The Spirit Banner (24 page)

Holuin led them across the camp to where a large circular ring had been laid out on the ground in front of an oversize wooden platform. The sides of the circle were made of piled stone that came up to about midthigh. The center was packed dirt that was frozen rock solid this time of year. Atop the platform stood a large
ger
fashioned of blue felt; it wasn't quite as big as the one they'd discovered inside the Tomb of the Virgins, but it was close.
Annja guessed that it belonged to the Wolf, the mysterious clan leader they'd been hearing about but had yet to see or meet.
Holuin crossed the circle, climbed the steps to the platform and then disappeared inside the
ger
, leaving her to wait with Davenport and her two guards at the edge of the circle.
After several long, anxious moments, the horn sounded again. This time it blew three long notes, which was a signal for the clan to gather together. They began to arrive shortly thereafter in twos and threes, finding places along the edges of the circle.
The door on the blue
ger
opened and Holuin stepped back out. Behind him, Annja caught a glimpse of an older Mongolian man seated in a chair by the doorway, looking out through the thin silk inner door.
The guards indicated that Annja should enter the circle, so she climbed over the wall and walked into the center.
Holuin pinned back the heavy door of the
ger
, leaving only a thin semitransparent covering over the entrance. When he was finished he came down off the platform and explained the rules to her, of which there were few.
"This is a fight to the death. The winner proves their worth to the clan and walks away. The loser joins his ancestors. Each fighter may use one weapon. As challenger you have first choice, though your opponent may choose the same blade if he desires."
He paused, as if to wait for questions.
"Who am I fighting?" she asked, looking around for her opponent.
Holuin waited until she turned her attention back to him and then grinned. "Me."
It was not the answer Annja had been expecting, nor was it a welcome one. She had seen him take on six opponents earlier as easily as if he'd been facing only one, and she knew she was going to need every ounce of her talent and skill to come out of this alive.
For the first time, she doubted her strategy was a smart one.
Too late now.
A table had been set up to one side of the ring and it held a series of weapons. Annja walked over to inspect them. Holuin kept back a respectful distance, not wanting her to use any of the weapons on him in some misguided attempt to escape probably, but that was fine with her as it gave her the opportunity she needed.
If I'm going to fight, I'm going to do it with my own sword, thank you very much.
Pretending to be examining the various blades, she picked them up and put them down again, piling them up to one side. When the pile was large enough to hide what she intended to do, she reached into it while at the same time summoning her own blade from the otherwhere, hoping the tangled mess would hide the sudden appearance of her sword from their eyes.
When she turned to face the group, no one said anything about it.
She carried Joan's sword, her sword, with her into the center of the circle and waited while Holuin chose his own blade.
He selected a bejeweled weapon with a long narrow blade. It was slightly shorter than her own, but probably lighter, as well, which, when combined with his speed, eliminated any advantage she might have from her longer blade. It was a good choice and Annja's respect for his ability went up a notch.
Holuin took up position in one half of the circle and Annja did the same in the other. From where she stood she could see over Holuin's shoulder and noted the figure standing just inside the entrance of the
ger,
watching them through the gossamer curtain.
Hello, Wolf.
On impulse, she raised her sword and saluted him.
She was just turning her attention back to her opponent when the horn sounded for a third time that afternoon, signaling the start of the fight.
Holuin didn't waste any time; the moment the horn sounded he moved in swiftly, perhaps hoping his larger size and years of experience would allow him to end things sooner rather than later.
Annja, however, wouldn't be so cooperative.
As he swung at her midsection, she dropped the point of her sword and met Holuin's blade with the edge of her own, channeling the energy of her attacker's strike away from her and toward the ground instead. She twisted and brought her own weapon up in a semicircular motion that sent it swinging back toward Holuin's neck, hoping for a lucky strike to end it all before it had barely begun.
But her opponent was too good to be taken out that quickly and he easily blocked her strike, in turn.
He went low suddenly, his blade flashing out in a strike intended to cut her off at the knees, but Annja easily leaped over the blade, slashing with a strike of her own even before her feet were back on the ground.
Houlin was forced to step back, out of the reach of her blade, in order to avoid it but came back at her quickly in a flurry of blows, trying to overwhelm her with his strength and brutality.
Annja, however, had been in more than her fair share of sword fights lately and she recognized what he was trying to do. She gave ground before him, letting him think he was driving her backward, and then, when he was committed to his next blow, she sidestepped suddenly, letting his momentum carry him past her. She struck out with her right foot in a near-perfectly executed side kick, catching him in the small of the back and sending him stumbling forward.
As she moved to take advantage of her opportunity, he turned his stumble into a shoulder roll, twisting around as he went so that he came back up on his feet to meet her attack without looking the worse for wear.
This was not going to be an easy fight, Annja thought.
The strikingly similar look he gave her let her know that he was thinking the very same thing.
So be it.
Back and forth they went, blow after blow, twisting and turning, moving about inside the confines of the circle, each one striving to gain the upper hand and deliver the winning blow.
Holuin drew first blood, catching Annja with the tip of his sword as she spun away from him and carving a thin line across her left hip.
The crowd around them cheered to see their champion wound his opponent.
It wasn't long before she returned the favor, however, catching him with a slashing blow that cut through the meat of his shoulder, and they cheered just as loudly for her.
Apparently, all the spectators wanted was a good fight.
Houlin and she were well matched. Every time she thought she'd found a chink in his armor, he managed to get away. Every time he thought he was about to deliver a killing strike, she was no longer where he expected her to be. It went around and around like that for some time.
Annja knew a longer conquest would favor her opponent. She could feel herself getting tired already, her muscles not responding as quickly to the commands her brain was giving them as they had at the start of the battle. Despite the difference in their ages, he fought and trained in this weather and altitude every single day, which gave him a distinct advantage. If it came down to a battle of sheer stamina, he would win. Annja had no doubt about that.
She, of course, had to do something to prevent that from happening.
Her life, and Davenport's, depended on it.
She began to favor her left side, keeping it back slightly and being just a hair slower when turning in that direction. She knew he would see: what she wanted him to see; a tired opponent with an injury she was trying to favor.
Most fighters would shield that region, trying to protect it. The savvy fighter knew that was exactly the wrong strategy to use, however, as it telegraphed your problem to your opponent and left you vulnerable in other areas as you devoted all your energy to defending your injury.
Annja hoped Holuin's ego would get the better of him, that he would think of her as inexperienced and take the bait.
Thankfully, he did.
He came in with determination, trying to make her fall back on her injured limb, probably hoping she would stumble and drop to the ground if he pressured her hard enough.
Their blades flashed in the sun and rang against each other with every blow.
Annja's world narrowed down to just her and her opponent. No one else mattered.
She bided her time, waiting for just the right moment, all the while allowing Holuin to force her backward, letting him think she was growing even more tired and weak.
Then, when the moment was right, she stumbled, making it look as if her leg had just failed her.
As expected, Holuin came in with a horizontal strike designed to slice her throat wide open, or force her to put weight on her injured leg in the hope that she would fall over backward when it failed to support her.
Annja leaned back at the waist, letting Holuin's blade pass by her face before meeting it one-handed with her own, forcing it farther forward and down, preventing him from doing a quick reversal. At the same time she pushed off her "bad" leg, using it to propel her forward with much more force than Holuin expected.
She had a moment to catch the surprise on his face as he realized she'd suckered him and then her left elbow was coming around with all of her body weight behind it. She struck him in the head, felt the shock of the blow reverberate back up her arm, knew even before he began to stumble backward that it had been a good, clean strike.
But Annja wasn't done yet.
She kept moving, left foot planted hard against the dirt, using the momentum of her strike to whip her body around in a full circle that brought her right leg up and over in a vicious strike that connected with her opponent's exposed throat.
Holuin's sword went flying as he was flung to the ground by the force of the blow.
Annja was on him in a second, the point of her sword held against the tender flesh of his throat.
Point. Set. Match.
He looked up at her without fear.
"Go ahead," he said calmly, through his bruised and battered throat. "You have no choice. You must end it. The law of the Challenge will not let them release you while we both still live."
For just a moment, she was tempted. The anger and frustration she felt over all that had happened since she'd left the dig in Mexico needed an outlet and, just seconds before, this man had been doing his best to try and kill her. Now he lay beneath her blade, unarmed and helpless. It would be so easy, too; just a few extra ounces of pressure against the hilt and that would be that.
She raised her gaze and looked out over the crowd.
They were completely silent, watching her, waiting to see what she would do. Even Davenport was spellbound. It was as if the whole world was holding its breath, waiting, wondering, watching.
In the end, though, she had no choice but to disappoint them. Killing a man who is trying to kill you is one thing. Killing a man who was at your mercy was another. It wasn't right and her conscience wouldn't let her do it.
She pulled her sword away from his throat and stepped away.
"No," she said. "There's been enough killing."
The crowd erupted, shouting and yelling, though she had no idea what they were saying. Holuin hadn't moved. He stayed flat on the ground, watching her with wide eyes, as if he couldn't believe he was still alive.
Annja turned to face the crowd. "I will not kill him," she yelled in English, then followed it with one of the few Mongolian words she knew.
"Ugui,"
she said. "No."
She turned around and started walking toward Davenport. If they wanted to kill her they would. There wasn't anything she could do about it. But she wouldn't be a party to any more killing.
She was halfway across the circle, suddenly exhausted now that all the adrenaline had left her system, and she was doing all she could to stay on her feet, when Davenport's eyes popped open wide and he shouted at her.
"Look out!"
Annja whirled around, her sword coming back up, knowing she was already too late.
She found her opponent just a few feet away, his weapon already raised over his head in preparation for the downward strike, his muscles tensing as he brought his arms forward.
His blade fell toward her face as her own swung upward.
From the look in his eyes and the smile of triumph on his face she knew she wasn't going to be in time.
"Ugui!"
The shout was loud, jarring, and with the unmistakable force of command.
Holuin froze in midmotion, his muscles straining at the force needed to stop his killing blow.
Annja gazed at him in stunned disbelief, amazed that she wasn't already dead as her own sword swept harmlessly through the space between them.
A long stream of angry Mongolian filled the air. It was coming from the old but fit-looking man who now stood in front of the entrance to the blue
ger
, the same one she had seen looking out earlier during the challenge.
Holuin's response was immediate. He put his weapon down and bowed to her. He held that position, his neck exposed to her blade.
Confused, she looked over at the Wolf, wondering just what on earth was going on.
The leader of the Mongols drew a finger across his throat.
That was one symbol that didn't need interpretation; he was offering her Holuin's life for his attempt at striking her when she had already won the duel.
Annja kept her sword where it was and shook her head.
The Wolf gestured at her again, this time with more emphasis, as if he thought she hadn't understood.
Again, she shook her head. To show she knew what he was telling her, she jabbed her sword into the ground and then stepped forward. With a hand on Holuin's shoulder, she drew him upright.
For just a moment she could see the cold sense of relief in Holuin's eyes and then the mask he typically wore fell back over his emotions, hiding his true feelings once more.
Again, the Wolf stared at her. Annja decided the Mongol leader was well named—she felt like a rabbit caught in the stare of a predator determined to make her its dinner.
Much to her surprise, the Wolf blinked first, turning away and shouting something over his shoulder as he reentered his
ger.
"He wants you to join him."
Annja stared at Holuin, incredulous. "You can't be serious?"
For some reason, the defeated Mongol found that amusing. Through his laughter, he assured her that he had never been more serious.
The Wolf wanted her company. Now.
Holuin had just been ordered to see to it that she joined the Wolf in his tent.