For ten days and nights, the mixed band of Arctrans and nomads traveled together without incident. Each evening, when camp was made, the cementing of the new friendships continued - skills passed back and forth between groups. The Arctrans shared the written word and the stories of the Nine; the nomads shared bits and pieces of the old speech, small examples of their healing arts. In training and sparring, the two groups grew to know one another well. The nomads admired the armor and eloquence of their companions; the Arctrans seemed stunned by the stamina of the Wild Ones, who rode no horses and yet kept pace with them all day. Slowly, the camps began to intertwine, following the example laid by their respective leaders who, each night, slipped away to make their own bed in privacy beneath the moon as she waned.
The night they entered the mountains, just two days away from the main rebel encampment, the Arctrans learned something new about the Wild Ones - they did not like to be so close to the heart of their Goddess. They camped closer together that night, and even Conall had difficulty in persuading Liayna to sleep. But with the encouragement of their new friends, the nomads did settle finally, the silence of the mountains falling over the little encampment. Away from the rest of their companions, Conall and Liayna slept, sated of passion in one another's arms, protected from the cool ground by the furs they lay upon, watched over by the waning moon as she climbed to her zenith and began to descend, slowly, toward dawn.
All seemed peaceful. But seeming is not reality, and there was one loose end they had not considered might attempt to unravel what had been woven in the past days. Sent on ahead, humiliated and steaming with jealous fury, Reena had been all but forgotten by the lovers as they journeyed north. But she had not forgotten them. Determined to have her revenge on them both, she had left the main encampment mere hours after arriving there, retracing her steps alone in the hope of finding her company and putting an end to the woman who had ended all her own hopes. As the smallest hours of the night darkened, she crept past the camp, seeking out Conall and his witch, a blackened blade steady in her hand.
And there they were, as naked as the day they were born, the witch woman she so hated lying in the arms of the man Reena had sworn would be hers. That unblemished back faced her, vulnerable, an easy target, but she wanted to feel the knife go in, to see the life drain out of Liayna na'Kari's eyes. So she crept closer, until she crouched over the pair. Her eyes swept possessively over Conall, focusing furiously on the warm arm that embraced her prey. The knife rose, black against the dark sky, and plunged toward Liayna's unprotected back.
It might have been merely luck that woke Conall just before dawn, or it might have been instinct. In the days to come, there would be whispers among the nomads that perhaps the Goddess has whispered a warning in the night. There was no way of knowing for sure, but whatever it was, something disturbed the man's sleep, and he woke just in time to find the a figure crouching over them, blotting out the sky, one arm raised menacingly, a knife poised ready to strike. Without a thought for his own safety, only for that of his lover, he threw his body over hers to protect her and knock their assailant to the ground.
There was no way Reena could have pulled out of that deadly strike, even as Conall forced himself over Liayna to protect her. The blade sank deep into his shoulder, despite her best effort not to hurt him, yanked out wildly as she stumbled and fell back. "Conall ....gods, Conall, I didn't -"
But Liayna was already moving, woken abruptly by the swift movement of her lover, infuriated by the smell of his blood on the still air. She slid out from beneath him, one hand throwing a handful of the fine earth into Reena's face as she charged the jealous woman, knocking her back onto the rocky ground.
Conall growled in anger and pain, clutching at the wound in his shoulder that was already spurting blood. The blade had gone deep, tearing through flesh and muscle. Though he knew it was coming, it still took him by surprise, and before he was able to stop her, Liayna was already moving to defend herself and her lover against the intruder. "Reena, what the-" He broke off as Liayna moved past, as swiftly as a lioness attacking her prey. "Liayna!" he shouted, hoping to stop her before the two women killed one another. He moved to his feet, but it seemed as though he was mired in quicksand, and he knew he was already too late.
It should have been a foregone conclusion, the outcome of that swift, deadly altercation. The one woman armored, armed, alert; the other naked, unarmed, fresh woken from sleep. Yet as the two bodies rolled on the ground, it was difficult to see what was happening in the grasp and push of their hands on one another. Until Liayna suddenly rose onto one knee, Reena's hair in one hand, Reena's blade in the other, and sliced her jealous rival's throat in one swift motion with her own weapon. Their attacker gasped just once, in a burble of liquid death, and slumped to the ground, the threat she posed ended at the hands of the woman she had intended to kill.
Conall shouted at the women, horrified by what was taking place in front of him, terrified they'd kill each other, but unable to do anything to stop it. It was over quickly, far too quickly for him to react. Even if he hadn't been injured, there would have been little chance he could have intervened without risking his own life or making things worse. Even so, he knew what the outcome would be before it was over. He knew Reena had made her last mistake, and she'd pay for it with her life. He had seen blood spilled plenty of times before, but never quite like this, and while he felt sickened and grievous at the girl's death, had Liayna not been the warrior she was, he might have been grieving her death, rather than Reena's.
Breathing hard, Liayna knelt still for a long moment, sickened by the fact that she had been forced to kill a woman whose only crime had been to reach for what she could not have. Then, with a gentleness that belied the savagery with which she had fought, she cradled Reena's body in her arms, laying the dead woman down against the ground, drawing her hands to her waist, straightening her legs. The bloodied blade was wiped clean on the scrub, and set within the stiffening grasp; the open wound at the throat was gently concealed with the collar of the woman's bloodied shirt. Gentle hands closed the unseeing eyes, and Liayna's voice rose quietly in that haunting lament for the dead and the one who had killed her.
The night they entered the mountains, just two days away from the main rebel encampment, the Arctrans learned something new about the Wild Ones - they did not like to be so close to the heart of their Goddess. They camped closer together that night, and even Conall had difficulty in persuading Liayna to sleep. But with the encouragement of their new friends, the nomads did settle finally, the silence of the mountains falling over the little encampment. Away from the rest of their companions, Conall and Liayna slept, sated of passion in one another's arms, protected from the cool ground by the furs they lay upon, watched over by the waning moon as she climbed to her zenith and began to descend, slowly, toward dawn.
All seemed peaceful. But seeming is not reality, and there was one loose end they had not considered might attempt to unravel what had been woven in the past days. Sent on ahead, humiliated and steaming with jealous fury, Reena had been all but forgotten by the lovers as they journeyed north. But she had not forgotten them. Determined to have her revenge on them both, she had left the main encampment mere hours after arriving there, retracing her steps alone in the hope of finding her company and putting an end to the woman who had ended all her own hopes. As the smallest hours of the night darkened, she crept past the camp, seeking out Conall and his witch, a blackened blade steady in her hand.
And there they were, as naked as the day they were born, the witch woman she so hated lying in the arms of the man Reena had sworn would be hers. That unblemished back faced her, vulnerable, an easy target, but she wanted to feel the knife go in, to see the life drain out of Liayna na'Kari's eyes. So she crept closer, until she crouched over the pair. Her eyes swept possessively over Conall, focusing furiously on the warm arm that embraced her prey. The knife rose, black against the dark sky, and plunged toward Liayna's unprotected back.
It might have been merely luck that woke Conall just before dawn, or it might have been instinct. In the days to come, there would be whispers among the nomads that perhaps the Goddess has whispered a warning in the night. There was no way of knowing for sure, but whatever it was, something disturbed the man's sleep, and he woke just in time to find the a figure crouching over them, blotting out the sky, one arm raised menacingly, a knife poised ready to strike. Without a thought for his own safety, only for that of his lover, he threw his body over hers to protect her and knock their assailant to the ground.
There was no way Reena could have pulled out of that deadly strike, even as Conall forced himself over Liayna to protect her. The blade sank deep into his shoulder, despite her best effort not to hurt him, yanked out wildly as she stumbled and fell back. "Conall ....gods, Conall, I didn't -"
But Liayna was already moving, woken abruptly by the swift movement of her lover, infuriated by the smell of his blood on the still air. She slid out from beneath him, one hand throwing a handful of the fine earth into Reena's face as she charged the jealous woman, knocking her back onto the rocky ground.
Conall growled in anger and pain, clutching at the wound in his shoulder that was already spurting blood. The blade had gone deep, tearing through flesh and muscle. Though he knew it was coming, it still took him by surprise, and before he was able to stop her, Liayna was already moving to defend herself and her lover against the intruder. "Reena, what the-" He broke off as Liayna moved past, as swiftly as a lioness attacking her prey. "Liayna!" he shouted, hoping to stop her before the two women killed one another. He moved to his feet, but it seemed as though he was mired in quicksand, and he knew he was already too late.
It should have been a foregone conclusion, the outcome of that swift, deadly altercation. The one woman armored, armed, alert; the other naked, unarmed, fresh woken from sleep. Yet as the two bodies rolled on the ground, it was difficult to see what was happening in the grasp and push of their hands on one another. Until Liayna suddenly rose onto one knee, Reena's hair in one hand, Reena's blade in the other, and sliced her jealous rival's throat in one swift motion with her own weapon. Their attacker gasped just once, in a burble of liquid death, and slumped to the ground, the threat she posed ended at the hands of the woman she had intended to kill.
Conall shouted at the women, horrified by what was taking place in front of him, terrified they'd kill each other, but unable to do anything to stop it. It was over quickly, far too quickly for him to react. Even if he hadn't been injured, there would have been little chance he could have intervened without risking his own life or making things worse. Even so, he knew what the outcome would be before it was over. He knew Reena had made her last mistake, and she'd pay for it with her life. He had seen blood spilled plenty of times before, but never quite like this, and while he felt sickened and grievous at the girl's death, had Liayna not been the warrior she was, he might have been grieving her death, rather than Reena's.
Breathing hard, Liayna knelt still for a long moment, sickened by the fact that she had been forced to kill a woman whose only crime had been to reach for what she could not have. Then, with a gentleness that belied the savagery with which she had fought, she cradled Reena's body in her arms, laying the dead woman down against the ground, drawing her hands to her waist, straightening her legs. The bloodied blade was wiped clean on the scrub, and set within the stiffening grasp; the open wound at the throat was gently concealed with the collar of the woman's bloodied shirt. Gentle hands closed the unseeing eyes, and Liayna's voice rose quietly in that haunting lament for the dead and the one who had killed her.