Kaji Warriors: Shifting Strength

by Kelly A Nix

  “If the Gridiron is so deadly, why would anyone want to participate?” Feku asks. He glances around the class of future warriors and selects Marqee to answer.

  “Well, one reason is for the honor. Only the strongest warriors survive the Gridiron.” Marqee flashes a smug smile, and Sloan sneers at Atae. Feku ignores his students’ posturing and lifts two fingers.

  “And the second reason?”

  “The second reason is for citizenship. All survivors are awarded citizenship in the Kaji Empire. Warriors from all over the galaxy participate in the Gridiron in hopes of earning their citizenship.”

  “Good.” Feku rewards Marqee with one point, after which, Sloan gives a congratulatory arm punch to his packmate. When both purebred Kaji eyeball Atae with pleased expressions, she crosses her arms and scoffs at them.

  “But what does citizenship mean?” Feku asks.

  This time only a handful of visors light up. Even though she is still three points ahead of Marqee, Atae refuses to give up any ground. So she makes sure her visor is among the handful and smiles when Feku chooses her to answer.

  “Citizenship opens up a lot of opportunities. It allows warriors to become officers of the empire and to specialize. Citizens are also allowed to submit concerns regarding imperial policies to the royal council. In essence, they have a voice in the empire,” she says. The elder warrior nods, and Atae raises a cocky eyebrow at Marqee and Sloan. After rewarding Atae with a single point, Feku continues.

  “Why is the Gridiron so dangerous?” He scans the clearing as almost all the visors light up. Feku stops his coal-black eyes on a youngling named Seva. She can pass for a purebred Kajian with her dark skin and blood red hair, too short to fade into white. But her golden eyes reveal a stain in her bloodline. Atae follows Feku’s line of sight and notices that Seva’s visor is one of the few not lit. In fact, she doesn’t seem to be paying attention to the lesson. Seva stands at the edge of the clearing with her shoulders slouched and head hanging low. The only sign that the youngling is conscious is her standing position and open eyes. Even from a distance, Atae can see the dark circles under Seva’s unfocused gaze. Seva is the epitome of exhaustion.

  Atae watches Feku and expects him to berate Seva for showing such weakness. She anticipates a comment about how Seva would already be dead if they were in the Gridiron. Instead, he shifts his calculating gaze to Sloan. After his visor signals, the tall youngling cocks a hip and answers with a smirk.

  “Because of warriors like me.”

  The entire class bursts into snickers, and the elder warrior sighs at the arrogant youngling before settling a stern gaze on Sloan.

  “What is the number one killer in the Gridiron?”

  Knowing a serious answer is the only acceptable response at this point, Sloan thinks for a moment. “Hunger?”

  “Close. That’s the second-highest kill rate. Atae?”

  “The wildlife.” Atae echoes her first answer with a small, abashed smile.

  “And what’s so dangerous about wildlife when there are warriors like Sloan running around?” Feku asks.

  The class cascades into another fit of giggles while Atae glances at Sloan with a snide answer. “Because warriors like Sloan never learn which wildlife will kill him and which wildlife will save him.”

  “And that will be our focus today. Each Gridiron is different with unique environments and wildlife, but there are always a few common elements. You’re bound to find plenty of Blousq flowers and clamox beasts in every Gridiron. So I’m certain you’ll come across them in the tournament,” Feku says. He awards Atae a single point, and she beams. The hybrid flashes a smug smile over her shoulder at both her rivals. Sloan shrugs and squeezes Debil’s shoulders with a sly smile, while Marqee twists his lips into a pout and snubs the blue-haired youngling.

  Elder Warrior Feku signals for the class to follow him through the forest as he discusses plants and animals of importance. Jeqi and Atae fall to the back of the group to observe in silence. Not long into the lecture, Atae notices that Jeqi is focused on her personal hologram as she has been the entire class. She nudges her packmate and whispers so as not to attract Feku’s attention.

  “What are you doing?”

  Jeqi waves her away. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Feeling a sense of déjà vu, Atae shrugs and shifts her attention back to the lesson. She opts to squeeze between fellow younglings to garner a better view. Meanwhile, the group pushes between trees and brushes, passing a rock slab that almost reaches the top of Mount Tuki.

  As Atae ebbs closer to the front of the class, the group stops to watch Feku handle a clamox hiding in a cave off the rock slab. Atae slows her pace in an attempt to quiet her steps and refrain from drawing the elder warrior’s attention. A misstep lands her on a patch of gravel, and the scrape of the shifting pebbles distracts some nearby younglings, but thankfully, not Feku. Unfortunately, it’s loud enough to attract Sloan’s attention.

  Never one to pass up an opportunity to drag down his competition, Sloan glides forward and swings his right leg under Atae. Focused on remaining silent, Atae doesn’t notice Sloan’s attack until it’s too late. The noise that Sloan makes during his attack is minute compared to the orchestra of sounds and cursing that echoes from Atae. He sweeps Atae’s legs out from under her, and she lands face first in the gravel. Feku glances up from his demonstration on the best way to capture a clamox beast just in time to witness Atae clamoring to her feet.

  When her visor flashes a two-point deduction from her class ranking, Atae snarls at Sloan. He wiggles his eyebrows as his dark eyes dance over a satisfied smirk. Feeling safe from retaliation due to Feku’s proximity, Sloan’s sarcastic finger wave adds to Atae’s wounded pride, and he chuckles at her aggravation.

  Arrogant bastard.

  Taking a deep breath, Atae pushes her rage to the back of her mind and focuses on the lecture. She watches as Feku holds a beast three times her size in one hand.

  A clamox is a massive arachnid that spends half of every season incubating thousands of eggs. Its eight muscular legs are longer than Atae and meet at the enormous abdomen, which harbors its precious offspring. A thick coat of brown fur protects its fat belly and the sack of eggs snuggled close. The clamox’s hairless head features large arachnid eyes and mucus-covered fangs. Horns extend from the beast’s boney forehead to ward off enemies aiming for its unprotected neck. With enough muscle and bone to outweigh a small Kaji, a clamox can be a worthy foe to the untrained. Feku holds the creature by the base of its skull at such an angle that the horns run parallel to the elder warrior’s arm.

  Atae listens to Feku explain the best way to track the creature. She learns that a clamox hide can be used for warmth or shelter, and its meat can feed a Kaji youngling for a few days. The bite of a clamox is venomous with an extremely painful but short-lived toxin. Atae makes a mental note not to let one bite her before a few of her whispering classmates distract her from the lecture.

  “My parents saw the ship land in the outer parameter of the city. I overheard them reporting to the city guards,” Marqee says, his black eyes flashing with excitement. Debil huffs in annoyance, trying to hide the fatigue behind her dark eyes.

  “It’s probably just a royal ship transporting the royal family,” she says.

  “But it wasn’t a Kajian spaceship. Why would they travel in an alien ship?” Marqee says.

  “It could be an alien race looking to abduct unsuspecting citizens for inappropriate probing…” Sloan says. He offers Debil another playful grin, and she tries to hide her blush with a smile. Next to her, Seva lifts her sagging head and speaks with feverish speed.

  “It’s probably the Camille planning a sneak attack. I wouldn’t put it past that filthy scum. My father told me countless stories of their treachery and dishonor in battle.” Seva’s energy fades again as Debil slips an arm over her packmate’s shoulders.

  “There hasn’t been a firefight with the Camille Empire since before we were born. Why wo
uld they start now?” Debil says.

  When no one offers a reasonable explanation, Atae decides to make an important point. “If a Camille ship intent on inciting another intergalactic war landed on the Kaji Empire’s base of operations, don’t you think every Kajian in the city would know by now?”

  Marqee glares at Atae for her intrusion, but Sloan twists his mouth and raises an indifferent eyebrow. Debil, on the other hand, considers Atae’s claim.

  “Hmm, that’s true. It would be the biggest news since the peace treaty was announced.” A small, sly smile slips across Debil’s face. “What if it’s a fugitive from another planet looking for a place to hide?”

  “Who would seek shelter on the capital planet of the most feared warriors in the galaxy?” Marqee asks.

  “Maybe they crash-landed,” Debil says.

  “Has anyone thought to ask Jent? His father oversees Capital City’s flight plans. Maybe he overheard something?” Atae says. All the younglings listening search the group for the Kip hybrid.

  “I don’t think he’s here,” Marqee says.

  “I haven’t seen him since yesterday,” Debil admits.

  Before the younglings can discuss the matter further, Feku signals for the class to continue forward. The group obeys, and the elder warrior describes harmless plants on their path through the forest. One such plant is the Jassell tree, and Atae smiles as they pass one, feeling a kind of kinship with the unique tree. She pauses to place her hand on the trunk as the rest of the class continues on their path. Her gray skin almost blends into the dark gray, knotted tree bark. The hybrid notices something small and light brush against her, and she pulls a leaf from her thick mane. Spinning the fallen foliage between her fingers, Atae smiles at the familiar color. As a bud, the leaf shines with a bright blue hue, and with age, it darkens to a shade almost identical to Atae’s hair until it falls lifeless from the tree. Atae drops the dark blue leaf as Jeqi steps up beside her.

  Atae glances at her packmate and signals for them to catch up. She follows Jeqi’s much stealthier lead and squeezes between classmates until they reach the front of the class. Jeqi stops at the edge of the crowd encircling Feku, and Atae peers over her packmate’s shoulder. In the center of the circle, a warrior eater hangs above Elder Warrior Feku.

  The warrior eater is a flower the size of a small Kaji that hangs at the top of the forest canopy. Its large petals reach between trees and disappear into the canopy, and the center of the flower hosts massive, dangerous thorns. Between them are sprouts of vines that hang to the forest floor.

  “The warrior eater, as most Kaji call it, is a carnivorous plant,” Feku says. “It impales unsuspecting prey with its large thorns at its stalk and absorbs the nutrients. The corpses of its prey are left behind for scavengers and fungi.” The elder warrior points to the enormous plant above then to a few bones lying on the forest floor. A visor to Atae’s left lights up and, after Feku signals, Sloan speaks.

  “How does it impale its prey if the thorns are way up there? Sparkling dust and happy thoughts of murder?”

  Gawking at his packmate, Marqee whispers, “Sparkling dust and happy thoughts? Where do you come up with this crap?”

  “It’s a gift.”

  Atae can’t help the small chuckle that escapes, and Sloan glances at her with a side smirk before refocusing on the elder warrior.

  “Like this,” Feku says. He unsheathes his blade and walks directly under the warrior eater. The moment he touches the vines, they wrap around him and drag him toward the thorns above, constricting his arms and legs. Fortunately, no amount of wrapping can keep him from twisting his wrist around and slicing through the vine around his arms. Another swipe of his blade frees his legs, and he falls to the ground moments before the large petals close, ready to absorb the nutrients of its latest prey.

  The entire class is in awe of the elder warrior and clamors around him to ask questions. After taking a few moments to explain that avoiding the vines is the best way to elude the warrior eater, Feku signals for them to move on to their next subject. The rest of the day is spent learning about creatures that may or may not be in the Gridiron and the best way to handle them. As Solis and Cerule dip below the horizon and Sul is sure to peak out soon, Feku announces the end of class. The entire group of younglings mosey down toward the base of Mount Tuki and escape to their respective homes. Along the way, Jeqi’s silver tail thrashes behind her, and she decides to grill Atae.

  “Tell me. How did you do it?”

  Atae grins at her packmate, glad to see Jeqi in a better mood.

  “Well, do you remember Feku’s lesson last week about natural talents?”

  “You mean about how some warriors are naturally stronger or faster than others?”

  “Right. Well, I noticed that night during our evening training session that Father has natural strength,” Atae says. Jeqi peers at her friend with a dubious frown.

  “Of course, he has natural strength. Do you think he became the queen’s royal advisor because of his personality?”

  Atae punches her friend in the shoulder with a scowl.

  “Ow.” Jeqi rubs her shoulder, and the fur on her tail stands on end. “I mean come on, Atae. You’ve trained with him every morning and evening since you were two. That’s fifteen seasons of personalized training, and twelve of those included lessons at Sula. How did you not know he was an above-average warrior?”

  “Shut up.” Atae’s cheeks burn red with embarrassment, and Jeqi giggles.

  “I guess you got suspicious when you were the top fighter in your class?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I could never get close to Father before. Feku really opened my eyes to different strategies and techniques,” Atae says. Her voice radiates with admiration for her lessons instructor, and Jeqi nods in understanding.

  “That’s when he told you about your natural speed, right?”

  “And agility,” Atae says. “He said that my technique was based on raw force and power that I just didn’t have.”

  “That makes sense since you learned most of your fighting skills from Solum. He’s all about raw force.”

  “Right, so Feku suggested that I concentrate more on using speed attacks and outmaneuvering my target, rather than overpowering it.”

  “Well, it sounds like he was right. How did you do it?" Jeqi asks. Atae dives into the incredible tale of her triumph. She makes sure to exaggerate where appropriate and acts out significant scenes as any youngling her age would do. They both giggle in the end when they reach the bottom of the mountain.

  Jeqi halts and scans the area around them until she finds a small figure in the distance. She frowns, then dips her head to focus on something flashing across her personal hologram. After a moment, she sighs in annoyance.

  “Mother is waiting for me.”

  “Why? She never picks you up from lessons,” Atae says.

  “I don’t know, but she says that you are to meet with Solum for your evening lessons immediately. She forbids you from stopping or socializing along the way,” Jeqi says, reading from the message her mother sent via the visual visor.

  Both younglings shrug and say their goodbyes before Atae treks back up Mount Tuki. Heeding Deh’s warning, Atae dashes up the side of the mountain, dodging between trees and jumping from boulder to boulder. Upon her arrival at their designated training spot, she expects to find Advisor Solum waiting for her but receives a digital message on her visor instead. She takes a moment to catch her breath, irritated when it takes longer than usual, and curses at her weakness. Atae activates the message with a simple command, and a note from Solum flashes across her holographic screen:

  ‘Warm up. I’ll be there soon.’

  Atae smirks at the very Solum note, simple and to the point. Knowing that she better be ready to work by the time Solum arrives, Atae switches off her visor and dives into her warm-up.

  Chapter 7

  The next day, Solum stomps through the palace halls with a deep frown. His shadow stretches
across a jeweled depiction of a sly assassin slipping past enemy lines. The bloody murder is engraved into the white stoned walls, but Solum ignores the gruesome scene. He squeezes his fists and bites back a growl of frustration. The few servants in his path scamper away at the sight of his angry posture.

  It’s impossible. Solum halts in front of the throne room doors and pauses to calm his temper and clear his mind. He stares at the winged battle beast engraved into the massive doors. The large crest has always helped to calm his mind and focus on the task at hand. How many times has Queen Sula interrupted his duties for an impromptu conversation?

  Too many to count. The corners of Solum’s mouth quirk up as his frustration ebbs. Usually, Sula’s interruptions are welcomed and appreciated. His work can be tedious and repetitive at times, and Sula can be an entertaining host. But today is not a day for fun and games. Today has been a challenge, and Solum is struggling to control the urge to destroy something. With a sigh, he waves at the guards on duty to open the throne room doors.

  Solum finds Queen Sula perched on her throne, holding several metal blades. She twirls one dagger between her fingers and eyes Solum with a mischievous smile. As he strolls toward the wild-haired queen with a respectful posture, she flings a knife at him. Solum doesn’t flinch when the blade whistles past him and thumps into a wooden target perched next to the entrance. Sula frowns at her packmate’s lack of reaction before releasing another blade. This time the dagger strikes the marble floor a finger’s width from Solum’s left foot. Again, he doesn’t flinch or halt in his advancement toward the throne.

  “There was a time when you would have picked up that blade and thrown it back at my face. You just aren’t any fun anymore,” Sula says. Solum stops a courteous distance from the throne and purses his lips at her.