and raised his buckler shield and spear to face her. Scales protected his shoulders and torso. Thick animal skins hung over his loins and thighs. Predictably, he moved forward and thrust his spear at her visor slit.
Jymoor swept her sword to knock the spear aside. Instead, her weapon cut through the spear, sending its head flying. The barbarian growled and thwacked Jymoor across the helm with the remainder. His buckler swung around and smashed into her wounded left shoulder. The pain came back with crippling intensity.
Her sword pointed off to her left, way out of line with her opponent’s heart. In a flash of inspiration she spun away from her enemy to her left, completing a full circle to bring her sword back around, pointing at him. The spear haft hit her as she turned but it wasn’t a good blow. Her sword thrust through the scales on his torso. She quickly pulled her blade back out even though it was agony to do so.
Jymoor staggered over her felled opponent. She held her left arm to her torso, trying to ignore the throbbing pain.
If there is victory today, it probably won’t be because of me.
Jymoor didn’t see any enemies nearby. She pulled her helm off to get a better look. The rest of the barbarians were running away. Ascarans were pursuing them around the perimeter of Maristaple. Though there were still many of them, they’d been broken.
Jymoor sat down with her back against the wall. She rested for minutes there until a squad of Rikenese cavalry trotted up from the direction of the main gate.
“Are you wounded?”
“Moderately,” Jymoor admitted. “Thank you for coming to check.”
“Gladly. We got word the Crescent Knight was hurt by the wall and King Aruscetar sent us out to find you.”
“How goes the battle?”
“Well. The knights came out to help the Ascarans. I think one gate was sundered and a bloody fight resulted, but that’s far away.”
“I’ll be fine. Go help elsewhere.”
“Sorry, but the king’s orders,” the man said. They helped Jymoor onto one of the horses.
“We’ve won,” Vot voice returned to her head. “Though not without cost. Many Ascarans have given their lives. Also, Tuluk lies among the dead. No doubt we owe our victory largely to him. His body lies on the field with a thousand wounds.”
Chapter 21: A New Library
The city of Maristaple filled with revelers. Though everyone wanted to speak with the Great Yeel, the Crescent Knight, the mysterious Vot, or King Aruscetar, many had to satisfy themselves with only a glimpse of these famous figures at a distance. After a brief victory parade, they moved into the castle for a smaller celebration. Other more subtle groups, less jubilant, had dead to honor and graves to dig. The fallen were hailed as heroes who had saved the city in its most dire hour.
Vot and Yeel dined with the king that evening in a huge formal dining hall. Jymoor was present, and much more comfortable than she’d been at the table of men in Ascara-home, with Master Kasil at her side. Yeel had applied some advanced first aid, fusing Jymoor’s broken bones back together.
Before the meal commenced, King Aruscetar turned to Yeel.
“Great Yeel. Would you please accept the contents of the Library of Maristaple? We know the trove of knowledge would be safe in your wondrous house. Of course, you would be welcome to make personal use of any of the tomes and scrolls.”
“My house? Really? You would let me have all those books?”
“We ask only a few scribes and scholars be allowed to access it from time to time.”
“I must first and foremost thank you for trusting me with such valuable artifacts.”
“We owe equal thanks to Vot, for risking her precious army to aid in our defense,” Aruscetar announced. Many applauded.
“I’m glad Riken has been saved,” Vot said. “However, we’ll be forced to leave after we dine. The Ascarans can safely move out of the fortress and take up their traditional homes on the coast. They may need my assistance.”
“We’re in your debt,” Jymoor said. “Thank you for trusting us.”
“Come visit us again. See how peaceful it can be, under the green sky, without the threat of the Meridalae.”
“What of Tuluk?” asked Jymoor.
“There are two young males in his pod that will contend for mastery,” Vot said. “Though we will miss Tuluk, life goes on.”
***
Yeel watched the remnants of those Jymoor called his Companions. Of the fifty or so who had been rescued from the stone garden, less than half remained. Many