by Jani Griot
“Take my payment, brother. You are in over your head,” started Dara. The boy collected himself, prostrating on the floor, knowing either his death or tortures far worse were on the horizon. He could feel the king’s glare on his cowering form as easily as he’d felt that of the blonde ruse boy in the courtyard a handful of moments ago.
“You’ve openly allied yourself with a man sending spies throughout your home, your slaves never win the hunt, and you’re about to give up gold in another pursuit of potential power that may overthrow you entirely,” said Dara. The boy tried not to cringe at her mention of Khalif. The boy knew his circumstances were nearly hopeless, especially if the two were able to perceive his true level of intelligence.
Slaves were slaves in any land. Even in his home above the very clouds, slaves were accustomed to a more silent way of living. He tried not to shiver at his potential future, knowing he would soon have to both underwhelm and show undeniable value, all at the same time.
“After the death of our father, I am the only being that stands between the sky of the highest realm and the ocean’s many hells. If you truly understood the power of this land, you would help me restore our father’s name,” said Ochloc. The boy heard as the king began to pace once more before resuming his speech.
“Fine, Dara, one victory isn’t enough for you to part with the relic, I can see that now,” said the king almost as if he were speaking to himself.
“You say my slaves never win and I’m working with a spy. You say I’m going to lose it all because of my greed and lust for power. You claim my daughter has more of a right to the power of this land than even myself,” continued Ochloc, nodding to himself as he approached the large desk that sat within the room. The boy heard as a drawer opened and something was placed across the wooden surface. The object seemed to hum, and the boy could feel the univers wafting off the object even from where he bowed on the floor.
“Where did you get that?” asked Dara. The boy couldn’t see what they were looking at but the reverence in their voices made him curious.
“By the look on your face I can tell we are leaving this argument behind and heading toward negotiations,” said the king. The boy waited patiently for the king’s sister to respond and was shocked when she didn’t. Whatever item the king revealed had stunned her into a state of silence and wrapped her attention entirely.
“This one item is worth more than the wealth of all Honorborn combined. With that being said,” started Ochloc.
The boy felt Ochloc round the desk and step toward him. The man’s titan grip lifted him from the floor and the boy saw his surroundings in full for the first time. He kept his face stern and expressionless as his eyes scanned the lavish decor. He was able to keep his composure, until he saw what sat upon the desk.
His muscles tensed. The reaction was swift, and he forced himself to relax, hopefully before anyone noted his knowledge of things such as relics. The king moved to block his view, but it was too late. He had seen the halo of the Sandmaker’s crown. The most powerful relic known to the sands. The king stared the boy in the eyes as he spoke, filling the boy with as much fear as the relic’s destructive power did.
“Now, let’s see if Ark has a plan for you!”
Ochloc dragged the boy outside the building and back to the area from whence he’d came.
“You’re already running a touch late, are you not? You see, in Vassilious, we value punctuality. It’s a revered trait. One you seem to lack. Allow me to give you a head start.”
The boy noted the rune of air before he felt a massive gust of wind at his back. It carried with the force of a hurricane, much like he’d experienced in the Sky Kingdom. The stomach-wrenching velocity that brought him close to vomiting. And the king’s laughter followed him.
The Consciousness of a Waking Warrior
A pressure was building around my neck and left shoulder, like a great wind trying to blow me over. I ducked on pure intuition as a sandstone rock flew past me, just barely missing my head.
“There’s something off with this one. It’s like he's one of them.”
I spun to see five slaves fanned out behind me, weapons at the ready. I cocked my head to the side, hiding in the shadows of the cloak.
It was the blonde slave in the middle who had spoken. She continued: “Those yellow eyes of his don't belong to either side, if you ask me.”
A redheaded slave to her left chimed in, “He even dresses like one. Look at the white gold on his cloak!”
“That's an old blood thing, my lady Vivek says,” another added. She had tawny, brown hair and a slight pudginess. A slave well-cared for.
“No one cares what your Lady Vivek says!” The last two countered in unison. They had short, black hair and stood defensively to either side of the middle slave.
I knew at once I didn't like whatever those two were. They looked like the same person. A double person! It felt like my eyes were playing tricks on me. I blinked heavily as my gaze shifted from one to the other.
“Lord Avery told me to fear any golden-eyed man. In this life or the next,” said the blonde. I noticed her mouth moved the most in the bunch.
The black-haired girls glanced at each other, then looked back at me.
“We should end him now! Before he gives us trouble,” the red-head added.
“It would make things easier for us all,” that strange pair agreed in unison.
I learned later that this group of female slaves were called ruse boys. They were trained just as boys were, both in physical combat and in war tactics. They were also the preferred choice when it came to recon and retrieval, and they, usually, proved better at it. They looked very much like boys—short-haired and muscular. Something in their frames gave it away. Far too curvy to truly be men.
“He doesn't even have a proper sword and shield. Those are wooden training weapons,” the blonde said, stifling a laugh.
I didn't know if they were talking to me or if I could return to my master's task. I didn't want to have to use the excessive force my master had burned into my mind. The images of what I had done to the girls in the battle the day prior made me sick and unbalanced. I couldn't hold on too long without wanting to vomit. It was the fear on their faces.
These girls may have been hardened, trained warriors, but I could take them all. I didn’t want the thoughts of what I could do to them weighing on my conscience, and this was long before I had gained any sense of chivalry.
“We have the advantage of numbers,” the blonde said, rallying her friends to fight. “They’re already gossiping about him killing the rebellion leader as if it were a fluke.” She laughed a mean, condescending laugh, which was cut short by the brown-haired slave to her right.
“He pulled off a shield dazzle and an over-the-back light shatter. Those are two of the hardest sword maneuvers and he combined them! You call that a fluke?”
I turned back around, returning to the task I was given. I had a mission, and these girls did nothing but confuse me. They continued yelling at one another. Mostly about who was in charge and their plan of attack. A moment later, I felt that strange pressure again, this time it was right between my shoulder blades.
If you have ever seen an object coming your way before impact, or heard the whistle a projectile makes as it zips toward you, you may know the sensation. I didn't hear that sound, though. I felt the object move through the air toward me. I turned and caught the stone before it struck me.
“You’re not going anywhere, boy,” said the blonde. She flicked her sword left and right, silently directing the others. They spread out, covering me from multiple angles.
A hawk swooped past above us and Lord Ochloc’s voice came to me a moment later, as if he were speaking through it.
Why do you hesitate, boy?
I spun slowly where I stood. I needed to be free of this situation and quickly. If I wasn’t, my master's order would come, and he would force me to handle them without mercy. As I made my second rotation, I bolted, a
s fast as the shifting sand under my feet would allow, toward the ruse boy with brown hair.
I see! Charge the heaviest one first, she’ll be slower. Then you break the chain, link by link. Genius, boy! Serves these cheating Oceanborn wretches right.
She raised her shield, bracing herself for whatever I was going to throw her way, which was… absolutely nothing. I was about three paces away when she closed her eyes. I don't know how she expected to put up any kind of resistance doing that, but I ran past her instead.
What are you doing? You’re running away! They're just going to follow you, fool. At least you’re running in the right direction.
I heard laughter from other Honorborn, as if Ochloc's doorway into my thoughts was open for all to speak into. I did my best to block out the noise as I ran, charging as fast as I could, the five angry ruse boys at my back, volleying sandstone chunks at my rear. I managed to doge them all, not letting anything hinder my pace.
I made it to the jungle's edge much faster than I expected, scanning left and right to map the unfamiliar area. I had no clue where the master’s item could be, but a tug at the back of my mind guided me forward. I continued, carefully analyzing the perimeter for a traversable entrance. I took heed of storm clouds blowing in above me—their discharge would be far more dangerous than any wild creature or obstacle in front of me.
“Too scared to go in?” A boy only a bit smaller than myself stood at my side. He was sweat-drenched and had panted through his speech as though he’d run a thousand leagues to catch up to me. His short, silver hair seemed to grab the surrounding light. As he looked up at me, I noticed he had a small scar running the length of his cheek. He was unusually pale, as if untouched by sun. He smiled brightly, his perfect teeth a contrast to his worn leather apparel.
He attempted to scoff, I thought, but it devolved into a coughing fit. “I don't think it's even in there. They send in dozens of slaves every year. Just to have them killed when they come back with nothing. Guess it was the perfect way for my so-called master to get rid of me.” He spat the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth.
I let the boy talk. He did that a lot; I know that now. I wasn’t sure he even had a name then. Most of us didn't.
I pushed into the sandy jungle. I had never been so close to the large green-topped ocean of wood before me. It was more intimidating than most things I'd seen in my life. I was surrounded by long shadows that didn't end and flickering movement in what seemed like every direction. Noises from strange, unfamiliar things. The Sun Lion Diamond was in here somewhere. It had to be.
“Is it okay if I follow you?” asked the boy. He was surprisingly agile. I hadn't even seen him move from my right to my left.
“I don't know if those ruse boys are against the guy that killed their friend or just all males in general. The way they were looking at you at the gate was intimidating, to say the least. Your master must not like you very much. This isn't the first time I've been fed to the wolves by mine, but he's never done it as frequently as yours. Second time in two days I've seen your lord do it to you,” the boy went on.
Everything in the jungle was wet with rain. It was filled with moist greens and browns among the sandy, saturated reds and yellows. I would learn later that, in the lands where I was born, the only place it rained was directly over jungle terrain. It has something to do with the laws of univers. Much of the kingdom’s moisture was driven toward places of power to control the heat emitted by magical energy. This was one of many systems placed by the Elementalists of old.
“You don't talk very much, do you? Maybe the rumors about Vassilious are true. Do you not know how to speak?” he asked innocently.
I heard rustling a short distance behind us. I imagined a few stalking terrors in my mind. The unfamiliar, awe-inspiring landscape could offer any number of wonderful, horrible monsters. I slowly backed up a few paces before turning and heading away from the sound.
“Well, maybe you can, at least a little bit. I did hear you yell that one time. You remember, right? 'Fury' and all that.” He raised his hand above his head, his fingers spread out like claws. He mimicked me, yelling silently at nothing, grinning at his own cleverness.
He was having trouble keeping up with my longer strides and was startled when I stopped. He bumped into me, huffing and puffing to catch his breath while I stared down at him.
The boy slowed for a moment and placed his palm to his forehead, his face scrunched up as though he’d eaten something sour. "Oh, is that a sore subject for you? I’ll try to remember that.”
Something whistled toward me faster than the projectiles had earlier. Much faster. I lifted my shield arm just in time to hear a thud, feeling the vibration of the arrow that stuck there. I looked at the boy's face, not quite realizing how much danger I was in. His eyes revealed more than enough terror to tell me that it was, at least, some.
“Maybe following the guy with a target on his back wasn't the greatest idea, now that I think about it,” yelled the boy as he raced away.
Not knowing what to do, I charged deeper into the trees, after the boy. Arrow after arrow whizzed by our heads as laughter and insults echoed through the trees surrounding us.
“You'll never make it out, boys!”
“Jungles are dangerous places!”
“Hide while you can, little boys!”
They laughed in a chill-inducing tandem that made me, for a moment, feel like I was hearing it in my mind. Like my master's words. The redhead emerged from the trees in front of us, jumping down from her perched location.
She charged me, nearly catching me flat-footed. I hadn't expected her, and when dealing with darkness and a creative, young mind, things tend to get distorted. I may have imagined her to be much larger than she was, which only intensified my fear of her swinging her sword from the shadows like a mad woman.
“This is what happens when you kill Rebellion leaders, fool!” she screamed.
I widened my stance as she brought her sword down to strike at me. I turned slightly as she entered my range. I wasn't holding the wooden sword, so I leaned in hard and fast with my left shoulder aiming right for her mid-section. I had to bring my shield arm up quickly to block the flowing arc of her blade. Both actions happened nearly at once. The handle of the sword bounced off the wooden shield as I attacked her. The sword spiraled through the air. I looked up to see the small boy snatch it without hesitation, as if it had been awkwardly passed to him.
“Master wouldn't give me a blade. Says I'm far more talented than any slave should be with a weapon made for Honorborn men. Must be devil’s work, he says!” the blade zipped left and right as he got a feel for the weapon.
I’d never seen anyone talk so much while doing anything in my life. He fought both the blonde and bumbling brown-haired girl at the same time.
“Do you two have names?” he asked.
“I do,” the brown-haired girl said, gracious to answer. She wasn't the best sword fighter, but she seemed to be helping, lunging in sequence with the blonde. Ducking and shielding blows from the boy that her supposed ally couldn't block.
“Don't talk to the enemy while we are trying to kill him, woman!” said the blonde.
“He just asked my name. What, do you not have one or something? Avery does seem like one of those—“ she started.
Clang!
The blonde's sword flew from her hand and pierced the sand below.
“No, I don't have a name! And will you shut the Tartarus up and concentrate?” she screamed as she jumped back to grab her sword.
I laid wrestling with the redhead, who muttered something as I pushed her face into the sand. I couldn't really tell. It was more sand-spitting than talking.
“I don't either, actually. I want one. Something powerful. Like Hawk or Falcon. What do you think?” the boy said between glancing blows. Two more arrows flew in our direction, barely missing us.
“Falcon doesn't really suit you. Maybe something more like Arson or Malicious? That would
strike fear into hearts, if you want to be powerful,” the brown-haired girl suggested.
A puzzled look briefly crossed his face as he continued to fight the two foes. He danced between near-miss arrows and deadly swords with ease.
“I rather like both of those names,” he said. “I haven't a clue what they mean, but it seems to roll off the tongue. Thank you. What was your name again?” he queried.
The brown-haired girl smiled before she tried to talk.
“Oh it's—"
“Will someone get this damn thing off me?” screamed the redhead underneath me. I'd had enough of the struggle and lifted myself just enough to gain the leverage needed to strike.
“Oh, you better not punch me! I will—”
I punched with my shield arm, forgetting I wore it, and punched with both shield and fist at once. She seemed to fall asleep still talking.
Another female voice came from the tree line. “I’m gonna get you.”
I stood and immediately lifted the practice shield just in time, as another two arrows now stuck out from the wood. The two black-haired girls entered the small area where they had sprung their trap, bows at the ready. The shield took another four arrows and I had to dodge two more before I even had a chance to blink.
I deftly avoided arrows without knowing which direction they came from. The cloak probed at my senses and my flesh, directing my movements.
“His shield is cracking! We can kill him easily once it's gone,” I heard one of the ruse boys yell.
There were cracks forming in the wood at my arm. The training Ochloc had given me warned that I didn't want to be without the accessory. I drew the wooden sword and inched as close as I could in between their shots. They parted as I closed the distance, going to either side of me.
“We should probably get out of here, Fury. This isn't going our way,” the boy said before taking action. He flipped out of the way of the striking girls. He performed some sort of no-hand cartwheel between the identical girls, moving toward me. His sword swung out with a flash—cutting one of the girls’ bow strings—and he was by my side the next second.