[This post is from Sif’s point of view.]
Her gaze was fixed on him, one hand resting lightly on the blade at her hip. Sif picked her ground carefully, stopping in a place that would yield slightly higher ground than where she expected Anhur to stop—and there was no doubt in her mind that he would stop. She kept her posture loose, open, though in truth she was ready to draw her sword at any moment, or to throw the knife secreted in her sleeve.
Lightning licked silently through the clouds above. Idly, she wondered for a moment how much effort it was taking to keep the thunder quiet.
His boot crunched softly on a dry twig as he drew to a stop, perhaps ten feet away. His dark cloak shrouded him and while he appeared unarmed, Sif knew better—he was too much like her for that. His pale blue eyes met hers, his jaw set as he regarded her with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. A short mop of brownish-red dreadlocks woven through with cowrie shells and beads fell to just shy of his jaw.
“Sif Freyesdottir,” Anhur said softly. “Isn’t this an unexpected surprise. Shouldn’t you be off with your fellows fighting a war that’s already over?”
“I am where I am meant to be,” she answered, meeting his gaze steadily. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
“Likely.” He lifted his chin slightly, offering her a glimpse of a pale line of scar tissue that stood out in stark contrast to his café-au-lait skin, a mark on his neck that represented what she knew had been the killing blow Thordin had struck all those years ago. “But I, too, am where I am meant to be. My masters, it seems, are more merciful than your own.”
It was a barb, she knew, and it struck cleanly. Her jaw tightened for a moment before she forced it to relax.
I will have years to make up for the centuries we lost.
What he said, though—he doesn’t know. Praise be, he doesn’t know.
“Have you come to parley with me on their behalf, then?” He gestured vaguely toward the walls behind her. Sif didn’t look back; her gaze remained steadily on him.
“I have,” she said, her voice steady. “Do you object?”
“No, not at all. I suppose you were a logical choice, all things considered, despite our sordid history.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward into a rueful smile. “You are quite the warrior. I remember that well.”
“And a skilled hunter are you, for all the good it did.” Steady. Don’t bait him if it gives you no advantage to do it. “Why have you come here, Anhur?”
He stared at her, one brow arching almost delicately, as if he were questioning her intelligence with a simple gesture. Sif just stared right back at him—almost through him—and waited.
I will not be the one to give way first.
After a few minutes of silence, Anhur inclined his head slightly. “Very well, then. I have come help my lady fulfill her obligations and obtain what is due her as recompense as per a contract she had made with the Witch-Goddess. She was to obtain a share of the spoils should the Hecate be successful in acquiring her quarry from your allies. Further, she was to ensure that you and yours did not trouble the Hecate again after the girl obtained her objective. From what I understand, her objective has been reached but the girl has vanished. Menhit suspects foul play was involved and frankly, I believe she is correct—just as I believe that she is likewise correct in suspecting that it might be your allies that are responsible for the disappearance. So here I am, the harbinger of my lady’s coming.” Anhur smiled and it sent ice sluicing through her guts. “She will have what is due her, Mistress of the Valkyries. Abandon them, and live. Stand with them, and suffer as they will. It makes no difference to me.”
“Then you will not negotiate?”
“There is nothing to negotiate,” Anhur said, then gave her a regretful smile. “If only there were, but her contract and her aim is clear. She knows what must be done and I will assist her in this—as I should have been doing for two thousand years and more.”
“Very well,” Sif said, her voice rock-steady despite the churning of her stomach and the pounding of her heart. Anhur stared at her, like a predator sizing up its competition. She stood firm, her gaze never leaving his. “Does she grant us time, then?”
“I am her vanguard,” Anhur said. “She will be upon you soon.”
“Then she is near enough to see how this goes,” Sif said.
“Likely.”
She nodded once. “I am sorry, then.”
The hunter’s gaze turned wary. “For what?”
Her blade whispered free of its scabbard and Sif charged.
Slight typo- ‘But I, too, am where I am meant to me.’ I think that should be ‘be’.
Thanks! I’ll fix that as soon as I get to my computer this evening.