Chapter 8 - Strangers
"Robin!" a man with sweeping black hair and tanned skin waved from the other end of the wide courtyard as Robin and Maeve trotted through the high, round-topped portcullis that led into the training area of the soldiers' compound.
If Maeve had thought the city of Southampton was a jewel of graceful architecture, she was truly blown away by the sight of the Council, to say nothing of the soldiers' barrack which was attached to it like an appendix and just as grand and impressive. From a quick outside overview of the two buildings annexed together into one mighty fortress of soaring white walls, Maeve could tell that the interior must be an intricately confusing maze of numerous winding stairways, long corridors connecting hundreds of rooms, broad hallways bathed by spanning windows, and many high-perched balconies overlooking the entire city.
Maeve felt like a tiny insignificant mouse amidst such grand towers of polished walls and exquisite style.
This was the Council of Southampton, but it looked like nothing less than the palace of a powerful emperor. The sight of it, as Maeve and Robin had ridden up towards it, had been utterly dizzying. Maeve had been especially awestruck by the duo of imposing marble statues that waited at the top of two wide flights of stairs, flanking a grand pair of double-oak doors and a facade of massive columns. Reflecting the sun with their immaculate whiteness and polished edges, the statues were that of a man and a woman, each holding a sword with its point resting on the ground between their spaced feet. Erected like two godly guardians, standing straight and proud, with their timeless gazes hovering down on whoever would step up and enter the Council, they looked like warriors of justice and truth, ready to strike down anyone unworthy of penetrating into such a sacred place.
Maeve had shivered under their impenetrable gazes, as if the gods and the spirits would pass judgment on the sum of her whole life the minute she entered the towering architecture in front of her, but Robin hadn't stopped his horse in front of the double flights of marble stairs. Instead, he had guided his faithful mount to a sideway entrance off to the left, shadowed between the giant columns, and guarded by two soldiers equipped with lances who had allowed them passage with nothing more than a solemn dip of their heads. Robin had then led his horse into the high-arched opening that plunged into a broad and dark tunnel, the end of which had erupted into the wide courtyard of the soldiers' barrack.
After the whirlwind of events in the morning, they had finally reached their destination, and Maeve was still oggling at everything around her like a child discovering the world for the first time; an intriguing world tucked away hundreds of miles from all she had ever known, filled with nothing but strangers and lurking dangers that were yet to be battled...
When she and Robin finally emerged into the courtyard, the sunlight of high noon welcoming them back under open sky and catching in her redhair like sparks of fire, stunned gazes immediately fell on them, with many elbows nudging close companions to draw their attention and whispers echoing amongst the people close by. It wasn't long before a little hush timidly fell on the crowd, althought there was so much activity bustling everywhere that the reactions of bafflement and wonder were only limited to the closest groups of soldiers, instead of rippling into the farthest sections of the compound.
Once again, Robin's stern glower and commanding presence was enough to send people back to their business, after which he dismounted and Maeve slipped down as well. Her feet had barely touched the ground when a man immediately trotted up to them to take the horse's reins and escort the animal to the stables, earning a wordless thank you from Robin while she appraised the courtyard in silent wonder.
Framing the buzzing activity of the soldiers, tall columns surrounded the entire length of the training compound, with occasional doors and corridors hiding in the shadows between columns on the side. Separated by one big flat landing, there were also two flights of white marble stairs that, Maeve supposed, lead inside the mighty Council and into the depth of its labyrinth. Minus the two statues that guarded the main front entrance she had seen on her way in, this looked almost like an identical copy, with the same soaring columns shielding an impressive pair of double oak doors. The wide stairway was also flanked by two portcullises, the right one being the one Robin had taken them through on their way in.
"Robin!" As the tanned-skin man who had first called out to Robin reiterated its shout a second time and slowly wove its way towards them, another soldier accosted Robin, but Maeve was too busy studying the pool of men before her to pay any attention to their conversation.
She felt like she was standing at the edge of a beehive. Sometimes dressed in their official, dark blue leather armour that, Maeve noted, impeccably matched the color of her new outfit, and sometimes wearing nothing more than simple practical garments, every single man was busy and absorbed in a specific task. Most were training in pairs and fighting with swords, knives, shields and occasionally long metal-tipped lances and spikes, but a great many were also practicing archery, shooting arrows into round targets hung on hay blocks all lined up on one side of the courtyard. A few little groups were also practicing hand combat, punches and kicks, and as for those who weren't wielding any weapons and not training at all, they were either busy transporting crates and barrels, inventorying food, sorting out equipment or repairing broken gears.
Amidst the vibrant activity, Maeve noticed that while some of the men looked like fierce experienced warriors, with strong shoulders and solid frames like Robin, others looked like complete civilians, clearly less familiar with the matters of physical combat. She reasoned that they must be the volunteers Simon had mentioned earlier, the ones the soldiers were training for the crossing of the Blind Mountains.
As her eyes keenly surfed on the faces of the many people she would be travelling with over the next month in the mountains, Maeve took note of the few women also participating in the numerous preparations. They were for the most part sorting out food supplies that ranged from bread, cheese and nuts to beans, fruits and vegetables, while others were taking care of blankets, bedrolls and other useful camp gear. They were clearly familiar with the whole process of the expedition.
When Maeve saw a soldier in his deep blue leather armor lower a crate of fruits to the ground and then slide an affectionate arm around the waist of a small slender brunette to share a tender look with the woman, Maeve reasoned that the women who were helping out were probably wives, sisters and mothers to the soldiers and the civilians who would be trekking to Denwood. With the crossing of the Blind Mountains that would take a whole month, and with the reconstruction of the destroyed village on the other side that would probably last even longer, Maeve figured that families didn't want to be separated for an unpredictable period of time and thus preferred to travel together to temporarily re-establish their lives with their relatives in Denwood. After all, Simon had said earlier that the volunteers had families in the distant village.
Then, with a sudden pang of growing concern, Maeve saw a few young children, no more than a dozen, scurrying around the women. Their mothers ushered them along, giving them simple instructions to carry out to help with the inventory. Most children were rather grown-up, but a few were no more than little toddlers.
They can't possibly be making the crossing, Maeve thought alarmingly. Robin had said the woods were perilous and deadly so surely these children would not be part of the trip and were just helping out along with their mothers?
But Maeve quickly realized it wasn't so simple...If entire families were making the crossing to help relatives in Denwood, without knowing when they'd be coming back to Southampton or even if they would be coming back at all, then the children would not be left behind. They would follow their mothers and fathers in the trip, even if the woods were dangerous. It was a risk worth taking for sparing toddlers the sad outcome of becoming orphans and Maeve reasoned their safety would be among the top priorities of the soldiers during the trek.
She suddenly understood why Robin seemed so on edge to be taking so many people across the Blind Mountains. Soldiers could take care of themselves, but civilians, women and children needed protection of the utmost importance. Maeve hoped that whatever threat was looming in the shadows of the woods would not harm these families. Lilian's words about how only a man out of three made it out of the mountains alive suddenly rang in her mind.
Studying the numerous military exercises, Maeve ran the fingers of one hand through her hair. The early afternoon sun, alone in the clear blue sky above, was droning down in the courtyard without pause, glinting off the clashing blades.
As she waited for Robin to finish his conversation with the soldier who had accosted him, and while they waited for the tanned-skin man to reach them as he wove his way through the crowd of busy men and women, Maeve's attention drifted to one peculiar spot to the left side of the training compound.
There was a woman there, one who singularly stood out from the fragile bearing of the other women in the courtyard.
Maeve narrowed her eyes in the harsh sunlight.
The woman was standing in the middle of a circle of men, a group of volunteers by the looks of their simple garments. Each in turn, they were lunging at her from all sides, resolutely trying to neutralize her and bring her down with rapid kicks, quick punches and strong hand grips they had come to learn. But as effortlessly as swatting a fly away, the woman was thwarting all their attempts and sending them sprawling to the ground.
With the dark color of her skin, almost as dark as Rongar but only slightly lighter, dressed in a tight black leather outfit from neck to toe which outlined every part of her feline body, she looked like a deadly panther. Agile and fast, she was flowing through the air like an expert dancer, her movements swift and always reaching their target with efficient precision.
But her hair was what caught Maeve's attention. Braided in a hundred tiny small tresses tied up in a high pony tail, the woman's mane was reaching past her hips and the tip was a flashy blood-red color that gradually faded upward to natural black, making it look as if her hair had been dipped in burning lava.
Astounded, Maeve watched as the woman's fiery braids whipped the air around her as she gracefully spun around to backhand one of her opponents in the jaw. Side-stepping, she then bent over and flipped her next attacker to the ground as he flew above her and when she rose back up, using her momentum, she kicked one more in the stomach and elbowed another in the nose.
The dance was never-ending. No matter the nature of the assault, she countered them all with steady stamina and skilled dexterity. Every move was calculated and finely executed.
"Robin!"
Yanked out of her thoughts as she felt Robin standing next to her, Maeve turned her head just in time to see the tanned-skin man, his black hair sweeping into his eyes, finally reach them. Three other soldiers were with him and came to a halt before them. One of them was Simon, the blue-eyed blond man she had met earlier in the streets of Southampton, his kind face flashing her a friendly smile.
"Boys," Robin dipped his head to greet them.
"Her hair is red…" Maeve heard one of the soldiers whisper in astonishment. He had a young face with inquisitive, keen brown eyes that peered up at her with stupor. The look was mirrored on the features of his companions, except Simon, who nudged the young man with an elbow to silence him.
Robin cleared his throat and extended a hand towards her to present her to his friends. "This is Maeve," he said, giving the men a pointed look that felt like a silent warning before he continued. "Maeve Kalleeryen. She just arrived this morning in Kalladrell and will be accompanying us in the crossing."
The three soldiers exchanged bewildered looks as smiles quickly spread on their faces, but they seemed to take on whatever silent command Robin had given them.
"Fine with me," the soldier closest to her declared, a very tall and large imposing man with a wide grin that wrinkled his small green eyes. He had dark blond hair half-tied up behind his head, lending him a scruffy disposition, and he had the rough stubbles and deep husky voice to complete the look.
"Aye, you'll get no objection from me either," the tanned man with sweeping black hair added with a grin that bordered on flirtatious.
"Welcome to Kalladrell," the young one greeted her with a bow of his head, his short brown hair sticking out on his head above his baby face adorned with two expressive eyebrows.
The three of them all beamed at her with stars in their eyes, their joyous and somewhat deferential reactions totally baffling Maeve.
Robin then extended his arm out towards his friends to reverse the presentations. "Maeve, this is Captain Simon Fraser, whom you've already met." Simon nodded politely to her, his blue eyes vivid against his pale skin and blond hair. "This is Leo Mason," Robin gestured to the young brown-eyed soldier who dipped his head again with a thrilled smile set in a row of perfect white teeth, "Mark Danes," he pointed to the scruffy big man next to her who also slightly bent forward in greeting, "and the cocky one here is Coop Cohen." Robin let his arm drop before the tanned man with the sweeping hair and the flirty grin. "My men at arms."
Maeve dipped her head at each soldier in turn and offered them warm smiles. "Pleased to meet you."
"Oh, not as I much as I am to meet you," Coop playfully replied, resting his hand on his bow as he looked at her with seductive charm. There was a slightly foreign accent when he spoke, which only served to punctuate his flirtatious demeanor.
Ignoring his friend's flirty comment as if he was used to it, Robin turned to Simon, serious matters back on his mind. "How is the training going?"
"Not bad," Simon answered, flipping the blade of his sword up on his shoulder. "They're learning faster than I expected. I wouldn't bring them hunting just yet, but when they come face to face with a Skinwalker in the woods at night, the terror might make their aim accurate."
"They can always pose as Ringers if it comes down to it," Leo proposed, his young face suddenly becoming mature and grave now that the subject was back on the ruthless implications of combat.
"No, I'm not risking their lives," Rodin shook his head grimly. "What of the provisions?"
"Almost done," Simon assured as he tilted his head towards the women sorting and inventorying the food. "Merchants should bring in the last loads at any moment and I've got men and women assigned to divide everything into smaller sets so that everyone can carry something."
Robin nodded satisfyingly. "Good."
As she listened closely to the exchange between the men, wondering just what on earth a Ringer and a Skinwalker were, Maeve's curiosity mainly anchored on the way Robin seemed to be in charge and at the center of all the operations concerning the crossing. Something felt oddly off about his implication and she couldn't quite place her finger on what it was...
The response to her silent interrogation came when a young lad with square shoulders timidly cut into the conversation behind them.
"General?"
Robin turned to him. "Yes, Owen?"
"We're running out of chimes. I made the inventory and there are only twelve left. We lost all the others in the previous crossings."
Robin wiped a hand across his face as he considered. "Alright, I'll have Dave bring in a crate of them as soon as I can."
Owen dipped his head and turned on his heels, while Maeve felt her jaw slack as she witnessed the exchange, the revelation of Robin's rank amongst the soldiers hitting her square in the gut. Her mind started reeling, as if she'd suddenly been splashed with a bucket of cold water. Her gaze settled on Robin's figure in speechless surprise, and the gears in her head began dismantling every part of his character she had come to know since this morning.
General.
He was not the guide of this expedition. He wasn't even a simple soldier in the army.
He was the General of that army.
All the little observations she had noted earlier about how the people in the streets always bowed their heads and smiled deferentially as she and Robin travelled through the city all suddenly made sense, every sign and clue slapping her in the face one by one. Robin was a public figure; people knew him, respected and revered him. He was the commanding head of Southampton's army, the sword and shield that protected them all.
General.
Maeve couldn't wrap her mind around the title. This was not some trivial information that could easily slip from one's mind, but Robin had deliberately omitted to mention this enormous detail to her, just like he was still witholding the truth about the real implications of her hair color here in Kalladrell. There was a cloud of secrets thickening around him, like a sinister storm lurking on the horizon. He had lied to her. He had chosen not to tell her, and there was something dark and bitter rising within her as she cast about to find the strenght not to lash out at him right then and there.
She chose to quietly glare at him instead as he stood uneasily beside her, the weight of her accusing gaze clearly ruffling his nerves. There was a slight squaring of his shoulders under his blue shirt as he drew in a breath, as if readying himself for a fight. He met her gaze squarely, like two blades clashing together, but the look in his hooded blue eyes, hard and pleading at the same time, unequivocally told her he would do nothing more than parry her blows, with no intention of engaging in battle. Not now. Not here.
Maeve felt her ire momentarily wilt away at the sight of him, looking guilty and sorry like a child caught with the hand in the cookie jar, but she glowered at him still, unwilling to let him off the hook so easily no matter his motives for lying to her.
When he knew she wouldn't snap at him with snarling teeth for the time being, he quickly let his gaze settle back on his companions, the four soldiers still standing before them and looking slightly puzzled by the wordless exchange that had just passed between them in the span of a few seconds.
"Coop, do you have a spare bow for her?" Robin tilted his head in Maeve's direction, the edge in his voice masterfully concealed.
"Can she shoot?" Coop frowned, a little dubious.
"Why else would I need a bow?" Maeve snapped a bit too harshly, crossing her arms over her chest as she finally found her voice and got a grip on her receding anger. She decided she would deal with Robin later.
"She can shoot, trust me," Robin guaranteed his companion with a confiding look.
"What's a Skinwalker?" Maeve asked more calmly, seizing the opening as her mind went back to the matters at hand.
Simon swung his blade down from his shoulder with a grim expression. "A deadly creature that roams the dark, packed woods of the Blind Mountains. One you do not wish to encounter."
"They're completely blind and hunt by sound at night," Mark added with a sour look, clearly despising the creatures' existence just as much as his friend. "They're fast, vicious and can kill three men with one slash of their lethal claws."
"Charming," Maeve said sarcastically, wrinkling her nose.
"Wait 'till you see what the Kawasseas can do," Coop said under his breath.
"The what?" Maeve frowned at the word.
"Kawasseas," Coop repeated. "The ancient Korellien word for 'mermaids'."
Maeve lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Mermaids. Right. In the middle of a mountain."
"Oh, they're real alright," Robin said, confirming his friend's description. "They live in a huge swamp the size of an inland lake about halfway through the mountains. One we unfortunately have to cross."
Maeve pressed her lips together grimly, assessing his words. "Any other particular creatures I have to worry about, General?" She cocked her head to the side and looked straight into Robin's eyes, making a point of biting into his title.
"I think that's plenty enough as it is," he replied, avoiding her intent gaze with a barely discernible cringe.
"Are my eyes playing tricks on me?"
Simon and Mark turned to the sound of the feminine voice behind them, making way for its owner.
It was the woman in black leather, with the tip of her hair dipped in lava.
Walking up towards their little group, she was eyeing Maeve like a tiger who didn't want to lose sight of a rare prey.
Shifting somewhat apprehensively at the other woman's approach, Robin extended his hand once again for a presentation and Maeve noted the careful edge in his voice. "Maeve, this is Leisa Ryan. Leisa, this is Maeve Kalleeryen. She's coming with us to Denwood."
"Is she now?" Leisa smiled a feline smile, one that would have been nothing but lethally provocative had it not been for the genuine, excited glint that shone in the woman's dark eyes as she looked Maeve over from head to toe.
"Leisa is a Radakeel," Robin explained as he glanced at Maeve with measured calm. "She belongs to a very ancient order of men and women specialized in the art of combat and defense. She's one of the fiercest warriors you'll ever get to meet in your life. But don't let her ruthlessness impress you. Once you truly get to know her you'll soon discover she's got a soft heart."
Robin smiled at the woman with playful respect, but Leisa's features remained emotionless, her dark eyes riveted on Maeve.
"She can do magic, too," Leo added excitedly as he boasted Leisa's many abilities, completely oblivious to the growing tension between the two women standing across each other.
"Really?" Maeve lifted an eyebrow as she held the Radakeel's gaze with equal tenacity.
"In a manner of speaking," Leisa corrected Leo, but she was addressing only Maeve.
"That must come in handy," Maeve observed dryly.
"You tell me." Leisa's eyes were like two radar points looking right into Maeve's soul, scanning her spirit inside out. "You're a sorceress, too, right?"
It didn't even sound like a question, but rather an outward verification. "I am," Maeve answered simply, holding the Radakeel's penetrating gaze.
"Good," Leisa smiled satisfactorily. "What about fighting?"
"I can take care of myself," Maeve returned her tight smile to the woman.
"We'll see about that," Leisa said with anticipation, the corner her mouth curving up in a challenging smirk. She somehow looked like she approved of Maeve's strong character. "How about a little warm-up? I'm tired of fighting youngsters who've never seen blood and death in their lives. I could use someone who has."
Robin suddenly cut into the invisible tension. "Leisa, now is not the time to-"
"Excuse me, General, I was talking to her," the Radakeel interrupted him, averting her eyes away from Maeve for the first time to silently warn the General to stay out of her way. She made it clear with a single glare that whatever business she was undertaking by confronting Maeve like this didn't concern Robin.
"Very well," Maeve declared, accepting the other woman's challenge both because her pride simply wouldn't allow her to decline, but mostly because it seemed to piss Robin off royally.
She had no idea how Leisa knew that she was familiar with death and blood. True enough, Maeve's towering height gave her the solid frame fit for a warrior, but that didn't necessarily mean she possessed rutheless skills in battle like the ones her opponent seemed to master. After the impressive display she had witnessed in the courtyard where Leisa was training many men all at once, chances were Maeve was going to get her ass kicked within seconds, but she would be damned if she didn't go down without a fight.
"This should be interesting," Leo observed candidly, his young face lighting up with anticipation as Leisa walked away towards open ground.
"Or disastrous..." Mark mumbled under his breath.
Palms growing moist as she began to doubt her abilities to best a Radakeel in combat, Maeve noticed how uneasy and agitated Robin was becoming by the second, his body pulled taut like a rope and ready to snap, as if a sense of protectiveness was steaming off his skin.
When she met his eyes, he sent her a warning look, but it was too late for her to back down now.
Silently, she followed after Leisa as she headed for the closest area in the courtyard that was somewhat clear of training soldiers and volunteers. Maeve eyed the Radakeel with intent sharpness, studying her every move and wondering what kind of game the woman was playing and what her real intentions for challenging her like this truly were. Whatever it was, Maeve was determined not to be messed with.
When her opponent stopped a couple of feet before her, Maeve appraised the dark-skinned woman with a stern look. Legs apart as she stood straight and tall, Leisa crossed her hands before her waist and unsheathed two short, slender black sticks from her belt, the wands shining like obsidian glass and Maeve heard the sound of deadly magic crackle in the air around each weapon as soon as they were in Leisa's hands.
With the wave of one wand, the Radakeel motioned beside Maeve. "There's a set of daggers on that bench."
Carefully, eying the woman with grim suspicion, Maeve walked over to the chair and removed her jacket from her shoulders so it wouldn't hinder her liberty of movements. She then grabbed the two long daggers and flipped them in her hands. "What are those?" she asked, pointing her chin at the curious weapons in the woman's hands.
Leisa smirked with a silent promise. "You'll find out soon enough."
Maeve's suspicion flared up in a flash. Whatever the weapons' purpose was, they were definitely powered by some kind of magic but she was unable to detect its nature. Whatever it was, though, she made a mental note to avoid interfering with it.
As Robin and his companions gathered closer to watch them, a mix of curiosity and dread etched in their features, the Radakeel began pacing in a circle. Maeve followed the movement but in the opposite direction, gripping the hilts of the daggers firmly in her hands. She would have preferred to fight with a sword but there was no way she would voice that preference to Leisa. Rongar had taught her how to wield daggers in combat and she had practiced with him for hours on end. Still, a broadsword would have made her feel a lot more confident.
As the two of them paced in a deadly circle, silently studying each other's movements and trying to probe their respective weaknesses and strengths, Maeve shot out the entire buzz of the busy courtyard from her mind, only briefly taking note of the little crowd that had gathered close to watch the duel under the drumming afternoon sun. The last person she caught sight of was Robin, his small eyes brimming with desperate concern. After that, her attention was entirely riveted on Leisa.
Putting an end to the pacing, the Radakeel finally faced Maeve, standing in a firm and solid stance, and dug her piercing dark eyes deep into hers.
Time seemed to stand still, the courtyard turning awfully quiet.
Then, like a panther, Leisa bolted towards her.
Maeve drew in a sharp breath, and the dance began.
Deflecting the sudden assault, Maeve felt all her muscles and reflexes twitch as her entire body braced itself for the continuous series of attacks. Every fiber of her being coiled and snapped as hot blood rushed in her veins, like lightning flashes igniting all at once at the heart of a raging storm.
Around them, the crowd watched as the two women dove into a frightening clash of colliding weapons that swung and blocked and missed and twisted and slashed. Dust rose at their feet where they glided and side-stepped and kicked and slid and swirled.
Every movement Maeve made was in fluid continuity with every one of Leisa's deflections and vice-versa. They were waltzing together in a duel of equal strength and dexterity, with unyielding determination.
Leisa's black obsidian wands were crackling with magic as they sliced the air in unison with Maeve's daggers, searching for a weak opening in her defenses, and Maeve thought they looked like twin black vipers trying to dig their lethal fangs into her skin.
It then occurred to her that this was the second time today that she was caught up in a fierce battle; first this morning with the caravan of thieves and now, not long past noon, with a Radakeel who looked quite intent on teaching her a serious lesson. Maeve hadn't even been back into the real world for an entire day and this was the second time she was risking losing her head, not to mention all the potentially lethal circumstances she would yet have to face starting tomorrow at dawn when the trek into the Blind Mountains would begin.
At this rate, Maeve thought as she deflected Leisa's expert slashes and thrusts, chances were she would be dead within the week, either torn apart by a Skinwalker or drowned by a Kawassea.
As Leisa's hands slithered in the air before her, the woman gave her a crafty smile.
"Not bad. Not bad at all," she complimented Maeve, sly satisfaction coloring her voice. "You're strong and quick, your footing is sure, your aim is accurate and your puspose is deadly." Leisa's twin weapons crackled with a dreadful vibrating sound as they cut through the air and the woman's face turned cold as ice. "But can you endure pain?"
Puzzled by the question, Maeve deflected an unexpected low slash towards her waist, but with one swift move, before she even knew what was happening, Leisa gripped her wrist, side-stepped behind her and twisted her arm behind her back. The Radakeel then rammed the tip of one of her black wand right between Maeve's shoulder blades.
Maeve screamed as white-hot searing pain exploded down her spine, as if the marrow of her bones was being twisted out of its core through breaking bone, tearing muscle and burning skin.
"Leisa!" Robin shouted wildly.
Tears stung her eyes. The blazing, excruciating pain was blasting through her entire body, all the way down to her toes and up to the very center of her mind. She couldn't think anymore. There was nothing but the unbearable, indescribable pain tearing her apart from the inside.
"Leisa!" Maeve heard Robin shout again, his voice hard and booming across the courtyard.
She didn't even realize she was down on her knees, wincing and gasping in terrible, horrifying agony. It hurt so much. The pain was reaching beyond any possible worldly limits.
Leisa stood above her, her features emotionless and merciless.
Breathing hard, with her chest heavily rising and falling and with her teeth gritted so hard they were threatening to crack and break, Maeve shook under the insufferable sting of the blinding pain.
"What the hell is that!" she managed to utter between violent shivers of maddening agony.
"This is a Sleyan," Leisa explained, still pressing the horrible weapon in Maeve's back. "A very ancient weapon designed to give pain to anyone it touches, or, on the contrary, to remove it. It can hurt or it can heal, at my command. I could burn your flesh and break your bones if I wanted to right now."
Maeve thought she had already done so. It felt as if her spine had been twisted and crooked by a giant pair of hands. She stifled another scream against the overwhelming pain.
"Leisa, enough!" Robin shouted for a third time, and Maeve could hear the commanding authority in his voice, tangled up with desperate distress just below the surface. She wished he would come to her rescue, yet she would never forgive him if he did.
Leisa twisted her arm further behind her back and Maeve cried out.
"I'm just checking what she's made of, General," Leisa called out to Robin but her words were clearly intended for Maeve. "We're not about to frolic through a bunny-filled meadow; we're crossing the Blind Mountains. We need to be sure she won't run in the face of danger."
Trembling, feeling like her back was being shred to pieces, Maeve glared up at the woman towering above her as beads of sweat formed on her brow as she shook. "I won't."
Leisa leaned down to bring her ruthless dark eyes close to Maeve's face. "Prove it."
Maeve's breathing was ragged and clipped. She was shaking all over. It felt as if the sky itself had crashed down on her, crushing her with its infinite weight. The deft pain in her spine was spreading to her chest and her heart was violently trashing in her ribcage like a snake caught by the head. Her world had narrowed down to three simple things. Pain. Terror. Madness.
Then a dark thought struck her.
She was going to die. This was where it all ended. She would die here in Kalladrell, on this forsaken, faraway island with grandiose architecture and strange people with cryptic behaviors. She would draw her last breath among a bunch of complete strangers she barely knew.
The pain was everywhere. On her burning skin, her tearing muscles, her breaking bones, even into the very core of her soul. Maeve wanted to die, to let death claim her with its peaceful void of darkness. Anything to escape this insufferable hell.
"Come on, prove it!" Leisa shook her, her horrible weapon still pressed between Maeve's shoulder blades.
As the pain besieged her completely, tearing her body asunder, Maeve's mind went to Sinbad, to that place in her heart where he had dug an endless hole and filled it up with broken dreams. His blue eyes danced in her blurring vision, like a flickering candle casting light in the shadows. She would give anything just to see him again one last time before everything went black. She would do anything just to catch a glimpse of his familiar face, just to hear her name whispered on his lips...just a glimpse, just a touch...
Her heart longed for him so much it hurt, like a hammer pounding iron in a blazing, angry forge.
It hurt more than anything else.
No pain, not even the unearthly shockwaves of agony coursing through her entire being at the moment, could match the longing in her heart for Sinbad, for this man who had crawled under her skin so deeply she could never pull him out.
That's when Maeve felt the core of her spirit jolt.
The pain was everywhere, clawing at the last shred of her sanity like an hungry wolf. It was in her flesh, her bones, her core, her heart.
But it belonged to her.
The heavy fog of numbing soreness that weighed on her mind suddenly seemed to slowly dissipate as her thoughts tumbled back into place clumsily. The rest of the world looked like it was emerging from a thick black veil of mist all around her. The sun was drumming on her head. The small pebbles of the courtyard's ground were digging in her knees. The soldiers and volunteers gathered around the fight were holding their breath. Robin's hands were fisted at his sides, helpless and stoically raging, as he waited apprehensively for the outcome of the daunting duel he couldn't interrupt.
Even as lucidity returned to her slowly, the reality of the physical pain became all too lurid as it roamed down her back and Maeve had to clench her jaw hard. That brutal and savage pain was the only thing standing in her way now. It was the only thing between her and salvation and she savagely refused to let it win and bring her down.
But most important of all, she would not allow it to match the longing pain in her heart.
That pain alone was hers.
The burning grief that consumed her for everything she had lost in that wicked storm, her friends, her brother, her home...that unbearable longing she felt for the sea blue eyes that sent her blood furiously boiling with regret, or heatedly pumping with devastating need, that pain belonged to her and her only.
Leisa had made a terrible mistake by trying to uproot it and substitute it for the barbaric, brutal pain of her Sleyan. And she would pay for it.
Tangled up with the mind-blowing fire in her spine, anger blazed in Maeve's veins like the fires of the Wikken Hells. Calling forth all the strength left in her burning muscles, tapping into whatever inner force she still had left within her body, Maeve twisted around with a sharp pull and elbowed Leisa square in the face.
Caught by surprise, the Radakeel lost her grip on her arm and stumbled backwards.
The Sleyan's infernal touch left her skin.
It was like emerging from a deep pool of dark water and gasping for a breath of fresh air after your lungs had excruciatingly suffered its deprivation.
The crowd around the two women gasped at what was happening before their eyes.
As Leisa regained her balance, Maeve pulled herself back to her legs. All the joints in her body hurt like the creaking hinges of an old door. But she couldn't care less. Ignoring the remnants of the Sleyan's grisly powers, she charged Leisa without a moment's rest.
Daggers and Sleyans met in the air once more, colliding, deflecting, slashing, missing, twisting, thrusting.
Leisa expertly countered Maeve's sudden charge, but there was something different in her attitude. Whereas her face still showed an emotionless grim mask, which seemed to be her natural countenance, there was something missing now. The iron resolve that had been there at the beginning of the battle was gone, as if she had no reason to fight anymore. Whatever it was she had wished to accomplish, it was done.
Nonetheless, furious determination roared in Maeve's eyes. She still had a reason to fight.
Deflecting a sideway slash from the other woman, Maeve whirled around and kicked Leisa behind the knee. The impact sent Leisa crouching halfway down and before she could recoil for another swift attack, Maeve blocked her upcoming thrust, sharply twisted the woman's wrist around and, wrapping her fingers over the woman's own grip on one of her Sleyans, Maeve jammed the tip of the dreadful weapon into Leisa's collarbone, to give her a vengeful taste of her own medicine.
But the scream that should've have escaped Leisa's lips never came, and Maeve could only frown in angry confusion.
Leisa looked up at her from under her eyebrows with a triumphant smile. "Only a Radakeel can wield a Sleyan."
Fire flashed in Maeve's eyes.
Furious that the woman was immune to the perverse and barbaric effect of her inhuman weapon which pain she dared inflict upon others, Maeve hauled and shoved Leisa to her feet and immediately charged her again.
The dance of colliding weapons continued, but Maeve, who had just been denied the vengeful taste of payback, had had just about enough of the Radakeel's game. With a skillful trick Rongar had taught her, after side-stepping, deflecting, turning and waiting for the opening she wanted, she suddenly wrenched a Sleyan out of Leisa's grip. The weapon's dreadful crackle of energy went dead as it thumped on the ground. Then, in the blink of an eye, not even giving Leisa a chance to realize what was going on, Maeve executed the same disarming trick but in reverse.
When the other Sleyan fell to the ground, Maeve stopped Leisa dead in her tracks by pressing the length of her dagger's blade firmly across the woman's throat.
Everything came to an grinding halt, the courtyard turning silent as a graveyard.
Breathing hard from the exertion of the headlong fight, Maeve dug her fiery eyes deep into the Radakeel's gaze. "Are you warmed up enough, now?"
Leisa held Maeve's unyielding glare with her natural stern look.
After an endless moment, silently acknowledging the victory to Maeve, she stepped back from the blade pressed across her throat, and her mouth curved into a witty smile. She called over her shoulder to Robin. "I like her!"
Then, with measured reverence, Leisa bowed her head down solemnly. "Welcome to Kalladrell."
All around Maeve, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause.