"Never!" shouted Kamahl, as he pushed his sister's hands away from him, shoving her so hard that she fell back onto the table, shattering it and sending the rest of the wooden warriors flying across the room.
Sprawled on the floor amid broken boards, Jeska peered up at Kamahl, trying to find her brother somewhere behind his wide, bloodshot eyes, but all she could see was the seething rage that now consumed him.
Pulling his sword slowly out of its scabbard on his back, Kamahl lowered the blade until it was mere inches from his sister's face.
"The Mirari is mine. The tribes are mine. Only I can lead our people to victory over Laquatas. If you do not stand with me, then you stand against me. Which will it be?"
Without flinching an inch, Jeska said, "I cannot stand with you this day, Brother."
"Then leave," he said, waving the sword at the door. "The next time we meet, we will be enemies."
Jeska stood up, dusted off her long, leather skirt, and deliberately turned her back on Kamahl and the sword before walking toward the door.
"If that is what it takes, Brother, then so be it," she said without looking back, slamming the door behind her.
Outside the meeting room, Jeska took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. What now? she asked herself. I need an ally. I need someone who's not afraid to stand up to Kamahl, someone Kamahl will listen to. I need to find Balthor.
News of the argument between Jeska and Kamahl spread quickly through the village, and by midafternoon none of the warriors in Auror would speak to Jeska. They stared at the ground as she passed or turned and walked away when she approached. Conversations stopped when she entered the ale hall, and she could feel everyone's eyes staring at her back and hear the whispers start up when she left.
Jeska didn't care what anyone thought. She was a Pardic warrior, more than a match in battle for any warrior in Kamahl's army, and used to being on her own. But the silence made it impossible for her to find Balthor, especially without calling attention to herself.
Kamahl had said that Balthor was returning today with new scouting reports, thought Jeska as she drank an ale by herself in the back of die hall. So he's either out scouting, or he's gone to die watchtower to wait for die scouts to return. Balthor's not that good at waiting, but I doubt Kamahl would risk him on a scouting party. I'll head to the watchtower first.
As Jeska left the ale hall, she barely noticed the warriors, Lamar among them, who were busy ignoring her while staring and whispering. She was too worried about her brother and what she would say to Balthor to care what boys thought of her anymore.
A half-mile past the edge of town, down a rocky path that hadn't been used in years, Jeska found Balthor atop the stone and wood village watchtower. Each village had similar structures, but most had fallen into disrepair as the barbarians had few enemies in the mountains. This one had been hastily patched and shored up.
"Balthor!" called Jeska as she approached. "May I speak with you?"
"Climb on up, girl," called Balthor. "I'm just waiting for the scouts to return, and I'm bored out of me skull. I could use a good argument."
Jeska clambered up the makeshift ladder that had been erected to replace the crumbling, stone stairs.
"I suppose ye want to talk about Kamahl and the Mirari," said Balthor when she reached the top.
"You heard?"
"Aye," said Balthor. "Kamahl was here earlier ranting about how ye had turned traitor."
"You know that's not true, Balthor," said Jeska, leaning against the stone crenellation opposite the dwarf.
"I know, girl. I know," said Balthor. "Your brother's not seeing everything too straight right now. Give him some time to cool down."
"That's just it, Balthor," replied Jeska. "It's like he's in a different world."
"Aye," said Balthor. He turned and peered over the wall to check for the scouts. "I keep telling meself that he'll come to his senses. I hoped that once the stress of the tournament was gone, he'd be back to his old self, but now we have this blasted war on the horizon."
"It's the Mirari," said Jeska. "We both know it."
"Aye, that we do. Do ye suppose it's controlling him?"
"I don't know," said Jeska. "I don't think so."
The top stone in the crenellation behind Jeska moved slightly, coming loose in its mortar, so the red-headed barbarian stepped away from the wall.
"Look, I went to see the dwarves during the tournament to find out what they might know about the orb."
"Ye did what?"
"I didn't tell you or Kamahl because I knew you'd both object," said Jeska, "But we need more information about this artifact."
Balthor raised his finger and opened his mouth but then stopped, dropped his hand to his side, and said, "What did ye find out?"
"They have no records of anything quite like the Mirari in their histories, but they have been tracking its course around Otaria," said Jeska, pacing the top of the watchtower. "Everywhere this orb goes, destruction follows. It possesses great power, but no one seems to be able to control it. The orb reportedly reflects the bearer's ultimate dreams and aspirations. I don't think the Mirari controls or corrupts so much as it amplifies the wielder's true nature to such an extreme that his dreams and desires get distorted, perverted."
"Aye, that pretty much describes what Kamahl's doing."
"Right," said Jeska. "Chainer was a dementia summoner with a strong sense of family. I could sense that when we talked to him after our battle. He tried to remake the Cabal to strengthen his family and ended up destroying it. Kirtar, the aven Order lieutenant, was, according to Kamahl, a cold-blooded warrior who longed for order in the world. He turned half the Citadel into solid crystal. Kamahl lives for battle and is obsessed with proving his skills to the world, and now he's brought the tribes to the brink of civil war over a challenge match."
"All right, ye convinced me," said Balthor. "What can we do, girl?"
"We must get the Mirari away from him," said Jeska, as she stopped pacing in front of the dwarf, "and then calm him down, so he'll talk peace with Talon. After that, I don't know. That accursed orb should be destroyed or at least buried in a deep hole. I say we take it to the dwarves, but I know how you feel about them."
"Nah, it's a sensible plan," said Balthor. "The clan's got no dreams beyond moving rocks. The orb should be plenty safe there. But how do we get the thing away from Kamahl? It's attached to his sword."
"We take it tonight while he's asleep."
"Steal it? That's not very honorable girl," commented Balthor.
"Would you rather try to take it by force?" asked Jeska. "Besides, according to the stories grandpapa used to tell, you weren't above a little larceny in your youth."
"That was a long time ago," said Balthor with a smirk. "All right, I'll sneak into Kamahl's room tonight and bring the Mirari back here for ye to take up to the clan."
"No. I should be the one," said Jeska. "Kamahl already doesn't trust me. If you get caught, we won't get a second chance. Besides, he'll kill you if he catches you. I, at least, have a chance against him in a battle."
"I may be getting old," said Balthor, "but I survived the great war against the phyrexians, and I can still handle meself against one slow barbarian carrying a big sword-a sword I forged for your grandpapa, if ye remember from the stories."
"Look, I don't want to argue about this," growled Jeska, as she pressed her hands against her head in frustration. "He's my brother and my responsibility. Besides, we barbarians are a bit faster than you give us credit for."
With that, Jeska grabbed her steel hairpins, pulled them from the bun atop her head, and whipped them down on either side of Balthor's face. Instantly, lightning crackled along the metal spines and arced from one hairpin to the other, right through the dwarf's ears. Jeska held the spell for a full ten seconds, remembering how grandpapa had told her that dwarves have very thick skulls.