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OWYN HAD STRIPPED OFF his shirt and his boots, and was stretching when Fandor returned. Aven glanced over at where the Loremaster stood, then turned his focus back to Owyn.
“What does a second do?” he asked. Owyn frowned slightly, twisting at the waist.
“They don’t have seconds in the Water tribe?”
“No,” Aven said. He leaned against the rail, thinking about it. “I know the rules of challenge among my tribe, but I’ve never heard of it actually happening. But if it did, then the two would go out onto a canoe alone with their weapons. They either settled their differences or they didn’t come back.”
“Wait, at all?”
Aven shook his head. “When you live at the mercy of the deep, there’s no time for feuding or petty squabbles. So... we don’t have them.”
Owyn nodded. “Interesting. Here, it’s first blood.” He nodded to where a long square of some kind of leather had been laid on the ground. “First blood on the hide ends the fight. If it’s his, then he loses everything. Status, name, everything. There’s no coming back from an honor challenge.”
“And what if it’s yours?” Aven asked.
Owyn gave a weak smile. “And if it’s mine, then my challenge was rejected by the Mother, and I lose everything. But since I’ve only had everything for about an hour, it’s not as much for me to lose.”
“And you are not losing,” Aria said. She moved up behind Owyn and slipped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his bare shoulder. “You will win, and it will be magnificent.”
Owyn rested his arms over Aria’s, turning his head to rub his cheek against her hair. “Keep telling me that, will you?” he murmured. “I’m terrified.”
“You aren’t showing it,” Aven said, keeping his voice low. He stepped closer. “May I?”
Owyn looked puzzled, then snorted. “Get over here, Fishie.”
Aven grinned and moved in close, putting his arms around both of them. “Beat him like a drum, Owyn,” he said, making Aria and Owyn both laugh.
“Owyn,” Memfis called, coming toward them. “I have the whip chain.”
Owyn shifted, and Aven let him and Aria go. Owyn drew out of Aria’s arms and held his hand out, taking the long length of metal from Memfis. He examined it, section by section, then stopped and looked at Memfis. “Where’s the tip?”
“Do you want the ball or the blade?”
Owyn snorted. “What do you think? The blade!” Memfis just looked at Owyn, who grimaced and ducked his head. “Sorry, Mem.”
Memfis just snorted. He reached out and ruffled Owyn’s hair. “You’re growing, Fire Mouse. I like it. Give it back, and I’ll put the blade in place.” He took the whip chain, and sat down to work. As he did, he nodded toward the rail and Fandor. “I’ve no idea how he fights. I’ve never seen him.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Owyn answered. He rolled his shoulders, and Aven heard the muscles pop.
“How are your shoulders, Owyn?” he asked. “You had your arms tied behind you for a long time. And when I healed you, I was looking for poisons, not muscle damage.”
“I’m a little stiff,” Owyn said with a shrug. “I’ll be fine. Once the chain is ready, I can finish loosening up.”
“It’s ready,” Memfis said. He held the chain up. “Be careful, Fire Mouse.”
Owyn took the chain and draped it around his neck. “Right. You all stay here. Don’t come any closer than the rail.” He looked seriously at Aria and Aven. “You can’t see the chain when it’s in motion. And I can’t stop it if you step into the wrong place. So stay here.”
“We understand,” Aria said. She stepped forward, took Owyn’s face between her hands and kissed him. Then she smiled at him. “Win.”
“As you wish, my Heir,” Owyn answered. He kissed her on the tip of the nose, then turned to Aven. “Kiss for luck?”
Aven smiled and leaned down. He meant for it to be a brief kiss, but Owyn had other ideas, catching the back of Aven’s neck in one hand and holding him close with the other, kissing him passionately. He heard Aria laughing, then nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat hammering in his ears. He pulled Owyn closer, running his hands over his back....
And Owyn let him go. He pulled back slightly, then tucked his head and rested his forehead on Aven’s chest. He was, Aven realized, giggling.
“What’s so funny?” Aven asked.
“Just that I’m realizing that there aren’t any beds where we’re going. At least, not for a while,” Owyn answered, his voice low. “Starting to regret making us wait.”
Aven laughed and put his arms around Owyn. “We’ll make do. Or we’ll wait.”
“Yeah, yeah, we will.” Owyn looked up and grinned. “Got all the luck I need now, don’t I?”
Aven kissed him on the forehead. “And a little more. Can’t hurt.”
Owyn nodded. “Right. Let me go finish warming up.” He smiled, then walked around the railing to one side of the hide. He picked up the ends of the chain where they draped over his shoulders, and in one fluid move, started to spin the chain over his head. The whip-chain almost immediately vanished from sight, but there was a slight whistling sound as the metal segments cut the air.
“I thought he was exaggerating when he said that the chain would disappear,” Aria murmured. “How can you defend against something like this?”
“That’s the point,” Memfis said, coming up behind him. “And Owyn’s surprisingly good with it, for all that he hasn’t been training with it for long.”
“How long?” Aven asked, not looking away from Owyn. His movements looked familiar, and Aven realized that they were similar to the way he handled his hook swords.
“A little over a year,” Memfis answered. Aven turned to stare at him, and Memfis smiled. Then he nodded across the cave. “Fandor is warming up. Tell me what you think.”
Aven nodded and looked over to where Fandor was swinging a pair of short swords. After a moment, Aven coughed. “I don’t think he has any idea what he’s doing,” he said, his voice low.
“That’s what I was thinking. And it can’t be. He wouldn’t have chosen an unfamiliar weapon for an honor challenge,” Memfis said. “Something isn’t right here.”
“What can we do?” Aria asked. “I don’t think there is anything, is there?”
“No. We have to let it play out, and hope for the best,” Memfis answered. “The Council is ready.”
Aven nodded, watching as the seats at the table were filled, watching as Owyn brought the chain slowly to a stop and draped it once more over his shoulders. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, but his breathing was normal. He smiled at them, then moved to stand in front of the center table, where Meris was taking her seat.
“Owyn, is it your intent to proceed with the challenge?” she asked. The question sounded almost ritualistic. Owyn’s answer did not.
“Yes, Granna,” he replied, and Meris struggled not to smile. She looked at Fandor instead, and her expression hardened.
“And do you refuse the challenge?” Meris asked. “Keeping in mind that doing so forfeits your place in the tribe?”
“I do not refuse,” Fandor growled. He turned and glared at Owyn, and Aven frowned. Fandor’s voice sounded wrong, and his eyes seemed too bright, too glassy. There was something–
“Lady Meris!” he shouted. “Is there a healer present? An unbiased healer?”
Meris frowned. “Aven, this is highly irregular—”
“I understand that,” Aven replied. He pointed at Fandor. “It is my opinion as a healer that Fandor has drugged himself.”
A hiss went up from around the Council table, and Meris raised her hand until there was silence. “That’s a grim accusation, Aven,” she said.
“I’m aware,” Aven said. “And I know that he will not accept any report I make as a healer. So I ask, is there a healer present who can confirm that he is not fit to enter this challenge?”
This time, Meris’ raised hand wasn’t enough to silence the buzz of conversation around the table. It took one of the men seated with her standing and raising his voice to quiet the others. “Enough!” he snapped. “Aven, son of Earth and Water, you are a trained healer?”
“Trained, but not formally recognized by the Earth tribe,” Aven answered. “I was trained by my father, but we lived at sea. I’ve never been on land before.”
The man nodded. “And, if you had to guess, what level healer would you be?”
“My father judged me to be second level, perhaps, sir,” Aven answered. The man nodded.
“You may call me Oppa. And would you swear to the Council that your report would be factual and unbiased?”
Aven licked his lips and considered the question. “I would swear to be factual, Lord Oppa,” he said slowly. “But I am not unbiased. Fandor assaulted Owyn and me both tonight, and would have handed me over to Mannon to be killed. He attempted to murder Owyn. I cannot forget that.”
“A fair answer, Healer Aven,” Oppa said. “I see why you requested a second healer to evaluate him. In your opinion, what sort of drug is in use here?”
Aven frowned, studied Fandor, who glared at him. “Without touching him? I would say that I think it’s some sort of stimulant. Possibly something to dull pain and increase his stamina. But I'm not familiar with everything you might have at hand here in Forge. I didn’t know what Rut was, for example.”
Oppa blinked. “Rut?” he repeated.
“It’s what Fandor gave to Owyn,” Aven answered.
Oppa looked at Meris. “And this young healer defeated Rut?”
“We think that perhaps Aven is a better healer than he knows,” Meris said. “I would accept his report without question. But I know the young man, and I knew his parents.”
Oppa nodded. “I yield to the opinion of Lady Meris, and request that Healer Aven report on Fandor. Has the challenged attempted to pervert these proceeding?”
“Why not?” Owyn muttered, loud enough to be heard throughout the cave. “He perverts every other fucking thing he touches.”
A ripple of laughter, and Aven fought to keep a straight face. It took him a minute to be able to answer, “I cannot examine Fandor without his consent.”
Fandor turned and looked at him, his expression oddly blank. Aven had the distinct feeling that he was swimming into a trap, but there wasn’t any way around it as Fandor nodded. “I will allow it,” he announced, and held his arms wide.
Aven hesitated, then came around the railing. He was on the far side when he realized that Fandor hadn’t lowered his arms... or his swords. Aven stopped.
“Put the swords down,” he said. Fandor looked puzzled. He looked at each of his hands, as if he’d forgotten he was carrying his weapons.
“Oh?” he said. Then he smiled and lunged at Aven. Aven jumped back, slamming into the railing, and pulled his own swords free. He blocked, feeling the impact all the way up his arm, and pushed back, trying to get off the rail. He’d been wrong — Fandor definitely knew what he was doing with a sword. Aven blocked again, catching the blade of Fandor’s left hand sword in the hooks of his own swords. He twisted, and Fandor’s blade shattered, metal clattering to the ground. Losing the blade had no effect on Fandor — he just lunged again, using the jagged, broken blade. Aven slashed, and saw the blood well up across Fandor’s abdomen. But still Fandor kept coming, seeming not to feel the pain as he drove Aven back against the railing. Aven heard shouting, heard the Council clamoring, heard Aria and Memfis from behind him. But Owyn’s voice cut through the din like a blade.
“Get down!”
Aven dropped, hearing a whistling sound as he sprawled on the floor. From above him, he heard a wet sound and something ripping. He felt something splatter the back of his arm and his hand. He saw Fandor staggering away, and saw Owyn following. The whip-chain was still whistling, so Aven stayed where he was.
“Aven, are you all right?” Aria crouched on the other side of the rail.
“I think so,” Aven answered.
“There is blood on your arm.”
Aven shook his head. “It’s not mine.”
“Owyn’s far enough away,” Memfis said. “You can get up.”
Aven got to his feet, moving behind the railing and watching the fight. Fandor was covered in blood from a multitude of wounds, but whatever drug he’d taken seemed to be keeping him from feeling the pain. He kept lunging, slashing, trying to get through Owyn’s guard, trying to get past the chain, failing every time, leaving a bloody trail that marked the steps of the gruesome dance. He was panting, a mad light in his face. Owyn, on the other hand, somehow was managing to look both completely calm, and absolutely furious.
Aven frowned. “Memfis, should I—”
“No,” Memfis answered before Aven had a chance to finish the question. “Owyn needs to finish this on his own.”
Owyn apparently had the same idea — he started moving faster, spinning the whip chain harder. The whistle grew more high pitched as he closed the distance between himself and Fandor. Fandor went pale and staggered backwards, stumbling out of range. Then he turned, and sprinted toward the rail.
His target was clear. Aria.
It was over before Aven could react — Owyn dashed after Fandor and whipped the chain forward, so that it wrapped around Fandor’s neck. As soon as the loop closed, Owyn stopped and planted himself, jerking back hard on the chain. The crack as Fandor’s neck broke was loud enough to echo; he dropped like a stone and didn’t move.
Owyn stood for a moment, panting, looking down at the body. He jerked the whip chain free, and slowly began folding the sections up until he could hold them in one hand. Then he turned to the Council members, who were huddled against the farthest wall.
“Now,” Owyn announced. “Speaking as Fire companion, you all are going to give my Heir exactly what she asks for, and every damned thing that she asks for. Immediately. Is that understood?” He scowled. “Well?”
Meris stepped out of the group. “Yes, Companion.”
“Thank you, Lady Meris,” Owyn answered with a nod. “As a personal request, will someone take that—” he pointed at Fandor’s body. “And pitch it into the volcano?”
“At first light, Companion,” Oppa said. “Are you hurt?”
“Me?” Owyn shook his head. “Nah. I’m good. He never touched me. However, while you do whatever it is that my Heir tells you to do, I’m going to go find a nice, quiet place to throw my guts up. Excuse me.”
*****
THEY WERE GOING TO leave Forge from the northern gate, following what Memfis called the old trade road. The supplies would be waiting for them there — riding horses, a pack-horse, food and clothes and supplies they’d need on the road. Meris insisted on bringing them to the gate herself, so they all crowded back into the carriage.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” Aven asked as Owyn settled onto the bench. “You look pale.”
“Right now? I feel pale,” Owyn said with a chuckle. “I’m surprised my bones aren’t on the outside with as hard as I puked.” He shook his head. “It’s over. He’s not hanging over me anymore.”
“You did the entire city a service, Owyn,” Meris said. “But there are many who won’t see it that way.”
“Oh, I know,” Owyn said with a nod. He looked out the carriage window. “Sorry you’re going to have to deal with that. But not much.”
Meris laughed. “Nor am I, to be honest.” Meris said. She looked to her side, to Memfis. “What’s your next step?”
“The main healing center in the Earth tribal lands,” Memfis answered. “Raise some troops, get Aria’s name out there. Then... I’m not sure. Maybe the coastal towns and contact with Water before we head north for Air.”
“How are we going to reach the Air tribes?” Owyn asked. “You told me that you can’t get further than the village at the base of the mountains. Not without wings.”
“That’s where I will go on alone,” Aria answered. “But first we have to get there.” She took Owyn’s hand, then Aven’s. “This will not be easy. Mannon will know where we’re going. He’ll try to stop us.”
“Are you saying that to try and scare us off?” Owyn asked. “Because I don’t scare easy.” He paused. Frowned. “Well, I do, but not over that. It’s scarier to think about leaving you.”
Aven squeezed Aria’s hand until she looked at him. He smiled. “I promised you. Where you fly, I follow.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, and saw her blush.
“The Mother chose well, when She chose you three,” Meris said softly. “You’re dangerous, you know. The three of you together. Mannon knows you’re a threat, but I don’t think he realizes how much of one.”
Aria frowned slightly. She looked at Owyn, then at Aven. Then she looked back to Meris. “Grandmother? Why?”
“Because for the first time in a very long time, I’m seeing a chance that this nightmare will end. That Mannon will be overthrown, and the Firstborn restored,” Meris answered. “You three, together, bring me hope. And others see it, too. People are going to follow you. And that makes you dangerous. Mannon will do whatever he can to stop you.”
The carriage bumped along in silence for a few minutes, then Owyn cleared his throat. “Ah... thought of something. Aven, you don’t ride, do you?”
“I rode with Trey,” Aven answered. “But by myself? No.”
“Aria?”
“I’ve never been on a horse,” Aria answered. “I thought I would fly.”
“In the dark?” Memfis asked. “No, you ride with me for now. Aven, you can ride with Owyn. You’ll learn as we go.”
“We’re all going to learn as we go,” Aria said. “And we’re not going to stop until we’re done.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Aven said, as the carriage rolled to a stop. He looked at Aria, at Owyn. At his future. And he smiled. “Let’s go.”
**