From atop the hill, they saw a reap of field demons in the valley below, circling a pair of slender dal’Sharum standing back-to-back. The warriors seemed unharmed, but they were outnumbered more than three to one, and thus unlikely to remain so. On foot, the warriors could not hope to escape. Even Krasian chargers could not outsprint a field demon.
Jardir tensed, ready to gallop to their aid, when Inevera raised a hand. ‘Just watch, beloved. We are not meant to interfere.’
All three men looked at Inevera, but she sat serene in her palanquin, her aura calm, though laced with satisfaction. They turned back, watching the battle unfold.
‘Who are they?’ Jayan wondered. ‘What unit are they from? This pocket isn’t due to be swept for another hour.’
Just then the largest of the field demons broke the circling ring to leap at one of the warriors who seemed to have dropped his guard. It was a lure, and the warrior whirled the moment the attack came, driving his spear right down its throat. Another demon leapt at the opening, but the warrior’s partner had his shield in place to block. He struck a blow of his own, hard in the foreleg joint, that sent the demon skittering back with a yelp.
From the other side of the ring, more attacks came, but the first warrior pulled his ichor-stained spear free and they rotated a quarter turn in perfect precision to put his shield in place.
So impressed was Jardir with the warriors’ skill, it took him a moment to realize there had been no flare of magic when the warriors struck. He looked to Inevera. ‘Their spears are not warded?’
Inevera shook her head. ‘They fight in the old way, as did my honoured husband.’
‘Everam’s beard,’ Jayan said. Even he had never faced an alagai without a warded weapon. Asome was silent, but he drew wards in the air, blessing the combatants.
Without combat magic the Sharum blows had to be precise, for the demons’ armour had few weaknesses, and they healed quickly. The field demons struck like lightning, flashing paws and snapping jaws, sometimes darting in low and others standing on hind legs to strike high. After the first of them fell, its fellows grew more cautious, the quick and agile beasts dodging return blows the moment they began.
But the warriors fought like nothing Jardir had ever seen, working in perfect unison, like a single fighter with two heads and four arms. Again and again the demons were thrown back, until one, struck what seemed a glancing blow by one of the warriors, had its leg collapse under it. The pair had already begun to turn, and the other warrior put the sharp point of his spear into its eye socket and the brain beyond, killing it.
They might have fallen into a more defensive posture then, but instead the warriors exploded into motion, spinning to let a pouncing demon get between them. They stepped together hard, the defensive wards on their shields flaring and crushing the demon between them.
Now outnumbered two to one, the warriors grew more bold, stepping apart and letting the demons surround them.
Fools, Jardir thought. Why give up the advantage?
But the warriors had given up nothing. The demons came at them from all sides, but they used their shields to maximum effect, whipping their spears to parry and harry as they moved, every step in control. A demon charged one headlong while his shield and spear were out wide, but the warrior leaned forward and kicked his foot up behind him like a scorpion to strike over his head. The demon took the blow to the face, knocking it aside. Before it could recover, he was on its fellow, striking a precise blow down its throat for another kill.
The other warrior had finished a demon as well, and fighting one-to-one they dropped their shields, forgoing defence entirely. The demons attacking them went for the bait, snapping their jaws forward, but the warriors, like mirror images of each other, caught the bites on the shafts of their spears, twisting before the wood could shatter and turning the demons’ own momentum against them. They swung, slamming the flailing demons together, taking satisfaction at the deep gouges their talons left on one another. They snapped their spears back into position and struck at the wounds, driving into the vulnerable flesh beneath.
They stood breathless, regarding the alagai corpses around them. One twitched, but the nearest warrior was quick to finish it off as Inevera kicked her camel and headed down the hill towards them.
Jardir and the others followed, awestruck. When they closed in, the warriors bowed deeply, first to Inevera, and then to Jardir. When they straightened, Jardir’s eyes nearly bulged from his head. Their warrior’s garb hid much, but their auras could not hide the curves of their bodies.
Women.
‘Shar’Dama Ka,’ their melodious voices said in unison, ‘we come before you to answer your call. We pray these alagai are a worthy sacrifice for the first of your Sharum’ting.’
‘Sharum … ting?’ Jayan said in disbelief.
In response, the women reached up, removing their turbans and veils with the same synchronous precision with which they fought. Jardir held his breath, having already identified them by their auras. Inevera was clever. He could not deny it. But she had struck a hornets’ nest this time. Even Asome’s calm was broken. ‘What in Nie’s abyss?!’
‘Shanvah?’ Shanjat demanded, seeing his daughter, Jardir’s niece by his sister Hoshvah, standing before them.
But it was the other woman that caused Asome’s aura to flare so bright with rage that Jardir felt blinded by it even in periphery. Ashia, Ashan’s daughter by his eldest sister, Imisandre.
Asome’s First Wife.
Dawn was approaching; the stained-glass windows of the throne room beginning to fill with colour. Every ancient rite of Sharum naming had been observed. The young women had more than fulfilled the demon killing requirements, standing face-to-face with alagai in the naked night and not giving ground. Inevera had cast the bones for them, and – of course – pronounced them worthy. Now all that was left was to wait for sunrise, and his decision.
It was not an easy decision to make. Beyond the far-reaching cultural implications, either choice would directly cost him respect and loyalty from valuable allies and family.
He looked at Inevera, her aura still infuriatingly self-satisfied. She loved him, but that was not the same as being on his side. She seemed almost bored as she lounged on her bed of pillows, but beneath she was intensely focused.
Beside her on his throne, Jardir watched as Asome and Ashia quietly argued in a small alcove at the far end of the room. It took only a little concentration to see through the stone and make out their auras. His sharp ears picked up every word.
‘How can you shame me like this?’ Asome demanded, his hands shaking. Jardir had made a point of reminding him that he considered striking his sister’s daughters as great a crime as striking a dama’ting, but Asome’s aura showed he was considering it anyway.
‘Shame you?’ Ashia’s aura was flat and even, like that of a warrior who had embraced her fears and let them fall away. ‘Husband, you should be proud of me. Shanvah and I are the first Krasian women in history to stand in the night and be baptized in demon ichor. How does this bring anything but honour to your name?’
‘Honour?’ Asome asked. ‘As you parade around unveiled in men’s clothes? Where is the honour in every man I meet thinking I cannot control my own wife?’
‘I do not wish to be controlled!’ Ashia snapped. ‘You and my brother may have convinced my father to give me to you, but it was never my desire.’