Then, Ra-khir, Kevral, Darris, and a few companions obtained the item necessary for the elves to lift the sterility plague. Ivana was born. And everything changed. Repulsed by the princess, nearly all of the elves abandoned the company of humans to live quiet, unseen lives in the forests scattered throughout Midgard. As far as Saviar knew, only Tem'aree'ay herself remained, bonded to husband and daughter by a love that surpassed tribes, species, even near-immortality.
Saviar hoped that one day, he, too, would find a woman who loved him with such consummate and awesome passion, willing to give up everything just to be with him. He knew Griff would do the same for Tem'aree'ay as well, and Saviar craved the kind of love that would drive him to such madness. For, though Griff had married Queen Matrinka to appease the populace, and Xoraida to legitimately father human heirs, his enormous and tender heart belonged wholly to his elfin wife.
To have this creature, Ivana, be the result of a love so obsessive and fierce seemed the cruelest trick. And many considered it a warning: Leave creation to the gods. Only sorrow could come of meddling with it, of starting new species by mingling unlike beings. The gods had revealed their displeasure by punishing Bearn's king with this monstrosity, and all humans and elves should take heed. It was so easy to forget that her conception had once been considered the ultimate miracle, the answer to two of the greatest problems of the universe.
Finally, Ivana released Saviar and joined her siblings at the periphery. Only then, it occurred to Saviar to wonder why his father had gathered the heirs of Bearn to watch him practice, why Halika had cautioned him and worried for his safety. Saviar had greeted all the heirs, yet still an equal host stood, calmly watchful, at Ra-khir's side. A sinewy horde of brunets and blonds, male and female, some of them braided and all of them armed with swords studied his every movement from the sidelines. He knew them all, at least in passing; and he also knew why they took such an interest in him. They were learning him: from the set of his build to the shape, origin, and insertion of every muscle. They were the guardians of Bearn's heirs, the only Renshai currently residing in Bearn.
And they were about to attack him. En masse.
CHAPTER 12
Renshai violence is swift and merciless, but never without cause.
Terror seized Saviar in an all-consuming instant that drove everything into slow motion. The mass of Renshai drew and attacked with a speed that would ordinarily have astounded, yet Saviar felt as if he had all the time in the world to die. Instinct took over, and his own sword rasped from its sheath. Then, fear retreated behind the courage trained into him since birth: to die in glorious valorous combat, to find his place in Valhalla, to fight until he drew his last gasping breath. He would do nothing in cowardice, but neither did Renshai training force him to act a fool.
Eyes on his foe, Saviar made a wild leap for the staircase. The forest of swords followed him, clutched in the hands of eager Renshai. Saviar bounded up, three steps at a time, then whirled to face his opponents on the landing. The other Renshai were on him in an instant, but the closed confines forced them to face him one warrior at a time, the others clamoring and howling on the steps like wolves.
And I'm the bone, Saviar realized, catching the first attack, by Asmiri, on his sword and parrying it harmlessly aside. Asmiri clutched a hilt in each hand, cursing the banister and wall that limited his right arm. Nevertheless, his left-hand strokes came blisteringly quickly, and he even managed a few surprises with the right. Hard-pressed to his defense, Saviar parried, blocked, and dodged without bothering to return an attack. He knew all of his attackers, and it chilled him. Every one had fought in the Pirate Wars, every one had already passed the tests to which he still only aspired; not one would go easy on a young Renshai they still considered a child.
Yet, when an opening came, Saviar seized it. He lunged into a miniscule space between Asmiri's weaving blades, jabbing hard enough to disembowel his opponent. Asmiri managed to dodge, barely, hampered by the Renshai behind him. Saviar's blade stabbed through cloth and grazed skin. Real blood followed its withdrawal, and Saviar paused for an instant, startled.
Saviar's torke always told him to keep his strokes real. Any adult Renshai who could not avoid the most deadly strike of a student deserved to die. It happened occasionally, though never to Saviar, who had not even drawn blood on a torke. "Asmiri, are you all right?"
Asmiri gave him a pale-faced, sour look. "I'm dead, all right?" Unable to properly retreat from the battle, he wilted to the ground in a feigned and awkward swoon. "Keep fighting."
I won! Saviar realized. I actually won. He had no time to revel in his triumph. The horde pressed forward, and Elbirine replaced Asmiri. Lost beneath the swiftly shifting feet, Asmiri worked his way cautiously down the stairs while his companions did their best not to step on him. Lithe, small, and fierce, Elbirine had trained with Kevral. Though approaching middle age, she moved with the quickness of a stooping hawk. "Overconfident, like your mother?"
Forced to leap backward to avoid a stunning strike, Saviar dashed his spine against the stonework. Because of her youth and attitude, Kevral had not been well liked by her classmates. Saviar had to wonder whether she annoyed them as much as Calistin did him. Head ringing, he surged into a slashing over-under combination. "No." He dodged a powerful slice from the small woman. "Just…" He parried. "… confident…" He lunged. "… enough."
A twirling maneuver saved him from a deadly jab, but opened his side momentarily. Steel tore his britches and the covering flesh and bruised his hipbone with enough force to bring unbidden tears to his eyes.
"Not fatal," Elbirine shouted, without giving Saviar any time to recover. She sliced and cut, surging in and out with fine movements so fast they seemed invisible. He managed to dodge or parry every one, at the same time collecting tiny rents and bruises that reminded him how close he had come to losing the battle.
"Come on, knight's son," Elbirine growled, meaning both the talking while fighting, and the words, as insult. By referring to his father, she meant to remind him that he was not all Renshai, but something less. "Get angry."
Saviar wished he could, but his training remained too strong within him. He knew that rage made men careless, the commonest cause for a fall. He did not like Elbirine. The Renshai guardians of Bearn's heirs had come to help him, at Ra-khir's request. Any Renshai would assist one of their own, and no Renshai could resist a battle.Yet, it soon became clear Elbirine wanted him to pay for all the humiliation she had suffered at the hands of his mother, from Kevral's superior skill and her patronizing manner. Saviar knew only that he could not allow Elbirine to best him.
And then, it happened. Saviar rose to a level he had heard about but never before reached. His mind remained free to study his opponent, to scan her every motion; yet his body reacted without the need for thought. All of his training came together in that moment. He did not need to consider a move before he made it. His body instinctively found the perfect maneuver and used it. Every attack had a defense and a counter, and his arms and legs performed them from years of brutal practice.