“I intend to.”
•••
On his side of the field, Ojo stretched, but his face was calm. Adechike stood beside him holding Ojo’s blades, animated as he talked about something.
Yochno walked to the center of the dueling arena with the bell.
“The Gauntlet begins! Kris Denn of Rumika challenges and Ojo Kante, Warder of Quloo, answers.”
Kris and Ojo shook hands as Yochno explained the rules. Each duel would be by bladecraft, to the first touch. For each duel, the warder could call a halt and cast their vote in support without a touch being needed. Kris knew this all by heart.
Hurry up and start already, Kris thought, barely keeping the words from their lips.
Endless moments later they were ready to begin. Kris had their plan in mind—empowering sigils for speed to accentuate their advantage, strength to compensate for their weaknesses, then magical attacks as they closed. Stay just outside Ojo’s range, then move in for a quick strike and then out of measure immediately. In and out. Don’t get bogged down.
But even the best plans were like paper umbrellas in the rain.
Yochno’s bell rang, and Kris started inscribing their first sigil. Gale Step for speed, then Grizzly’s Might for strength. Ojo was already closing, cutting his own Gale Step and Bamboo Form. Ojo was trying to counter Kris’s advantages.
Kris had the best sense of Ojo’s style after watching him duel Lavinia and spar with Adechike. But it was because of this familiarity that Kris knew to be wary. Ojo’s two blades could work in concert or on their own, one cutting a sigil while the other attacked or parried. Kris would have to meet two blades with one. Ojo had a longer reach but a larger body to protect. Kris’s blade was longer, which would counter some of the reach advantage. But Ojo was also an accomplished wrestler of no small acclaim.
First came Kris’s big opening gambit, meant to not only take immediate control of the duel but to awe the other warders.
Kris flowed from Grizzly’s Might immediately into Frost Cage, a rare sigil Kris had learned from a Tsukiseni at Rumika’s last invitational. Tsukiseni legend claimed that Frost Cage was first used by bladecrafters who wished to be preserved until the world was made whole once more. Grown tired of centuries of life due to the Tsukiseni birthright, they wished to skip ahead to a future that might never come.
Kris narrowed their eyes as they traced the intricate fractal snowflake pattern at the core of the sigil. The sigil flashed with light, and across the field, ice formed around Ojo’s hands. Kris had not just mastered the sigil, they’d modified it. Not only did the sigil lock Ojo’s hands in blocks of ice, the ice froze into one piece, locking the big man’s hands together.
But Ojo was not scared or angry. He merely laughed.
“Excellent! Even Taro hardly ever uses this one!”
Ojo wouldn’t be laughing if he were that worried. Kris closed quickly, but kept their guard up. Ojo might want Kris to win, but his reputation would suffer if he lost so easily.
Frost Cage was meant not only to hobble a bladecrafter’s ability to fight, but also to remove the precise dexterity it took to carve sigils.
And yet Ojo moved his arms at the elbow, tracing two tiny sigils with an exactitude Kris had thought impossible. Bladecrafters’ precision came from moving the blade with the fingers and wrist, never the elbow. The sigils flashed, which Kris recognized as Shattered Chains. As they activated, the ice crumbled and fell. Ojo was free once more.
Kris’s best opening had failed, hadn’t even worried their opponent. But Kris didn’t have time to mope as Ojo took a compass step forward, thrusting toward Kris’s shoulder. Kris parried with room to spare—room they needed to dodge Ojo’s other blade.
Kris cut at Ojo’s hand as they dodged back, but Ojo turned the blow aside, continuing to press forward into range.
Kris danced back double time to cut the sigil Mud Pit, the way Lavinia had done, but Ojo was too close. His blade beat Kris’s aside, fouling the sigil.
Ojo continued to press.
Kris backed off, keeping Ojo at a distance with precise counter-thrusts to the bigger man’s wrists, which Ojo warded off by pulling the blows or halting his advances.
The in-and-out strategy was not working. Time for something bolder, Kris thought. Not just for this duel, but to show the other warders, to show everyone in the audience, just what Rumika could do.
Kris planted both feet and then, using the still-active sigils of agility and strength, they leaped up and over Ojo. Ojo countered with his own leap, thrusting at Kris, but they flipped out of the way, blades clashing in midair.
Kris launched into a thrust as they landed, aiming low under Ojo’s guard to catch him across the hip. Ojo parried the blow, but just barely, using both of his blades.
That’s it. Kris took the moment, rolling forward with their blade held up in a hanging guard to protect against a counter from Ojo. Staying low, they swung the blade around to cut at an extreme angle, hoping to flank the big man enough to land the blow.
Not quite. Ojo parried the blow with both blades, slid his top blade back in toward Kris’s guard, and then snapped up to land a thrust across their shoulders while they were off-balance from the roll.
The bell rang twice.
Damn it, Kris thought. Their gambit had failed. They’d used a rare sigil, and Ojo had negated it without missing a beat. Kris had broken the rhythm of the fight again and again, but never converted to a touch.
Not the greatest start. Had they been too bold, too confident?
Ojo shook Kris from their worries, saying, “That Frost Cage was exquisite.” The big man offered Kris a hand up. “Freezing my hands together. If I hadn’t spent years learning to carve with a locked wrist, that’d have been it right there.”
Kris gave a weak smile, still embarrassed.
Ojo turned to the crowd. “Kris Denn is one of the finest young bladecrafters I’ve ever had the pleasure of dueling. But in addition to the Rumikan’s skill, Kris has also shown me their warmth, their openness. We must learn to cherish one another’s differences so that we may learn from one another and be stronger together.” Kris traced Ojo’s line of sight to Lavinia, arms crossed, death in her eyes.
“Quloo stands in support of Rumika’s claim.”
Kris’s world shook, as if they were on a swaying ship. They planted their feet and steadied, skin hot with embarrassment giving way to surprise and joy. They’d hoped Ojo might pledge support even if Kris lost, but had never expected it, not after failing on a risky gamble.
They started and failed several times to speak, finally managing to say, “Thank you.”
Ojo nodded. “See to that shoulder. And a word of advice. The senior warders are wise. Flashy tricks like that only work if you have an escape plan.”
It almost worked, Kris thought. But almost wasn’t good enough. They couldn’t count on any of the others giving support even if Kris lost their bouts. They had to win the other duels outright.
Kris returned Ojo’s nod then withdrew to their bench. Nik and a Rumikan physician were standing by to patch up their wounds throughout the Gauntlet.
One duel done, five remaining. And they only needed three more votes.
Chapter 2
Ojo
Ojo and Penelope took lunch in the Vanian chambers. Adechike was reviewing reports on import/export revenues from home. From what he’d said that morning, it still wasn’t enough to buy the aerstone they needed from anyone who was offering.
Vanian attendants laid out a spread of succulent braised meats and crisp greens fresh from the embassy’s gardens. The Vanian diet was heavy in meats and vegetables, hardly any breads or rice. It kept them lean and powerful.
A wave of sadness passed over Ojo as they ate. He’d taken meals like this for granted, but now he counted them like petals falling from a wilted rose. What would he be to her, once she departed for home to have their child? Friend? Former colleague?
He shook it off. Worrying now was stea
ling from the present to appease a future that might never come. He poured himself a glass of Quloi cider from his own growler.
“What did you think of the duel?” he asked.
“The Frost Cage variant was a fine bit of work, but they were too brash, too male.” Penelope sipped her tea. “And you were holding back.”
Ojo shrugged, then sipped cider. “It was their first duel. No need to run them ragged. Lavinia will see to that soon enough. It’s high time the Circle expanded to seven. How many times in the past year, five years, has the Circle been deadlocked three to three, the imperial block against the rest of us? Rumika at the table would let us bring Lavinia’s bullying to heel.”
Penelope gestured with her long fork as she stabbed the plate of lamb to serve several large pieces onto her plate. “Just wanting a tiebreaker isn’t a good enough reason to give a nation a seat at the table. And there are more than a few of my people who would take my supporting a Rumikan as grounds to have me removed.”
Ojo nodded. There were Apolytoi here on Twaa-Fei, not just in Vania. Unfortunately, every nation had its extremists. “That’s why we have the duel. Kris can prove themself. Rumika could have joined the Circle generations ago, but they chose to keep to themselves. Now, with Rumika’s population boom and their increased aerstone production . . . if they want to join the rest of the world, at a time like this, I think we should take that as a blessing.”
Penelope shook her head. “Rumika’s ascent will upset the balance we’ve found with Mertika. The Matriarchs and I have worked a long time to improve relations with the empire, and this could put that in danger.”
“But that’s just the point. With Rumika’s resources, we don’t have to be beholden to the empire anymore. Quloo, Vania, and Rumika together can challenge the empire, even without Tsukisen’s aid. Kris is already amenable to such an alliance.”
Penelope said nothing in response, her way of telling him the topic was closed.
If he couldn’t rally Penelope’s support, Kris would need to beat Taro, Kensuke, and Takeshi to win. Lavinia hadn’t lost a duel in years, and Kris was nowhere near ready to best her. Maybe one day, with training and patience.
Any deal large enough to address Quloo’s crisis would need the guarantees of a warder’s authority. Without that, it could take weeks of proposals and counterproposals instead of Kris and Ojo talking everything out over tea.
And Quloo needed the aerstone now.
Chapter 3
Kris
Their shoulder bandaged and only slightly sore thanks to the physician’s care, Kris stretched out for the second duel, with Penelope Kyrkos of Vania. This evening, they would face Warder Hii no Taro of Tsukisen. With some good luck, they could have all but one of the votes they needed before the day was done. The imperial nations had yet to inform Kris of the order they’d be facing their warders, still playing it close to the chest.
Yochno repeated the ritual proprieties, leaving Kris and Penelope to take their places.
The bell tolled, and Penelope began to close immediately.
Kris used Gale Step and Bamboo Form, finishing the second sigil just as Penelope whipped up a three-yard-tall tornado and sent it coursing across the field.
Kris cut Dead Sails to banish the tornado, relishing as they saw appreciation cross Penelope’s face. They might not need to win if they impressed the battlemistress enough.
What else do you have? Kris thought, eager to prove themselves.
Penelope was the second-tallest warder of the Circle, more muscular than Lavinia. The Vanian style called for extensive blade contact, dominating the battle through leverage and winding motions.
The Vanian birthright of endurance meant that Kris wouldn’t even try to tire out the battlemistress. But her heavier blade was also slower to cut and trace sigils.
If speed alone wouldn’t suffice, Kris would have to innovate. Fortunately, that was a Rumikan specialty.
As Penelope closed, Kris backpedaled and cut Twin Blade, an intricate sigil developed on Ikaro centuries ago. They’d learned it from a rare manuscript acquired by a Rumikan trader.
As the sigil completed, Kris’s free hand was filled with a sword made of blue light. It was an exact copy of Kris’s steel blade, duplicated by the sigil. The blade wouldn’t last long, so it was more a trick than a sustainable strategy. Kris had trained in case of rapier–style swordplay, and knew that the best way to lose when fighting with two blades was to let your opponent trap both blades at once.
Which meant Kris had to make this count. They pushed off their back leg, advancing toward Penelope as she closed. Kris moved from stance to stance, one blade high, one low. Each time Kris moved, they parried the weakest end of Penelope’s blade with one sword and jabbed with a thrust using the other. Penelope wheeled to one side, blade moving nimbly to turn Kris’s thrusts aside.
Kris continued to press, taking measure of Penelope’s timing and her use of leverage.
Then, as Penelope pushed the magic blade aside with a forceful parry, Kris dropped the sigil. The blade vanished. With nothing to oppose Penelope’s blade, her sword darted off-line, and Kris lunged. Penelope recovered incredibly well, raising her cross guard to parry.
Exactly as Kris expected. Kris disengaged under Penelope’s guard and cut through the leather gauntlets into the battlemistress’s forearms, drawing a thin line of blood. They stopped the blow short of striking her face, making a display of their control.
The bell rang twice.
Kris restrained a whoop of victory. They sheathed their blade and bowed to Penelope.
I can hardly believe that worked, Kris thought. On another day, or on any other pass, Penelope might have caught the parry and punished them for going all in on the lunge. But it had worked.
Penelope offered a hand to shake. The size of her hand left Kris feeling like they were a child again, shaking the hand of an adult.
“Excellently done, Kris.”
Penelope switched her grip and lifted Kris’s hand up to the ceiling, raising her voice to the room. “Vania values strength, and by trial of prowess, Rumika has shown its worth!”
The crowd cheered. Louder, more enthusiastic than that morning. They were on Kris’s side.
“Thank you, Warder Kyrkos. It was an honor.”
Just two more to go!
•••
But their best failed them that evening. Kris thought they’d be able to overwhelm Taro the way Lavinia had, but their aggression cost them the match when Taro voided their blow with incredible agility. That left Kris off-balance, which meant that they recovered too slowly and took a shallow cut to the side from the Tsukiseni’s curved blade.
“Your skills are admirable, but you still have much to learn,” Taro said, casting his vote in opposition after the duel.
At the close of the first day, the circle atop the challenge altar showed two flags illuminated, one dimmed.
Kris returned to their guest chambers, not taking visitors from the crowd. Instead they reclined with several ice packs and a cup of hot tea. On the table sat six polished stones with crude versions of the Circle nations’ flags painted on them. The stones for Quloo and Vania sat on one side, Tsukisen on the other. The three stones for the imperial nations sat in the middle.
“I can beat Takeshi,” Kris said to themself. “I just have to stay clear of his sigils long enough to force the battle into swordplay. With the Ikaro focus, I can’t count on overwhelming him, so I’ll have to just out-fence him. But assuming that, I’ll only have to win one more fight, against Lavinia or Kensuke. Probably Kensuke. The reports say that he’s avoided duels over the past few years, and favors his left leg.”
Kris’s eyes settled on the Mertikan flag. Lavinia’s display in the Golden Lord question stuck with them.
They’d run the two-on-one duel through their mind again and again, and couldn’t come up with a real weakness in Lavinia’s form. Ojo had disarmed her with an incredible maneuver and she snatched the blade out of the ai
r to deliver the telling blow without a heartbeat’s delay.
A chill ran down Kris’s spine, and they missed Alyx’s response. They looked up and saw resignation on Alyx’s face, fear and excitement on Nik’s. Even if they couldn’t beat Lavinia, the path to victory was clear. Hard, but clear.
All of Rumika had put their trust in Kris. If they failed, Rumika could not challenge again for a decade minus one year for each vote in support during the failed challenge, per the laws of the Circle. A decade without a proper representative. Without the respect a seat at the table could bring, without the binding power of deals made by a warder.
They could not fail Rumika. They would not cost their people the future they were building.
Chapter 4
Michiko
That night, Michiko was in her room, reviewing quotas for millet and rice production on Kakute when a summons came from Kensuke. She threw on a robe and hurried to the embassy’s meeting room. She steadied her breath and walked into the main room, her head held high. She’d learned to walk into every room like Lavinia might be waiting to pounce.
This time she wasn’t.
Warder Heike sat at his desk, penning letters. Where the desk was usually spotless, here piles of books and papers had slumped over into a mess. Beside the warder sat a large mug of tea. The twitch of his hand as he wrote told her this was not his first that evening.
“Please, take a seat.” He took a long sip as she did, then set his mug down with an ungraceful clatter. What’s wrong? Michiko wondered. She’d not seen Kensuke so uncontrolled. “Warder Junius has informed me that you are to face the young upstart in our stead, since you have already fought Kris and emerged triumphant.”
Kensuke looked tired, hollow. He walked around to Michiko, and put his hands on her shoulders, holding her in his gaze. She froze in his grasp as a meteor shower of tiny movements and emotions crossed his face. She was trapped again between expectations. What does he want here? Did he want her to demur? To disagree? Something else? Lavinia should be here to give her clear directions, though of course she could do what she wanted, as the empress’s hand on Twaa-Fei.
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