To Battle The Gods

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Mida’s light touched me strongly where I sat upon my kan, not so strongly as it had in the lands of Midanna, yet sufficiently warming in what was, in truth, the land of males. The skies were bright and clear of clouds, the land all about us open and green, and beyond the rise of ground we had halted behind lay the city of Bellinard. I had returned at last to the place where my sister clans awaited me, warriors who would follow me into battle against the coming strangers, and I would have rejoiced at my return—had my humor not been so foul.

“Now comes Ennat,” said Chaldrin from where he sat his own kan nearby; the rumble of his words did not intrude upon my thoughts. “As Wedin and Dotil accompany her, the wenches are likely all in their assigned places.”

“More quickly than the legions of Sigurr,” said S’Heernoh, amused, as he often was. The male who was called Walker sat his kan somewhat behind, his observation exceedingly soft, yet not so soft that I was unable to hear it. Few others would have had the courage to jest in my hearing just then, yet S’Heernoh always faced my displeasure with little more than innocent curiosity.

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