Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [32]
What’s done is done, for better or worse. And is that any different from what IB-EFORE he could complete the thought, Kahless realized he was not alone. His eyes slid to one side, searching for shadows; there weren’t anyway. Nor could he find a scent, . n the direction of the wind. But he sensed someone give behind him nonetheless, someone who had apparently made an effort to conceal his approach.
Kahless’s thumbs were already tucked into his belt, and his back was to his enemy. As subtly as possible, he moved his right hand toward the knife that hung by his thigh and grasped it firmly. Then he lifted it partway from its leather sheath.
Listening intently, he could hear the shallow breathing of his assailant, even over the sigh of the wind. In a minute, maybe less, the yolok worms would have another meal-and a meatier one.
He waited for a few impossibly long seconds, the hunter’s spirit rising in him, the blood pounding in his neck like a beast tearing loose of its chain. His lips curled back from his teeth, every fiber of his being caught in the fiery fever of anticipation.
Finally, the moment came. Clenching his jaw, Kahless whirled, blade singing as it cut the air, heading for the spot between his enemy’s head and his shoulders. His eyes opened wide, drinking in the sight of surprise on the intruder’s face, exulting in the prospect of the blood that would flow from hisationo!
Muscles cording painfully in his forearm, he stopped his blade less than an inch from its target. The oiled surface of the knife glinted, reflecting starlight on the smooth, gently curving jaw of Vathraq’s daughter. Her neck artery pulsed visibly beneath the metal’s finely honed edge.
And yet, she didn’t flinch. Only her eyes moved, meeting Kahless’s and locking onto them. They were pools of darkness, full of resentment and anger.
But nothing to match his own. Lightning-swift, Kahless flicked the blade back into its sheath and snarled like a wounded animal.
“Are you mad?” he rasped. “To sneak up on me like a-
.
He never finished. Kellein’s open hand smashed him in the face, stinging him as he wouldn’t have imagined she could. He took a half-step back, stunned for the moment.
But she wasn’t done with him. Slashing him with her nails, oblivious to the knife he still held in his hand, she sent him staggering back another step. With his left hand, he caught one of her wrists and squeezed it hard enough to crush the bones within.
His intention was to make her stop until he could put his knife away, then use both hands to subdue her. But before he could carry it out, his back foot slipped on the uncertain ground of the riverbank. He felt himself falling backward and braced himself for the chill of the current.
But instead, he felt something hard rush up to meet him, half-pounding the breath out of him. Then there was another impact-that of a weight on top of him. Her weight.
it was only then he realized that they had fallen onto a gentle slope just beneath the bank. In the season of Growing, this ground would be submerged by the flood; now, it was dry.
Kahless found that he was still grasping Kellein’s wrist with his free hand. Tightening his grip on it, he glared at her, his face mere inches below hers. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his face, smell the wildflowers with which she’d adorned herself for the feast.
Pleasant sensations, under other circumstances. But here and now, they only made him angrier. Remembering his knife, he plunged it into the soft earth beside him.
Kellein planted the heel of her hand on his chest and tried to get up-but he wouldn’t let her. Though Kahless’s strength was greater than hers, she tried a second time. And a third.
His lip curled. “You followed me out here,” he growled accusingly.
“And what if I did?” she returned, her teeth bared in an anger that seemed every bit as inflamed as his.
“What were you thinking?” he thundered. “Why did you come up behind me without warning?”
Kellein’s eyes narrowed, making her seem