lunged in, swinging his sword in a fierce arc. Marcus dodged in, blocked the sword and parried the dagger. Xymund broke away. Marcus danced back. Xymund came in again, thrusting his sword at Marcus’s body. But Marcus had already moved, and seeing that Xymund’
    s reach was extended, leaned in and cut him on his cheek.
    Xymund jerked back, shocked. Marcus moved to press his advantage, driving him back, away from me.
    “Marcus, be careful,” I called out, afraid for him. I would have moved toward them, but Epor and Isdra prevented me. “Xymund, in the name of the Goddess, please—”
    “I’ll kill you, bitch.” Xymund howled, like a dog gone mad.
    Marcus laughed and smirked at the sweaty and bleeding Xymund. He stopped pressing him and backed away. Marcus struck his chest with his fist, clearly defying Xymund, daring him to attack. What was he thinking? Xymund was bigger and stronger. Why didn’t Epor help him?
    Xymund glared at Marcus, panting and dripping blood. “I will kill your servant, and kill you where you stand, you miserable whore.”
    Marcus’s face went flat, the one eye narrowing. He’d recognized the word ‘whore’. The atmosphere in the tent changed. Marcus was no longer playing, his stance and attitude changing subtly. Xymund seemed to feel it as well. He tightened his grip on his weapons and crouched lower. Suddenly I understood that it was Xymund in deadly danger, not Marcus.
    From outside came the sounds of horses, lots of them galloping to a halt outside the tent. Some of the guards by the door stepped out to confront the newcomers.
    Still, I pleaded, “Xymund, stop this. Whatever you feel about me, remember the peace. Your oath demands…”
    Xymund snarled and attacked Marcus viciously. His face was distorted, eyes bulging and mouth twisted. He rushed in, sword slashing at Marcus’s face. Marcus parried with a kind of contempt, catching the blades with his daggers, he moved in close and spat in Xymund’s face. Screaming in rage, Xymund reared back and instinctively lifted a forearm to clean his eyes. Marcus saw his chance and took it, striking the sword from Xymund’s hand. One dagger dug into Xymund’s neck, the tip of the other rested just above his groin.
    Xymund froze.
    Marcus chuckled. “Warprize, tell this fool to kneel.”
    Xymund’s eyes swung wildly about the room as I repeated the words. “I will not kneel to a servant and a whore.” His eyes landed on mine. “I am your king, enthroned and consecrated. You cannot call for my death.”
    The entire outside wall of the tent fell, revealing Keir, Simus, and his men. Lord Warren was there as well, along with some of the lords. They were all standing and staring at Xymund with hate in their eyes. Keir’s voice came, cold and sharp. “I can.”
    Marcus’s grin got sharper and the blade of the dagger moved to press a bit deeper into Xymund’s neck. Xymund slowly lowered himself to his knees. Marcus allowed the lower dagger to trail up Xymund’s jerkin till the point rested at his heart.
    “Marcus,” Keir growled. “Don’t kill him.”
    Marcus snorted. “Give me a good reason, Warlord. This pig is not worthy to die on your blade and, with all due respect, the warprize couldn’t kill for her nooning if she were starving and there were fowl aplenty.” Not for one minute did Marcus relax the blades pressed against Xymund’s throat and chest.
    “Marcus.” My voice cracked. “Marcus, his own people must try him, must find him guilty, must know what he has done… Marcus, they must know—otherwise everything Keir wants to achieve will be lost. Please…”
    Marcus sneered and leaned in on Xymund. “The only thing that saves you now are the words of the Warprize… she who is honored before all.” Xymund may not have understood the words, but he certainly got their meaning. His eyes blazed hot as Marcus stepped back. Epor and Isdra moved forward, ready to secure the prisoner.
    As the tent filled, I turned and smiled at Keir. The stiffness in his back eased, as his