Warsworn

woman had battle experience, but this was her first time under Keir's command. Yers had given them both praise and Isdra told Keir she could work with either one. Marcus hadn't had anything negative to say, other than his usual complaints.
    "But this position requires one who is sharp of skill and wits. Who can both attack and protect. So, I have decided to change the rules." That brought quiet, as everyone leaned forward, intent on Keir's words. He smiled, his dark hair shining in the sun. "Marcus. Rafe." Marcus and Rafe moved to stand together, back to back, with something in their hands. They each paced out five steps, and then knelt to press something into the ground.
    "Hear now the rules for this combat. Behind each warrior is a horsehair braid, tied between two stakes, a hands-length above the ground. The goal is to cut your opponent's braid. Do you understand?"
    Ander and Yveni both considered the ground as Rafe and Marcus moved away. They studied the stakes and the braids, and then took positions in front of them, facing each other. Sal was to judge the combat, and she stepped forward at Keir's nod. "Are you ready, warriors?"
    They'd barely nodded when Sal cried "Begin!'' They sprang forward, their blades clashed, the crowd roared, and the fight was on.
    They were both using swords and shields and moved so fast I was sure to miss something if I blinked. The location of the stakes restricted their movements. While there was no formal circle, the warriors never wandered far from their braids. Keir and I were seated on a bit of higher ground, giving us a better view. Rafe and Prest were behind me, Isdra at my side, watching with a careful eye.
    Iften and the Warrior-Priest were off to one side, also using the rise to their advantage, but making sure not to come close to Keir and I. The warrior-priest had a sullen look, but Iften seemed to be awfully pleased with himself, almost happy. I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a better look at his arm, which was hanging loosely at his side. I'd been told that the healing had taken place, with the sounds of chanting coming from Iftens's tent, with clouds of purple-blue smoke billowing from the tent. But I couldn't get a very good look, with all the people in the way.
    The Warrior-Priest was unhappy because Keir had warned off the rest of his party. He'd told them to return to the Plains, bearing the message concerning what had happened here. By the time he'd crawled into our bed, he'd been hoarse from the shouting. But the messages had been understood, and they departed in haste from the area. Apparently warrior-priests travel with some kind of servants, who care for their needs. Being without didn't strike the wild man's fancy.
    In the morning light, my first impression still stood. The man wore only leather trous, and a ratty fur cloak. The colors in the tattoos were very bright, and I wondered how that was done. I didn't recognize any of the designs. And his hair! I thought it looked remarkably like a rat's nest, but I kept my opinion to myself. From the way people were standing upwind, he still hadn't gotten rid of the skunk smell.
    I forced my attention back to the fighting. Ander and Yveni moved, considering one another, each looking for an advantage. They'd exchange ringing blows, and then break off. To my eye it seemed they were evenly matched, with no one having a true advantage over the other. Ander seemed to have a bit more power behind his blows, but Yveni had greater speed. The fight continued, but my gaze was drawn back to Iften. Was it possible that he'd been healed? I looked back just in time to see the warrior-priest hand him something that looked like gurt, only brown in color. Iften placed it in his mouth, and started chewing. I stiffened. His right hand, his sword arm. He'd used it with no obvious pain, grasping the food with fingers that I'd seen swollen and numb. The same arm that Isdra had broken. How was that possible?
    THWACK.
    I flinched, and turned at the sound. Ander's sword had bit deep into the wood of Yveni's shield. He tugged hard, but the blade did not come loose.
    Yveni moved back, trying to pull the sword from Ander's hand. He followed, trying to rock the blade from its prison. Ander concentrated on his sword, never once watching his feet. She yanked the shield back again, dancing a few paces sideways. Ander followed, intent on his weapon.
    It was the laughter from the crowd that finally drew his attention, making him look up and take