Warsworn

and relief, Yers was there as well.
    "Her filth strikes deep, and leaves its taint. Even a child of her own lands falls victim to her corruption. A child that carries the corruption now within her!"
    This remark was met with scowls, a negative reaction that surprised me, Iften saw it too, and hurried on. "Keir of the Cat has brought this upon us, by bringing his Xyian into our midst. He is to blame for what has happened here, and he must answer for it." Iften was shouting now, spittle flying from his lips.
    Keir had not yet pulled his sword, but I could tell that he was prepared, a cat about to leap upon its prey. My heart seemed stuck in my throat. He'd not refuse this challenge but—
    Iften pointed his sword at me, his face full of disdain. "Gils had the new knowledge of healing and the elements killed him because of it. Epor was curse—"
    A scream split the air, freezing the blood in my body. Isdra launched herself from behind my shoulder, her face a snarl, Epor's warclub in her hands.
    Iften moved fast, his sword out and his shield up to meet the blow. But he'd been facing Keir and Isdra's attack forced him to shift slightly to meet her. What precious moments she gained Isdra used, the warclub a blur of motion in her hand. The blow fell on Iften's forearm, and I thought I heard the crack of bone.
    Everyone scattered, trying to give them room, forming a loose circle around the fighters. It was a large circle, showing a healthy respect for the reach of those weapons. Isdra never paused, never let up, pressing Iften with a series of blows to his shield. She had eyes only for her target, grim and calculating.
    Keir stood, unmoving, watching the fray. Yers was standing next to him, his sword in his hand. Marcus was slightly behind Keir, his gaze scanning the crowd for any threat. Prest was behind me, and Rafe stepped to stand in front of me, a little to one side. They too were tense, but they did no more than place their hands on their weapons and wait. I clutched at Rafe's shoulder. "She's smaller…"
    Keir understood. "He insulted her bonded," was his soft reply. Iften was bigger, his sword flashing in sure strokes that surprised me. But he seemed to have the use of the arm still. Isdra parried, the blade skittering off the metal studs that lined the top of the warclub. She seemed to move well, but she was breathing hard. Iften, in contrast, seemed able to stand where he was and wield his weapon with ease. His face was triumphant. He fully expected to kill Isdra.
    Isdra's next blows hit Iften's shield dead center, with Iften grunting under the impact. Iften would wait, lunging at Isdra each time he sensed that she was vulnerable. But each time she danced back, away from his blade.
    Iften smirked, and lowered his shield. "You are no Epor, woman." Isdra's grim face never changed. She took a step and swung for Iften's knee. Iften moved, dodging that blow. But Isdra somehow used the momentum to take a step closer, and drove the handle of her warclub into Iften's jaw.
    Iften's head snapped back. He staggered, dropping his shield. Isdra cried out in satisfaction, taking another swing at his unprotected head and connecting.
    Iften crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
    Isdra swung the warclub high over her head, as if to crush Iften's skull. "For Epor!" She shouted, and started the blow.
    "STOP." Joden stepped forward.
    Isdra caught herself in mid-strike. She glared, her chest heaving, never taking her eyes off Iften's unmoving body. "Who dares?"
    "Do not kill him, Isdra of the Fox." Joden took another step forward.
    "He insults Epor, my bonded, the first to meet the enemy and the bravest of all that have died in this battle." Isdra spat out her words, trembling with anger. "He held no token of mine, or any other." Her anger shifted. "It is my right, Singer!" The crowd shifted, uneasy. I glanced at Keir, but he was intent on the drama before us.
    "The skies are clouded, Warrior, and full of turmoil." Joden stepped forward. "I do not know the truth in this. So I will claim Singer status long enough to declare Keir's illness is in the nature of a war wound, although the enemy is one we have never met before." Joden turned to look at the crowd, seeking out the warleaders. "As such, he is not to be challenged in the field, and remains Warlord until we reach the Plains. It will be a question for the Elders then." Relief flooded through me. There'd be no further chal-lenge from Iften or any other, at least until Keir had his