Lysander slept well that night. He slept the sleep of the righteous, for so he thought himself. He was never plagued by nerves before a duel, no matter how high the stakes.
Liam’s rest was more troubled. First of all, every time he rolled onto his left side, a shooting pain would erupt in his arm, starting him from sleep. But even after he had wedged himself into a corner of the bed, he still had trouble sleeping well. He was worried about what would happen should Lysander lose. Worse, what would happen should he win.
As the first light of dawn crested the eastern horizon, Liam again reflected that the desert men may not take up Lysander’s mad challenge. At this point, they really had little reason to do so. Especially if Lysander’s reputation preceded him. But the more Liam thought about it, the more he was sure what ever man lead these people would accept the challenge, and gladly.
He had set half his city to the torch to give warning to his brethren out in the desert and to help his people escape. The entire defense of Debobat had been designed to prevent as much loss of life on the part of the desert people as possible. No, Liam was sure the head of the defenders was a man like himself. He would do what it took to preserve the lives of his people. And that meant this duel was inevitable.
Liam wasn’t sure how he felt about the outcome. He had already failed the Emperor once, and while that shame burned within him, he knew that he could survive it. And this time, he would have Lysander’s brash act as the reason, rather than apparent incompetence on his part. Except for allowing a man under his command to make such a foolish offer to a people that were clearly doomed to fall to Imperial forces.
Liam sighed deeply. Whatever the outcome of this day's events, he knew he would feel regret.
*******
“Ho the defenses!” Lysander called, stepping out into the open, his helm tucked under one arm, his head bared, a water bag held in his other hand. “I wish to speak with your leader!”
Lysander had read up on the enemy and he knew that one seeking shelter approached with their head uncovered. He also knew that a guest was required to offer a host water to drink. He had no idea if the normal rules applied in a war-like situation. But as he was seeking parlay, he felt it was best to approach as a guest.
“And why should our leader speak to you?” Lysander raised an eyebrow. It was a strong female voice that shouted back the reply. That was unexpected. From what he had read, he had thought men ruled this society.
“I wish to discuss terms of ending this battle without further bloodshed!”
“You wish to withdraw?” There was a mocking note in the feminine voice and hoots of laughter exploded from the wattle and plaster buildings. Lysander began to fume.
“We wish to negotiate a settlement that will require only one more of your people to die,” he roared back.
There was a flurry of activity near the center of the defenses and a woman stepped forward. Lysander sized her up immediately. She was wearing the costume of a warrior and held a short spear in her left hand. It had a large, leaf shaped blade. The sun glinted off its sharpened edges. She also had a sling on her right hip.
“And which one is that?”
“I am Lysander Hammersong and I come to challenge the leader of this band to honorable combat. Should your leader win, my men will withdraw from the field. Should I win, I expect your people to surrender.”
“And why should we trust the word of an Imperial sandsnake, you who have violated the Pact of Dhereshu?!”
“You have my word, sworn by my place in the Empire,” Liam said, stepping forward. He didn’t shout, but his voice carried forward across the open square that marked the dividing line between the forces.
The eyes of the woman with the spear widened a bit. “And who are you to give this oath?”
“Liam Donal, Commander of the Imperial
“Sand and sun!” someone cried from the defenses. Lysander’s reputation may not have reached the desert people, but there were few in the Empire who had not heard of Liam. And he had just sworn the highest oath an Imperial citizen could.
The desert spokeswoman considered this. “Very well. We acknowledge your oath and accept your challenge.”
Lysander heaved the water bag across the intervening distance. “Take this water, as is your right.”
The woman bent, picking up the bag. She opened the top and then upended the bag, spilling the precious fluid upon the ground. Silence reigned across the square. Lysander knew enough to know he’d been dealt a deadly insult. His back stiffened.
“You have one hour to send out your champion! He shall face me, here in this square!”
“The time will not be needed. You will face me, Faisal of the Grey Rocks!”
“A woman?” Lysander laughed. “I issued a challenge to fight, not to bedsport!”
Color rose in Faisal’s cheeks. “Come let us dance the blades and see who sleeps with Borobakil tonight!”
So saying, she raised her spear and charged.
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