The Diamond Warriors. David Zindell
considered this as I drew out the handkerchief that I always kept close to me. I unfolded it, and I gazed at its center, at the single long, coiled, golden hair, no different from any of Atara’s other hairs. And I whispered to her, ‘One chance for victory, you said, as slender as this hair. And one chance only that I will marry you.’
‘One chance,’ she said, squeezing her crystal. ‘And I must make it be. And so must you.’
I felt a stream of fear burn down my throat as if I had swallowed molten silver. And I asked her, ‘Will I ever see you again?’
She smiled in her mysterious way, and said, ‘The better question might be: will I ever see you again? As the king you must be?’
‘Tomorrow will be the test of that,’ I told her.
‘No,’ she said with a wave of her hand, ‘I do not mean King of Mesh, but King of the World. And not this world, as Morjin wishes to rule, but a true king, of starfire and diamond, such as has never been before on Ea.’
I considered this, too, then said, ‘I am not sure I know what you mean.’
‘I am not sure that I do either,’ she said. ‘But I once told you that I can never be the woman I have hoped to be until you become the man you were born to be. The one I have always dreamed of.’
Because her words cut at me, I pressed my fist against my chest. ‘But I am who I am, Atara. And I am just a man.’
‘And that one I have always loved, with all my heart, with all my soul,’ she told me. ‘The man who is just a man – and an angel, too.’
At this, I looked off at the walls of the tent, hoping that no one was listening in on our words. ‘You shouldn’t speak that way of anyone, not even me.’
‘No, I shouldn’t, should I?’ she said. ‘But I can’t help myself, and never have been able to. Most people take too little upon themselves; a few take too much. They look in the mirror and behold a giant, immortal and invincible. I was always afraid of being one of these. I wanted to make everything perfect. Or, at least, to see things come out as they should. And that is why, when I look at my fate, and yours, I want to laugh or cry, and sometimes I don’t know which.’
‘But why, then?’ I said, not fully understanding her.
And she grasped hold of my hand and said, ‘Because that is the strange, strange thing about our lives, Val. It might really be upon us to save the world.’
She started laughing then, and so did I: deep, belly laughs that shook the whole of my body and brought tears to my eyes. I drew Atara closer, and kissed her lips, her forehead and the white band of cloth covering the empty spaces where her eyes used to be. And I whispered in her ear: ‘I will miss you so badly – as the night does the sun.’
‘And I will miss you,’ she told me. ‘Until I see you again in the darkest of places, where it seems there is no sun – only Valashu, the Morning Star.’
She kissed me then, long and deeply, and I didn’t think she would have cared if anyone had heard the murmurs of delight and fear within our throats or had seen us sitting with our arms wrapped around each other for what seemed like hours. At last, though, we broke apart. Atara said that she had to go feed her horse and prepare for a long journey. And I must prepare to meet my fate – or make it – when the sun rose on the morrow.
On the twenty-first day of Soldru, early on a morning of blue skies and brilliant sunlight, I put on my diamond armor and girded my sword at my side. When I came out of my pavilion, my companions and counselors stood on the crushed grass of our encampment’s central lane waiting for me. I nodded at Lord Avijan, tall and grave, and resplendent in his blue surcoat emblazoned with its golden boar. Likewise I greeted Lord Harsha, Lord Sharad, Lord Noldashan and others. Maram also had donned a suit of diamond armor, as had Kane. My invincible friend stood between Atara and Liljana as if ready to ride on a pleasant outing in the countryside – or to go to war. His harsh face radiated anticipation, wrath, joy and his fiery will to crush anyone who opposed him. I had thought that he must spend the next few days or weeks recuperating from his dreadful wound. I should have known better. According to what Liljana later told me, Kane had awakened before dawn calling for a haunch of bloody meat. He had drawn great strength from this savage meal, hour by hour regaining his nearly bottomless vitality. With a new adventure now at hand, he seemed ready to battle any or all of Lord Tomavar’s knights on my behalf.
‘So, Val,’ he said to me with a nod of his head, ‘this is the day.’
With Sar Shivalad, Sar Jonavar, Sar Kanshar and Joshu Kadar acting as my guardians, I led forth down the lane and into the square. The two thousand warriors and knights who had originally pledged to Lord Avijan stood drawn up in full battle armor along its eastern side. The sun poured down upon their neat, sparkling ranks. So it was with Lord Tanu’s men and Lord Tomavar’s, at the southern and western edges of the square. Along the northern perimeter, the Lords Ramanu, Bahram and Kharashan had arrayed their smaller forces in three separate groupings, next to a veritable mob of the two thousand free warriors. Into the square’s four corners crowded the women, children, old men and a few outlanders who had come to witness the day’s events. I reminded myself that they must be evacuated from the field at the first sign of trouble.
I walked straight out to the center of the square with my companions, and so it was with the other lords who would be king. I paid little heed to either Lord Bahram or Lord Ramanu, or even Lord Kharashan, a thick, bullnecked old warrior whose square face showed little guile. Lord Tanu stood to my left with Lord Eldru, Sar Shagarth and the grizzled Lord Ramjay slightly behind him. A small, dark, dangerous-looking man, Lord Tanu’s cousin, Lord Manamar, had joined them as well.
Straight across from me waited Lord Tomavar. I had not seen him since the year before at the Culhadosh Commons, and he still looked much the same: very tall, with great broad shoulders and long arms used to swinging a sword. His white surcoat, draped over his heavily-muscled body, showed the black tower of his line. Grief still tormented his long, horsey face, which he positioned facing me square-on as if in challenge. I liked his eyes, for they were deep and quick and shone with a ready courage. My father had valued him greatly as the finest of tacticians and a warrior who inspired his men to fight with a terrible ferocity. And I knew that he had esteemed my father, though it seemed he held only grievance and suspicion toward me.
‘Lord Valashu Elahad,’ he said, greeting me formally, ‘I should like it made known from the beginning of this gathering that you do the warriors great insult in asking them to stand for you again, where they have already stood against you.’
His words, carried by his loud, deep, powerful voice, blasted out into the square. His rage and deep anguish stunned me. So did the fury that darkened his black eyes. He took advantage of my silence to try immediately to preempt my bid to become king.
‘Lord Tanu!’ he called out, turning to his right where Lord Tanu stood with Lord Manamar and his other captains. ‘We have marched in many campaigns and fought in many battles together. Your men trust you, even as King Shamesh did, and all those who know you. If I should be struck down here today by a bolt of lightning, is there anyone in Mesh who would make a better king? It is in recognition of your services to our land and your prowess as the greatest of knights that I would like to honor you. Command your warriors to pledge to me, and I shall make you Lord Protector of Mesh and Lord Commander of my army!’
Lord Tomavar’s captains – Lord Vishand, Sar Jarval and the elegant Lord Arajay Solval – pressed up close behind him as if they could not quite believe what they had just heard. They seemed as surprised as the rest of Lord Tomavar’s warriors, drawn up across the square. It seemed that Lord Tomavar’s offer to Lord Tanu had been an inspiration of the moment, based upon Lord Tomavar’s keen instincts and his reading of Lord Tanu.
‘Lord