The Floodgate   ::   Каннингем Элейн

It flipped end over end and fell, pointdown. She caught the sword as it fell, her hands fisted at the midpoint of the blade. Blood seeped from between her white-knuckled fingers as she clenched the weapon. She caught Matteo's eye, sneered, and spat.

Then she raised the sword point to her chest and with both hands drove it into her own heart.

With her last strength she threw herself backward, as if determined not to fall prostrate at his feet. She landed hard and her arms flew out wide. Her bloody hands spasmed into clenched fists, slowly opened, and fell slack.

For a long, shocked moment Matteo stared at the dead warrior.

"It is their custom," Andris said softly. "A Crinti who feels herself disgraced will chose death over shame. They are a brutal people, but proud."

Matteo slowly turned to his friend. "How did you come by this knowledge?"

Andris swept one hand in a wide circle that encompassed the high, wild country. "This is the Nath. If you wish to survive, you must learn of its dangers."

"That does not mean you must join them!" Matteo protested. "Gods above, Andris, what are you doing?"

The jordain's ghostly jaw firmed. "What I think is right. Go your way, and leave me to it."

"You know that I cannot. Kiva must be found and stopped. The Crinti bandits are my only link to her."

Even as he spoke, he knew his words to be false. The shuttered expression on Andris's ghostly face forced Matteo to admit the full and painful truth.

"You fight with Kiva again," he marveled, "and with the accursed Crinti! Andris, what could possibly justify such an alliance?"

"Halruaa," Andris said shortly. "My vows as a jordain. The wrongs done to my elf forebears."

"Kiva is a traitor to Halruaa. How is it possible to serve the land by following one who betrayed it?"

"Do not judge me, Matteo," Andris warned. "For both our sakes, do not hinder me."

For a moment Matteo stood, torn by his own conflicting loyalties and by the plea in Andris's eyes. Slowly he threw away the Crinti's sword. A smile that was both relieved and sad touched Andris's face, only to die when Matteo drew his jordaini daggers.

"Return with me, Andris," he said quietly.

In response, the ghostly jordain drew a dagger of his own and dropped into a defensive crouch.

Matteo tried one last time. "I don't want to fight you, my friend!"

"Small wonder. You usually lose."

Andris's hand flashed forward. His dagger stopped well short of Matteo's lighting-quick parry, but the jordaini blade was not Andris's true weapon.