way to use arrogance as armor, I'd wager he's not got two score ten years left to him." I did some quick math in my head. "I'm thinking he'll sup at death's table in less than four."
Tashayul chuckled as he shook his head and let mock surprise wash over his face. "Only four years? How did you arrive at that number?"
I decided not to tell him that were the prophecy about his death true, I'd need those years to prepare. I lied instead. "A year each for the conquest of Ispar, Barkol, and Irtysh, which brings you to the Roclaws four years hence."
"The Roclaws? Do you truly think your mountain tribesmen can defeat me?"
I shrugged. "If they saw you as a serious threat, don't you think they would have sent more than me to kill you?"
I heard a couple of the Elves laugh at my question, though a stern glance from their leader silenced them. I looked at Finndali. "Were I you, m'lord, I would take the blade now. You would find its price dear if you were to require Cleaveheart from the hand of a Roclawzi."
The Elf ignored me. "I find these younglings quite dolorous in general, but this one is a particular annoyance. Too moronic to be properly terrified."
"Pathetic." Tashayul drew Khiephnaft and presented it hilt first to Finndali. "I had thought to vet the blade's abilities by slaying him myself, but I will grant you this honor."
"Your offer is appreciated and laced with temptation, but it is your blade."
"And you dishonor it," I spat at the both of them. "Turning that fine piece of war-steel into a butcher's hatchet. Blades are what they learn, and you can't teach warring with an execution."
"Youngling superstition," scoffed the Elf.
Tashayul agreed with a nod. "Silly mountain nonsense."
"Mayhap be, but my sword learned well the drinking of Reithrese blood." Summoning a contemptuous scowl to my face, I looked from Elf to Reithrese, then raised my chin to expose my throat. "Kill me. I'll have no more of the company of cowards who dare not examine the lessons my blade has mastered."
The Reithrese conqueror threw his head back in a hearty laugh. "Is that what you want. Mad Neal? You want a chance to fight me?"
"I was thinking I wanted to kill you, but I'll settle for the latter." I shrugged. "Of course, I'm not so close to newborn that I'd expect a fair fight."
That brought the general around and even appeared to spark some interest in Finndali's eyes. "The fight has not even begun, yet you already accuse me of treachery?"
"I'd be more charitable were I not wearing these ropes. I'll be facing a battle veteran with a special sword."
"Ah, but you were bragging that you had slain a number of my kinsmen."
I frowned. "True. Still, there is the matter of the blade and this fine company you have gathered around you."
The Reithrese watched me closely. "You have a compromise to suggest?"
"Since I'm just fighting you, not killing you, I'm thinking that if I pink you with my blade, I should be allowed my life and a day's ride."
"Else you might be forced to kill me and my warriors?"
I let Tashayul's sarcastic tone pass unnoticed. "I might take pity on them and only wound them, but I'm thinking that's the likely result, m'lord."
The Reithrese eyed me up and down, then nodded slowly. "Blood me with your blade and I will give you four years. Four years to prepare the Roclaws for my wrath."
I swallowed hard and nodded. "Done."
"Good."
"One more thing."
A pained look passed over Tashayul's face. "What is it?"
I nodded toward the Elven leader. "If my pinking should kill you, Khiephnaft is mine. I want it from his lips."
Tashayul shrugged. "For the sake of the fight, m'lord?"
The Elf nodded. "Aarundel, his bonds."
Another Elf left the company of his fellows and approached me. Holding his bow and a nocked arrow in his right hand, and a bared dagger in his left, he dropped to one knee beside me. The knife's edge made short work of the ropes. I slapped him on the shoulder, prompting a shudder in his captain that this Aarundel did
Tashayul chuckled as he shook his head and let mock surprise wash over his face. "Only four years? How did you arrive at that number?"
I decided not to tell him that were the prophecy about his death true, I'd need those years to prepare. I lied instead. "A year each for the conquest of Ispar, Barkol, and Irtysh, which brings you to the Roclaws four years hence."
"The Roclaws? Do you truly think your mountain tribesmen can defeat me?"
I shrugged. "If they saw you as a serious threat, don't you think they would have sent more than me to kill you?"
I heard a couple of the Elves laugh at my question, though a stern glance from their leader silenced them. I looked at Finndali. "Were I you, m'lord, I would take the blade now. You would find its price dear if you were to require Cleaveheart from the hand of a Roclawzi."
The Elf ignored me. "I find these younglings quite dolorous in general, but this one is a particular annoyance. Too moronic to be properly terrified."
"Pathetic." Tashayul drew Khiephnaft and presented it hilt first to Finndali. "I had thought to vet the blade's abilities by slaying him myself, but I will grant you this honor."
"Your offer is appreciated and laced with temptation, but it is your blade."
"And you dishonor it," I spat at the both of them. "Turning that fine piece of war-steel into a butcher's hatchet. Blades are what they learn, and you can't teach warring with an execution."
"Youngling superstition," scoffed the Elf.
Tashayul agreed with a nod. "Silly mountain nonsense."
"Mayhap be, but my sword learned well the drinking of Reithrese blood." Summoning a contemptuous scowl to my face, I looked from Elf to Reithrese, then raised my chin to expose my throat. "Kill me. I'll have no more of the company of cowards who dare not examine the lessons my blade has mastered."
The Reithrese conqueror threw his head back in a hearty laugh. "Is that what you want. Mad Neal? You want a chance to fight me?"
"I was thinking I wanted to kill you, but I'll settle for the latter." I shrugged. "Of course, I'm not so close to newborn that I'd expect a fair fight."
That brought the general around and even appeared to spark some interest in Finndali's eyes. "The fight has not even begun, yet you already accuse me of treachery?"
"I'd be more charitable were I not wearing these ropes. I'll be facing a battle veteran with a special sword."
"Ah, but you were bragging that you had slain a number of my kinsmen."
I frowned. "True. Still, there is the matter of the blade and this fine company you have gathered around you."
The Reithrese watched me closely. "You have a compromise to suggest?"
"Since I'm just fighting you, not killing you, I'm thinking that if I pink you with my blade, I should be allowed my life and a day's ride."
"Else you might be forced to kill me and my warriors?"
I let Tashayul's sarcastic tone pass unnoticed. "I might take pity on them and only wound them, but I'm thinking that's the likely result, m'lord."
The Reithrese eyed me up and down, then nodded slowly. "Blood me with your blade and I will give you four years. Four years to prepare the Roclaws for my wrath."
I swallowed hard and nodded. "Done."
"Good."
"One more thing."
A pained look passed over Tashayul's face. "What is it?"
I nodded toward the Elven leader. "If my pinking should kill you, Khiephnaft is mine. I want it from his lips."
Tashayul shrugged. "For the sake of the fight, m'lord?"
The Elf nodded. "Aarundel, his bonds."
Another Elf left the company of his fellows and approached me. Holding his bow and a nocked arrow in his right hand, and a bared dagger in his left, he dropped to one knee beside me. The knife's edge made short work of the ropes. I slapped him on the shoulder, prompting a shudder in his captain that this Aarundel did
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