I had often seen Hugo practicing his sword work, but could never remember having seen Ascelin in the tournament ring. He was extremely good. He had all the moves, the sudden thrusts, the ability to catch a sword either on his own sword or his shield, the quick turn to avoid a blow. When they had fought for ten minutes he was still not even breathing hard. Hugo didn’t have anything like Ascelin’s height or experience, but he was twenty years younger and even quicker.
I’d never been trained in sword work myself, yet I could still appreciate how they managed to rain an impressive number of blows on each other, and with sharp swords at that, without ever hurting the other. Their shields rang again and again, and their armor flashed in the sun. Even tournament sword fighting was intended to make the other fighter drop his blade and yield, but these two could have been engaged in a dance, ready to keep on indefinitely.
“Stop!” shouted the Ifrit and thrust a fist into the sand between them. They stopped.
“You aren’t really fighting,” he said.
Hugo pulled off his helmet and mopped his brow. “I’ll fight harder if you’ll help me find my father, and if he’s still alive.”
The Ifrit dismissed this. “I’m not interested in whatever relatives of yours might or might not be alive at the moment. I already said I want you to fight to the death.”
“And what do you offer in return?” I called up to him, though I was afraid I already knew the answer.
“I don’t ‘offer’ anything,” said the Ifrit angrily. “I don’t know why you humans always seem to feel that Ifriti exist to grant your foolish wishes. Maybe I want you to grant me wishes for a change! I want to see an exciting fight where you know you’re going to die.”
Joachim tried to say something, but it was no use. The Ifrit snatched up the four of us who were not fighting, two in each hand. “Say you’ll fight properly, or I’ll crush these friends of yours now.”
Ascelin’s eyes grew dark. “Of course I’ll face death for them.”
The Ifrit smiled and set us down, on the far side of his foot from Hugo and Ascelin. The king coughed and clung to Dominic for support.
“So you are ready to sacrifice yourself,” said the Ifrit to Ascelin, sounding pleased. “But it won’t be amusing if you just stand there and let this hot-headed little man kill you. You,” to the king. “Order one to kill the other, and the other to defend himself.”
King Haimeric bent his head. “I cannot order either one to do that. You can do what you like to me.”
I had a nightmare feeling of paralysis, facing events moving far too fast, but if this was a nightmare I should have waked up long ago.
“I’m not going to kill you before you’ve had your turn to amuse me,” said the Ifrit irritably to the king. “You two warriors! I want one of you to kill the other one, now! I don’t care which one. But I do know how to make it more interesting. I’ll give the winner the chance to live a little longer.”
“And then?” said Hugo cautiously.
“And then I will kill him as punishment,” said the Ifrit with satisfaction. “Slowly, maybe over a week or two. I think I will kill him both slowly and painfully.”
They both looked at me. Just because I had once known western magic, they seemed to think I had some sort of insight into Ifriti. All I could do was shake my head. “He means it.”
Hugo seemed to be working his way from misery over his father to indignation and anger. “So he’s not going to let either of us go, no matter what we do? He wants to watch one of us die by the sword, and the other one by torture?”
“That’s certainly what he says.”
Ascelin turned sharply and pulled his helmet back on. “Defend yourself just enough to keep the Ifrit happy,” he said to Hugo in a low voice. “We’re both dead anyway. I’ll kill you as quickly and painlessly as I can.”
“But-” Hugo pulled his helmet back on as well and raised his sword. His voice was hollow from inside the helmet. “That means you’ll let the Ifrit torture you!”
“Shut up and obey me,” said Ascelin roughly. His first blow caught Hugo unprepared and sent him staggering.
But the young lord recovered quickly and swung up his shield. “You’re not my prince!” he yelled. “I don’t have to obey you!”
“Yes, you do,” said Ascelin grimly, landing another blow. “That’s right, appear to defend yourself. I’ll try to make this quick.”
“That’s better,” said the Ifrit with satisfaction, watching with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know why you humans always raise so many objections to everything.”
They were both really fighting now. All I had ever seen, closeup, was tournament fighting, but even I could tell the difference. Their swords flashed faster than I could follow, and their feet churned up the sandy soil. It would have been thrilling if it was not so terrible. Ascelin slowly backed Hugo toward a boulder, using his superior height and reach to full advantage. But the younger man ducked under what looked like a fatal thrust and landed a glancing blow on Ascelin’s arm as he darted away.
Ascelin stopped and looked at him. Blood seeped slowly onto his sleeve. “You aren’t listening, Hugo.”
“No, you aren’t listening! If this Ifrit’s already killed my father, I don’t care what he does to me! I’ll try to make this quick, Ascelin.”
Without answering, Ascelin sprang forward. Their swords rebounded with great clangs from each other’s helmets. Blood and sweat were dripping from them both now. I thought sickly that at least neither one of them would still be alive for the Ifrit to kill slowly. Joachim was murmuring under his breath again.
“Hugo!” said Ascelin, stepping back for a second. “Stop defending yourself! I know you don’t like this, but it’s for your own good.”
Hugo didn’t give him a chance to finish before he was on him, swinging his sword wildly. “I told you I’m not going to obey you! This is my quest, for my father, and you’ve been bossing me the entire trip, but you can’t do it anymore!”
Ascelin caught Hugo’s sword tip in his shield and gave a sharp jerk, wrenching it from the younger man’s hand. But as he drove his own sword forward, Hugo dropped, rolled, grabbed his sword again, and bounced back to his feet behind Ascelin. The prince whirled just in time. I turned my head away, unable to watch.
“Ifrit!” came a bellow from beside me. “Ifrit! You must make them stop!”
It was a voice, loud and ringing, I could never recall hearing before. But when I turned I saw it was the king.
Hugo and Ascelin were both so surprised that they stopped, twenty feet apart, eyeing each other warily.
“Sire?” said Dominic cautiously.
King Haimeric, as slight and white-haired as ever, glared up at the Ifrit, trembling like a leaf in the wind but completely determined. “All I can offer you is myself, but I’m not going to let you make them kill each other!”
“And who do you think you are, little man?” said the amused Ifrit, lifting him on his palm to face level.
“I am King Haimeric of Yurt.”
“Yurt,” said the Ifrit softly, and the color drained from his dark cheeks. “I’ve heard of Yurt.”
V
“If you’ve heard of Yurt,” said the king determinedly, “then you know it is a kingdom where no one, not even criminals, is put to death.”
“I was told,” said the Ifrit, still very softly and as though he had not even heard this remark, “to watch for people from Yurt.”
“And what were you supposed to do with us when we came?” demanded King Haimeric.
“I wasn’t supposed to kill you,” said the Ifrit unhappily. “Or at least not right away,” he added, brightening.