A Quick Sun Rises (29 page)

Jne ducked again and then crossed her swords in front of her and down as Naye brought up her other sword in an attempt to gut her. Turning to the side as she did so, Jne kicked the other woman in the midsection pushing her back and then followed after her with her own complicated windmill of slashes and reverse directional cuts and undercuts. But Naye was undeterred as she met each swing with her own steel often turning it back with an attack of her own.

Around and around they went, puffs of dust rising in the morning sun as each moved their feet to the rhythm of the dance. Sweat began forming on both women as their exertions, matched by the heat of the rising sun began taking their toll on their bodies. Both looked for advantage with the early morning rays but up to this point neither was caught by the blinding sun. Having been locked away for ten days, Jne felt the strain from the effort more quickly but the other woman’s age seemed to equalize the difference.

Catching a sudden opening, Jne was able to pull a thrust and catch Naye in the face with her elbow drawing blood from her opponent’s nose but paid for it when one of Naye’s swords connected with her forearm slicing into the flesh just enough to draw blood but not so deep as to cause her to drop her weapon. Jne cursed herself for being drawn in knowing now that the supposed opening had been a ploy. She also knew that it was only her decision to attack with an elbow instead of a sword that allowed her to draw blood on Naye and actually possibly saved her life, otherwise the cut would have been in a different spot and most likely fatal. Both stepped back for a brief moment for a quick survey of the damage done to each before throwing themselves back into a hailstorm of steel.

Quicker and quicker the strokes seemed to come until it appeared that neither could possibly see nor react to the swing of the other. Only instinct born from years of practice could answer the question as to how either survived this far. Suddenly, Jne pulled back and the crowd roared with approval as a distinct slash along her right thigh revealed that one of Naye’s strokes had gotten through again. Jne had only a brief glimmer of time to assess her injury before Naye, smelling blood and victory, advanced with another blur of complicated swings and cuts that suddenly put Jne on the complete defensive unable to turn back quick enough to mount her own attack.

Jne gave up ground as Naye forced her back, her swords coming at breath stopping speed. Jne parried as well as she could but could tell that her reaction time was becoming slightly slower and that her mother’s blades were getting closer to meeting her flesh again. A sharp pain suddenly shot across her chest and she knew before the damp feel of blood registered in her mind that she’d taken another hit. Naye suddenly slowed her attack having felt the resistance of flesh instead of steel to her right hand. Backing a pace she inspected the damage she’d done giving Jne a quick opportunity to check for herself.

Just below her neckline a long streak of red was suddenly cascading rather quickly into her shirt where it mingled with her sweat. The strike had meant to take her head from her shoulders but Jne had been able to sidestep the swing just enough to make the sword miss its intended mark. Yet, still, it was a significant injury that would impede her ability due to blood loss if the judgment continued for too much longer.

Their eyes met briefly, neither showing any emotion yet both realizing that the verdict was almost all but decided. Raising her swords to the ready, Jne kept her eyes locked on her mother pausing only for a brief moment before moving quickly toward her, her swords already in motion. Naye watched Jne’s approach as if she would simply stand motionless and be cut down. Only at the last moment did she move catching either sword easily and then turning the fight back on her daughter.

Jne’s breathing was beginning to become more labored as the fighting continued, the minutes stretching out ever longer. Her wounds stung mixing sweat with blood though she had yet to reach the point where blood loss became a factor. Snapping her head back, Naye’s blade just nicked the bridge of her nose and would have blinded her had she not reacted so quickly. Having done so though, she was thrown of balance and just barely turned away the counter slash that Naye had meant for her midsection that would certainly have spilled her intestines had it connected.

Recovering with some difficulty, Jne attempted to turn the attack back and go, herself, on the offensive but Naye seemed too fast. Every assault was met and turned back making her slip into the defensive and barely giving her time to react, let alone attempt another attack. She was losing and she didn’t have much longer.

Strangely, even though this fight seemed already destined to end in her death, it exhilarated her at the same time. The power of arm against arm, steel against steel, and will against will was intoxicating even more so because her opponent seemed her better and that this was not a practice game where quarter would be given. Thane had cursed her with life because of his ignorance of honor and the effect it would have on her. Naye would not do the same and that knowledge made Jne strangely eager to see it through.

As she fended off wave after wave of slashing and jabbing steel, Jne found herself studying and finding beauty in the precision and exactness of Naye’s form and she caught herself smiling at the privilege it was going to be to die at her hand. Again and again her mother’s assault rained down on her, the clang of metal sounding almost like music as the tempo increased and waned. She found herself anticipating the sound, her movements settling in with the cadence that was a beautiful dance created by Naye as she moved about, her swords the instruments with Jne’s making the music. The melody was almost hypnotizing as steel rang against steel in a crescendo before falling away in a diminuendo. It was the most beautiful melody Jne had ever heard.

Suddenly, she felt a jarring in her ears, an off note that invaded the serenity of her imminent death that felt so dissonant as to shatter the peace that had fallen over her. Again the music of the swords began, this time becoming even more harmonious as she anticipated the sounds; the melody certain now in her mind as her swords moved against Naye’s adding her part of the symphony of death that had drawn her in.

This time the discordant sound was even more grating as Jne had caught up the rhythm and the harmony swinging her swords around as Naye continued her attacks. And again the melody seemed to restart and Jne suddenly realized what she had discovered. Naye had fallen into a pattern, the last part of which was an opening that she could exploit. She let herself drop back into the tempo waiting for the moment she was certain would come and wasn’t disappointed when the discordant sound grated at her senses. It wasn’t that Naye’s motions were exactly the same every time and being repeated, but the way she moved together with her weapons had combined into a pattern that had left itself open at a certain moment like the bad note of a repeated song—and this time Jne would exploit it.

Jne crossed her swords over her head almost before the overhand strike had come and then pulled the right one away to deflect Naye’s attack with her left. She stared at her mother with a look mixed of pity and triumph that Naye picked up on too late as she thrust forward with both swords at once. Jne pulled her eyes away as she stepped forward, ducking under the attack while raising her left sword to push it up. Carrying her motion around Jne swung counterclockwise giving her back to Naye while bringing her right sword around to place it squarely into her mother’s chest cleaving her heart in twain as the blade slid out her back. Naye realized her mistake just as it was happening, the look of pride and disbelief mingled on her face now set as her eternal death mask. Pulling her sword, Jne watched as her mother dropped to the ground knowing she was dead before she hit the dirt.

Jne stared at her for a moment, uncertain what her emotions might reveal knowing she had defeated her mother in judgment and that she now lie dead at her feet. She was afraid that there might be sorrow and regret knowing she had taken the life of the woman who had given it to her twice now but those feelings never seemed to materialize. She had beaten an opponent with greater skill than she yet who had fallen prey to comfort in her own skills.

The crowd suddenly erupted in cheers of approval as Jne raised her swords in salute, her honor now fully restored. Those who only moments before had shunned her as an outcast now greeted her as one of their own and would welcome her as a member of their family to their homes without the slightest reservation. Unable to repress the smile that broke out on her face she shouted, “I am Jne of the
Rena’ja
Tja.” Turning to each of the marks of the compass, she repeated her claim of heritage and honor as a full member of the Tjal people before turning back to her mother’s body. Squatting down, she wiped the blood from her sword on her mother’s pants before reluctantly sheathing them both. Her blood still pumped hot in her veins with the exhilaration of battle and though she was bleeding and tired, her hands still ached to hold her weapons.

There was no dishonor to herself or her mother by her actions and none would have expected any less. The spoils of battle and the laws surrounding them were very strict in Tjal society no matter what relationship there might be between combatants. Her mother was no longer there, only her shell remained, and nothing could be taken to the afterlife once one was dead. All her mother’s possessions now fell to her. Removing the sash that wrapped Naye’s waist, Jne moved to tie it around her chest to stop the flow of blood that was still seeping from the wound she’d received but a gnarled hand stopped her in the process. Looking up, she looked into the smiling face of the old woman who not too long before had been prepared to take her head.

“Welcome, child,” she said. “Let us tend to that wound properly before it bleeds you out or you catch the fever from it.”

Jne stood and nodded. “I would welcome that,” she said gratefully, “but first I must address all who are present.”

“Such things can wait, child,” the old woman persisted, reaching out to take Jne’s arm. “Come; let us see to you first.”

Jne did not reply but pulled her arm away and shouted to the crowd that was already starting to break away; most anxious to get their tables and wares out for the day’s bizarre, while others began moving away toward the lanes leading out. “Hold,” Jne called out and then repeated herself three more times before every eye was finally turned to her and a relative silence had fallen on the gathered crowd. “A shadow has grown in the north and now threatens as it moves south and east of us on its way to the old HuMan keep named Bedler. It is not a trifle to be left to HuMans alone for should they fall, and they will fall,” she added for emphasis, “we shall fall with them. I have come to warn and to call upon our people to action, to fight with the HuMans to defend against this great darkness that will surely encompass us all.”

A rumble of voices echoed through the throng as sudden discussions of her claims grew up in all parts. “You have been too long with the ilk of dishonorable HuMans,” one shouted to her though she could not lock on him from the multitude. “We do not meddle in the dealings of the HuMans.”

“This is not a HuMan matter,” Jne countered, “though they are the only ones engaged at the moment.” Turning about, to assure the attention of all present, she continued, the heat of the recent battle lending her added adrenaline and strength to argue her point. “Many days past I searched out my people on the northern plains to ask their aid as a great army descended on the HuMan fortress at Haykon. It was as if all creatures of evil breed had gathered together as one to sweep the land free of any and all things good.”

“And what concern is that of ours,” a voice interjected, “should the HuMans battle their enemies behind their walls of cowardice?”

“It concerns us when that same threat finally turns its evil upon our heads as it certainly has already,” Jne countered. “You are not hearing me!” she shouted, frustration growing. She did not come all this way to lose in the battle of mere words. She was one to act, not be acted upon. “Whether you feel there is justice in the wars of HuMans does not matter here. As I searched out my
Tja
, I found nothing but the signs of pitched and desperate battle and not a soul alive to tell the tale.”

Her last statement created quite a stir in the people listening and it was long moments before she dare speak again so that all might hear. Another voice spoke out before her. “That does not prove that we face danger. Do you know for a surety that none of your
Tja
remains?”

Jne shook her head. “I did not have the time to search the area or scout out survivors,” she admitted but added with gaining vehemence, “Do I hear that the Tjal fear to take up the sword to battle? Has Tjal blood grown so thin as to turn from a fight?”

A great shout of anger responded to her words and some had been offended enough to reach for their swords. Raising her hands, Jne called for quiet that came slowly and then not completely so that she was forced to shout above the din. “Along with an army of thousands, they have a wizard and giant creatures that rain death from the sky. I have seen and battled them myself. Their very skin is steel so that no sword can penetrate their hide while they breathe out death on all those who stand against them. It is such a creature that I am certain attacked my
Tja
, and if I am correct then there is very little hope that many, if any at all survived. This is the enemy that will overtake our own lands if we don’t act now to gather the Tjal-Dihn in to fight back. The remaining HuMan army marches for Bedler’s Keep where they make their final stand. Who will gather with me to give their life in head on battle rather than wait to be caught in their sleep and die in shame?”