well, and knew it as soon as she came to the edge of the cliff overlooking the encampment of Herzgo Alegni’s Shadovar barbarians. They couldn’t get to her without running for nearly a mile to the south, and could reach up the hundred-foot cliff with neither weapon nor spell.
“Herzgo Alegni!” she cried.
She presented the baby in the air before her. Her voice boomed off the stones, echoing throughout the ravine and reaching beyond to the encampment.
“Herzgo Alegni!” she shouted again. “This is your son!” And she kept shouting that over and over as the camp began to stir.
Dahlia noted a couple of Shadovar running out to the south, but they were of no concern to her. She shouted again and again. A gathering approached, far below, staring up at her, and she could only imagine their surprise that the foolish girl would come to them.
“Herzgo Alegni, this is your son!” she screamed, presenting the child higher. They heard her, though they were a hundred feet down and more than that away.
She scoured the crowd for a tiefling’s form as she yelled again to the father of her baby. She wanted him to hear her. She wanted him to see.
She couldn’t quite read the look on Themerelis’s square-jawed face as she came out into the garden. The night was dark, with few stars finding their way out from behind the heavy clouds that had settled in that evening. Several torches burned in the stiff wind, bathing the area in wildly dancing shadows.
“I didn’t know if you would come,” the man said. “I feared—”
“That I would leave without a proper farewell?”
The man started to answer, found no words, and simply shrugged.
“You would make love one last time?” Dahlia asked.
“I would go with you to Luskan, if you would have me.”
“But since you cannot.…”
He started toward her, arms outstretched, begging a hug. But Dahlia stepped back and to the side, easily keeping her distance.
“Please, my love,” he said. “One moment to remember until again we meet.”
“One last barb I might stab into the side of Sylora Salm?” Dahlia asked, and Themerelis’s face screwed up with puzzlement for just a moment until the notion fully registered, replacing curiosity with a stare of disbelief.
Dahlia laughed at him.
“Oh, I will stab her this night,” she promised, “but you’ll not stab me.”
She brought her right arm forward in a sweeping motion, then flicked her wrist, uncurling her staff to its full length.
Themerelis stumbled backward, eyes wide with shock.
“Come, lover,” Dahlia teased, bringing the staff horizontally in front of her chest. With a slight move, unseen by her opponent, she cracked two joints, leaving a four-foot center section in her hands, with twin two-foot-long sections dropping to the ends of short chains at either side. Again barely moving, Dahlia set those two side-sticks spinning, both forward at first, then one forward and one backward. She began rolling the center bar in the air in front of her, dipping its ends alternately, heightening the spins of the respective sides.
“It need not be—”
“Oh, but it does!” the woman assured him. “But our love—”
“Our
lust,”
she corrected him. “I am already bored, and I’ll be gone from here for years. Come then, coward. You profess to be a grand warrior—surely you’re not afraid of a tiny creature like Dahlia.” She worked the tri-staff more furiously then, rotating the central bar in front of her and all the while keeping the two side sticks spinning.
Themerelis put his hands on his hips and stared at her hard.
Dahlia grabbed the center of the long bar in one hand and broke the rotation. As the side sticks swung back to slap against the central bar they created lightninglike bolts that Dahlia expertly directed at her opponent.
Themerelis was lifted backward by the stinging bolts, once, then again.Neither did any real damage, but Dahlia’s laughter seemed to sting him quite profoundly. He drew
“Herzgo Alegni!” she cried.
She presented the baby in the air before her. Her voice boomed off the stones, echoing throughout the ravine and reaching beyond to the encampment.
“Herzgo Alegni!” she shouted again. “This is your son!” And she kept shouting that over and over as the camp began to stir.
Dahlia noted a couple of Shadovar running out to the south, but they were of no concern to her. She shouted again and again. A gathering approached, far below, staring up at her, and she could only imagine their surprise that the foolish girl would come to them.
“Herzgo Alegni, this is your son!” she screamed, presenting the child higher. They heard her, though they were a hundred feet down and more than that away.
She scoured the crowd for a tiefling’s form as she yelled again to the father of her baby. She wanted him to hear her. She wanted him to see.
She couldn’t quite read the look on Themerelis’s square-jawed face as she came out into the garden. The night was dark, with few stars finding their way out from behind the heavy clouds that had settled in that evening. Several torches burned in the stiff wind, bathing the area in wildly dancing shadows.
“I didn’t know if you would come,” the man said. “I feared—”
“That I would leave without a proper farewell?”
The man started to answer, found no words, and simply shrugged.
“You would make love one last time?” Dahlia asked.
“I would go with you to Luskan, if you would have me.”
“But since you cannot.…”
He started toward her, arms outstretched, begging a hug. But Dahlia stepped back and to the side, easily keeping her distance.
“Please, my love,” he said. “One moment to remember until again we meet.”
“One last barb I might stab into the side of Sylora Salm?” Dahlia asked, and Themerelis’s face screwed up with puzzlement for just a moment until the notion fully registered, replacing curiosity with a stare of disbelief.
Dahlia laughed at him.
“Oh, I will stab her this night,” she promised, “but you’ll not stab me.”
She brought her right arm forward in a sweeping motion, then flicked her wrist, uncurling her staff to its full length.
Themerelis stumbled backward, eyes wide with shock.
“Come, lover,” Dahlia teased, bringing the staff horizontally in front of her chest. With a slight move, unseen by her opponent, she cracked two joints, leaving a four-foot center section in her hands, with twin two-foot-long sections dropping to the ends of short chains at either side. Again barely moving, Dahlia set those two side-sticks spinning, both forward at first, then one forward and one backward. She began rolling the center bar in the air in front of her, dipping its ends alternately, heightening the spins of the respective sides.
“It need not be—”
“Oh, but it does!” the woman assured him. “But our love—”
“Our
lust,”
she corrected him. “I am already bored, and I’ll be gone from here for years. Come then, coward. You profess to be a grand warrior—surely you’re not afraid of a tiny creature like Dahlia.” She worked the tri-staff more furiously then, rotating the central bar in front of her and all the while keeping the two side sticks spinning.
Themerelis put his hands on his hips and stared at her hard.
Dahlia grabbed the center of the long bar in one hand and broke the rotation. As the side sticks swung back to slap against the central bar they created lightninglike bolts that Dahlia expertly directed at her opponent.
Themerelis was lifted backward by the stinging bolts, once, then again.Neither did any real damage, but Dahlia’s laughter seemed to sting him quite profoundly. He drew
Similar Books
