I remembered Nirav at first, but the excitement faded as the days went by.

We marched in the stifling heat that precedes the rain season in these parts. The tree branches swayed, showering me with condensed moisture. The tent's roof dripped with it. I scaled ruins next to the caved-in mine shafts left by those who dug for Enzara's gems since the times immemorial. I waded through the streams inhabited by venomous snakes and sharp-toothed fish.

In short, I had little time or energy for daydreaming as I closed in on the Tigress.

The Tigress made no secret of her approach. She barreled through the jungles. Her elephants stomped a wide trail through the greenery. Her High Scribes burned with magical fire everything that the elephants couldn't trample in her path.

I had no elephants. We didn't even bring our horses. My women filtered down the narrow beasts' trails like shadows until we converged onto our target. It was a deep gorge carved by a nameless tributary of the Enzara River. Once there, we waited for the Tigress to come to us.

I crouched in a low hollow full of rotting wood. Bunches of purple and blue flowers overhang our hiding spot. I pushed them aside to peer at the V-shaped cut of the valley. Its sides were so steep here and sloughed so much that the vines couldn't get a grip on the rock. The gap formed a natural pinch in the road just before it entered the narrowest part of the gorge. A lonely boulder sat on top of the cliff like a sentinel.

"Do you see it?" Miccola asked, tilting her head this way and that. "They say this boulder looks like a kneeling man?"

"Mmgh." I squinted at the rock. "Maybe if that's his shoulder... but no. No, I don't see a man."

A rock this remarkable was a local attraction. It was named Faithful Farid after a poor miner. The tale said that his lover, a merchant, had died on the high seas. He wouldn't believe the sad news. His lover would have to travel through this gap to return home, so he stayed on this high point overlooking the bend in the road. Eventually, Divine Indara turned Farid to stone, freeing his soul for rebirth and reunion with his lover in their next life. This Farid fared better than Naktym's first husband, because the legend recorded his name, but not his lover's name.

"Maybe we're looking at it from the wrong angle," Miccola pondered. "Maybe Farid had a giant pennis."

I perused the rock one more time and didn't see what she saw either. "How did you get this lonely this fast, Miccola? We've only been lying in wait for two days."

"No!" Miccola punched my shoulder. "I'm just worried that the Divines would get angry if it's actually Farid."

"The legend is no more than two hundred years old," Xenophonta said with a sigh. She had repeated this explanation to Miccola for the fifth time. That's only counting the times she did so in my presence. "This remarkable stone could be found on the maps for at least a thousand years. Hence, the fable is a product of fertile imagination, not a divine miracle."

I waved at her with both hands. "Don't spoil it with your logic! Not when Miccola had finally found a man after her heart. The size... the stamina... the charm. Farid is perfect for her."

Xenophonta's eyes, so similar to her father's in shape and color, were completely different in their dispassionate expression. "If so, I'm afraid it must be a short and torrid affair."

Smoke curled around the ancient rock as if in response to her words. I hoped that the flesh of my flesh was right. The last thing I wanted in my present situation was to offend the Divines. I could deal with the locals crying over the loss of their stone lover later, but I prayed for Indara's favor as much as I prayed for Mythra's. I needed both of Them to successfully ambush the Tigress.

Miccola checked the fit of the two curved knives strapped to her back. Or she pretended to do it so she could clandestinely touch Mythra's claw amulet on her neck.

"I miss a saber in hand and a horse between my thighs," she muttered. "Magic is not my thing."

Xenophonta opened her mouth to explain how what was happening on top of the cliff wasn't magic, but I silenced her with a glare. We had heard this explanation enough times, and it wasn't as entertaining as Farid's rock-hard genitals.

So, instead of a lecture on sulfur powder, fire and how they do it in which quarries where, Miccola heard the words of consolation she so yearned for.

"You'll get your bloodbath soon," I promised my Second-in-Command.

"Eh," Miccola grumbled. "Won't be the same as an honest cavalry charge on the plains."

I couldn't hold back a smug smile. Unlike her beloved saber, my axes worked in the jungles as perfectly as they did in the open field.

After this, we waited some more for Burandok the Tigress to make her approach.

The forest boughs dripped moisture on Miccola's boots. The sweet smell of decay wafted from every nook and cranny. Nirav's lace cuff was wetter than his kisses.

The smoke curled around the white rock for two days and three nights straight. My patrols were on the lookout for the Tigress' scouts, but not a single woman was spotted anywhere near it. Xenophonta did the same for the High Scribes spies. In case anyone slipped past us, the robust women and men cooking Farid's rock wore peasants' clothes. They pretended to celebrate Indara's festival up there.

Judging by the sounds that a gust of wind carried down to us once in a while, they role-played with enthusiasm.

Miccola sniggered every time we could hear the orgy up on high. "Stop fidgeting, Ismar! Didn't you have enough dancing with your pretty Duke?"

"Never enough," was my reply.

"You make me miss Ondrey," Miccola sighed. "At least he kept you sated."

She was right, and I missed him so much, I sat quietly for a while, wondering what he was doing and who he was with in the far-away land.

We didn't have to rely on the wind to hear Burandok's approach. The ground trembled under my ear before the speartips shone through the green leaves.

Xenophonta rose to her feet. She signaled a dozen archers and three High Scribes under her command to follow her. I recruited them among the youngest soldiers, but my daughter's subordinates were at least twice her age.

"Remember," I whispered to the group, "nepotism only hurts when you give birth to fools. And I didn't. May Mythra favor you."

"May Mythra favor you," they whispered back.

I gave each of them a penetrating stare and returned my attention to Burandok's troops filing down the path below our perch. Shivers of anticipation ran down my spine. The bloodbath I had promised Miccola was about to begin.

Faithful Farid, loosened by the heat of the burning charcoal then forced by a lever, came crashing down with the roar that echoed up and down the gorge. Unfortunately, it missed the lead elephant, but the Knowable World shook around us.

Divine Indara, forgive me!

The massive stone didn't break until it hit the ground. There, it cleaved into two parts, opening like a lotus bud. If it stayed that way, the locals were bound to decide that Farid was reunited with his lover. Once the practical considerations prevailed over the poetic ones—as they tended to—the road would be cleared. Let them, so long as it didn't happen today, for the rockfall cut Burandok's column in two.

I sprung to my feet, blowing a brassy note on my horn, the signal for the attack.

The ground gave way under my feet. Roots threatened to catch my ankles. The swinging vines whipped me as I rushed down the slippery slope. I made it through the hostile foliage.

One ax in each hand, I slashed at a Burandok's woman before me. She looked confused as the crescent blade opened her neck.The wound gushed blood. I yanked the ax, twisted away and attacked my next target. To my left and right, the cleavers of my fighters found purchase in the unsuspecting flesh. The jungles bloomed with blood-red flowers wherever I looked. The coppery smell overpowered the mustiness of the forest floor. The birds shut up and fled, except for the carrion-eaters.

Beyond the blockade, the ringing of steel on steel told Miccola's side of the story.

Burandok's soldiers were an army, not a gang, so the blades met my axes soon after the initial shock wore off. This put a grin on my face despite losing the strategic advantage—where is the joy in slaying those who don't defend themselves? Though I would slay the defenseless as well. Of course, I would if it meant victory and there was no other way to win.

Between the swords swinging at me and the swords turned away by the axes in a shower of sparks... eyes bulging at me with pulse-racing hatred... faces contorted from efforts to kill me... I saw her.

Burandok.

The Tigress.

Locked in the middle of the column by the other elephant riders, her giant body worked like a machine. She stood in her tower, tossing six spears at a time with her six arms. I saw one of mine overcome with the berserker's lust rush the Tigress. A spear impaled her through the throat with a frightful accuracy.

I gnashed my teeth. I hated her dying so much! But it was her own fault. Our task was to destroy as many of the rank and file as possible, rather than chasing the Tigress. She was the prize for another day.

Something sharp grazed my arm. I went back to the butcher's work and only looked for the great elephant, Samshona, to make sure I was out of the Tigress' spears reach.

In the slick cloud of blood and mist I kept the pressure on Burandok's troops. The brutality of our initial charge was our saving grace. However, it was choking as the time passed. Mythra carried our souls forth, but our bodies were human. Our arms tired from swinging the blades. Our feet tripped on the furrowed ground. We held on until the signal.

It came as a booming sound louder than the rockfall that had started our ambush. A pillar of fire burst into the sky far in the rear of the Tigress overstretched lines. Then another explosion rocked the Knowable World. This one wasn't brought on by charcoal and sulfur. This was magic.

I screamed at the women I was fighting, shoved one of them out of the way and ran under the cover of swinging branches. The only way for us to retreat was uphill. Good thing we stretched the ropes to help us while we were waiting.

The third explosion boomed. The third pillar of fire whooshed toward Tashaya's sun.

I climbed until I found the trail leading to the secret camp.

"Burn them, Xenophonta! Burn them, my darling!"

Twice more the fire scorched the jungle. It should be enough to obliterate the supply train.

What would you do now, O Tigress? Your turn tail. You go back to lick your singed fur.

The Tigress was a stubborn foe.

She only gave up on using the elephants to push the two stone blocks out of the way when the volleys of arrows overwhelmed her lead beast. The rocks didn't budge anyway. Burandok walked over to inspect the fallen giant, protected by the kite shields on all sides. She knelt for a while by the elephant's side. Probably thought about elephants being so much more expensive than women. And... she didn't give up. She rallied her infantry to get through on foot. My archers filled the sky with arrows until the bodies piled high on both sides of the rock gate. After the afternoon of slaughter, the elephants retreated to Var. Those who made it through continued toward Idezza.

I counted on it. We shadowed those who crossed into the valley, harassing them with swift attacks and arrows until Burandok remembered her math. She added up her lost supply train to her dwindling numbers and came up with a dismal sum.

Before turning back, she steepled two of her hands around her fanged mouth and roared, "Ismar, show yourself, you craven shrew! Fight me in a personal combat!"

The other four hands pointed swords of black steel in the compass' directions.

"Nice try," I muttered under my nose, then wiped grime and sweat from my brow. "You're about to beat a retreat, Your Royal Highness. I'm not a fool to turn a victory into defeat."

She roared more insults to the canopy. I didn't respond. Their horn sounded the retreat. I watched the striped back and the lashing tail disappear in the jungles.

"Farewell, Burandok," I said almost wistfully. I wanted to fight her.I stood a chance. Maybe. My legs jolted in the direction she went... no. Nirav needed me and this battle was finished. "But, by Mythra's fangs, we'll meet again!"

Miccola grabbed my arm. Her green eyes glittered in the dappled light under the forest's canopy. "We stopped her, Ismar! We stopped her!"

Hugging her was like hugging a tree.

We combed the jungles for the stragglers and harassed them for a few days, but my losses mounted as the wounds festered from the miasmas and heat. The time had come to crawl back to Idezza and lick my wounds too.

I called my cohorts. A Commander must look into her soldiers' eyes, particularly of those who would not make it back.

"Victory!" I cried and ripped the lid from a wooden box. "A great victory!"

A skeletal bird sprang from it to carry the joyous news to Idezza ahead of us.

My spirit lifted as my women cheered the bird to fly faster. Let the world hear that Ismar tore a strip from the Tigress' hide. And Nirav... Nirav would hear as well.

Even those professing to abhor war got caught in the exhilaration of its triumphs. Nirav would be titillated by it almost as much as I was, and that is why— My imagination took me away from the battle to its spoils.I patted down my person until I found the sorry strip of lace he gave me. I had forgotten all about it, but by some miracle I didn't lose it.

It was filthy and bloodstained, just like the rest of me. As I remembered it in its pristine white state, covering his wrist, the longing twisted my loins. There is nothing better than lust to take one's mind off of death and privation. I let myself feel that sweet knot in my lady-parts.

In my daydreams, Nirav was stark-naked but for a few yards of lace.