among Alars.
"You have taken food here," said Sorath.
"And I have been pleased to have done so," I said. "Thank you."
"You are a guest here," said Sorath.
"And I expect to receive the respect and courtesy due a guest," I said.
"Let him have her for a few Ehn," suggested Hurtha.
"He has not asked," I said.
"Ask," suggested a fellow to Sorath.
"He will not know the ax," said Hurtha. "He is not of the wagons."
"Let them then be blades!" roared Sorath.
"The ax will be fine," I said. I had learned its use in Torvaldsland. I had little doubt that the Torvaldslanders could stand up to any folk in the use of the ax.
"Let the axes be headless," said Genserix. This proposal surprised me somewhat, but I welcomed it. It seemed a decent and generous gesture on the part of Genserix. Not (pg. 51) every chieftain of the Alars, I supposed, would have been so thoughtful. In this fashion the worse that was likely to happen was that the loser would have his head broken open. The men about the fire grunted their agreement. They all seemed rather decent fellows. Sorath, too, I was pleased to see, nodded. Apparently he, at least after a moment of choler, upon a more sober reflection, had no special wish to kill me. He would probably be satisfied to beat me unconscious. In the morning then I might awaken naked, tied to a stake outside the wagons. In a few days, then, which I might have spent ruminating on my ingratitude, while living on water poured into a hole near me, and on vegetables thrown to me, like a tarsk, when the wagons moved I might have been freed, a well-used Feiqa then returned to me, perhaps with a fresh Alar brand in her hide, that I might be reminded, from time to time, of the incident.
Two of the long heavy handles were brought.
I hefted one. It had good weight and balance.
"Beware, friend" said Hurtha. "Sorath well knows the ways of the ax."
"Thank you," I said.
Feiqa whimpered.
"Prepare yourself for the future," I said.
"Master?" she asked, puzzled.
"Shall the female be held?" asked a fellow.
"That will not be necessary," I said. "Stay, Feiqa"
"Yes, Master," she said. She would now keep her place, kneeling as she was, until a free person might permit her to move.
Sorath spit upon his hands and gripped the handle. He cut the air with a stroke or two.
I went to an open place near the fire.
"See?" said one of the fellows, "He takes a position with the fire at his back." Some of the others nodded, too, seemingly having noted this.
When possible, of course, given consideration of the land, warriors like to have both the sun and wind at their back. The glare from the sun, even if it is not blinding, can be wearing upon an enemy, particularly if the battle persists for (pg. 52) Ahn. The advantages of having the wind at one's back are obvious. It flights one's arrows, increasing their range; it gives additional impetus to one's movements and charges; and whatever dust or debris it might carry is more likely to effect the enemy than oneself.
Sorath struck fiercely down at me with the handle and I blocked the blow, smartly. His blow had been a simple, obvious one, and unless he had intended to use it in wearing down my strength or perhaps breaking the handle I carried, it made little sense. He stood back, considering matters.
"Surely you would not have struck at an Alar like that," I said. He must be clear that I had not brought my handle back, under the blow, slashing upward to his neck, a blow that can, with the Torvaldsland ax, at least, cut the head from a man.
"True, Stranger," said a woman's voice. I stepped back a little, sensing that there was momentary truce between Sorath and myself, but also keeping track of him. He could not change position without my detecting it. "I have seen tharlarion who could handle and ax better than that," she said. Sorath reddened, angrily. It was apparently a free woman of the Alars, only she was not dressed as were the other women of the camp, in their coarse, heavy,
"You have taken food here," said Sorath.
"And I have been pleased to have done so," I said. "Thank you."
"You are a guest here," said Sorath.
"And I expect to receive the respect and courtesy due a guest," I said.
"Let him have her for a few Ehn," suggested Hurtha.
"He has not asked," I said.
"Ask," suggested a fellow to Sorath.
"He will not know the ax," said Hurtha. "He is not of the wagons."
"Let them then be blades!" roared Sorath.
"The ax will be fine," I said. I had learned its use in Torvaldsland. I had little doubt that the Torvaldslanders could stand up to any folk in the use of the ax.
"Let the axes be headless," said Genserix. This proposal surprised me somewhat, but I welcomed it. It seemed a decent and generous gesture on the part of Genserix. Not (pg. 51) every chieftain of the Alars, I supposed, would have been so thoughtful. In this fashion the worse that was likely to happen was that the loser would have his head broken open. The men about the fire grunted their agreement. They all seemed rather decent fellows. Sorath, too, I was pleased to see, nodded. Apparently he, at least after a moment of choler, upon a more sober reflection, had no special wish to kill me. He would probably be satisfied to beat me unconscious. In the morning then I might awaken naked, tied to a stake outside the wagons. In a few days, then, which I might have spent ruminating on my ingratitude, while living on water poured into a hole near me, and on vegetables thrown to me, like a tarsk, when the wagons moved I might have been freed, a well-used Feiqa then returned to me, perhaps with a fresh Alar brand in her hide, that I might be reminded, from time to time, of the incident.
Two of the long heavy handles were brought.
I hefted one. It had good weight and balance.
"Beware, friend" said Hurtha. "Sorath well knows the ways of the ax."
"Thank you," I said.
Feiqa whimpered.
"Prepare yourself for the future," I said.
"Master?" she asked, puzzled.
"Shall the female be held?" asked a fellow.
"That will not be necessary," I said. "Stay, Feiqa"
"Yes, Master," she said. She would now keep her place, kneeling as she was, until a free person might permit her to move.
Sorath spit upon his hands and gripped the handle. He cut the air with a stroke or two.
I went to an open place near the fire.
"See?" said one of the fellows, "He takes a position with the fire at his back." Some of the others nodded, too, seemingly having noted this.
When possible, of course, given consideration of the land, warriors like to have both the sun and wind at their back. The glare from the sun, even if it is not blinding, can be wearing upon an enemy, particularly if the battle persists for (pg. 52) Ahn. The advantages of having the wind at one's back are obvious. It flights one's arrows, increasing their range; it gives additional impetus to one's movements and charges; and whatever dust or debris it might carry is more likely to effect the enemy than oneself.
Sorath struck fiercely down at me with the handle and I blocked the blow, smartly. His blow had been a simple, obvious one, and unless he had intended to use it in wearing down my strength or perhaps breaking the handle I carried, it made little sense. He stood back, considering matters.
"Surely you would not have struck at an Alar like that," I said. He must be clear that I had not brought my handle back, under the blow, slashing upward to his neck, a blow that can, with the Torvaldsland ax, at least, cut the head from a man.
"True, Stranger," said a woman's voice. I stepped back a little, sensing that there was momentary truce between Sorath and myself, but also keeping track of him. He could not change position without my detecting it. "I have seen tharlarion who could handle and ax better than that," she said. Sorath reddened, angrily. It was apparently a free woman of the Alars, only she was not dressed as were the other women of the camp, in their coarse, heavy,
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