Trial of Stone

by Andy Peloquin

  “I love you, Papa.” Briana’s words, spoken aloud, held a depth of emotion that brought a lump to Kodyn’s throat. He’d never had a father just as Briana had never had a mother. They’d both had to make do with one parent—one parent that cared for them with every shred of love they could muster. He’d been truly fortunate to have Ria there as well.

  A strong hand rested on Kodyn’s shoulder. He turned to find Arch-Guardian Suroth standing behind him.

  “Take this to the Black Widow.” The Secret Keeper held out a small pouch. “She will understand the meaning of the message.”

  Kodyn cocked an eyebrow, curiosity burning as he took the pouch. The object within felt round, smooth, and hard, small enough to nestle in the palm of his hand.

  “To face the Necroseti, we need help.” Suroth gave him an enigmatic smile. “The Black Widow makes a powerful ally–for the right price.” His expression grew stern. “But deliver it only to her and no one else. In the wrong hands, this can be used for truly terrible things.”

  Kodyn nodded understanding. “I will get it to her as soon as Aisha returns.” The ominous look in Suroth’s eyes inflamed Kodyn’s innate curiosity. He ached to find out what could be so important to the Secret Keeper, yet respect for the man stopped him from opening the pouch.

  “Good,” Suroth’s fingers said. “Time is of the essence.” He gripped Kodyn’s forearm. “She is my sun, moon, and stars. I could not bear to lose her again. Keep her safe, Kodyn.”

  “With my life.” Kodyn met his gaze.

  With a nod, Arch-Guardian Suroth released his grip on Kodyn’s arm, turned, and hurried away across the walkway that led through the rooftop garden.

  Kodyn glanced at Briana. Worry sparkled in the Shalandran girl’s eyes.

  “He’ll be fine,” he told her. “I may have only known him for a day, but I’ve met few people as capable as him.” Errik, Ria, his mother, and the Hunter numbered among the few he’d wager on against the Secret Keeper.

  “I know,” Briana said, “but that doesn’t stop me from fearing for him. Especially now that we know Councilor Madani and the rest of the Necroseti are against us.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” Kodyn placed a hand on her shoulder. “The four of us.”

  Briana squeezed her eyes closed and leaned on his hand, a smile on her face. “I feel much safer, just having you here. Both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Aisha.”

  “You won’t have to find out, I promise.” Kodyn crouched in front of her and scooped up her hands in his. He spoke in an earnest voice. “We’re not going anywhere until we’re sure you’re safe.”

  Briana smiled, and suddenly Kodyn was aware of how close she was. Her hands were warm in his, her skin soft and fragrant with the smell of tiger lilies. The lines of kohl accented the dark color and almond shape of her eyes, and she’d painted her lips with a deep purple color that seemed to glisten in the sunlight. The fabric of her simple dress shimmered, the thin straps over her shoulder revealing an abundance of the golden mahogany skin of her slim shoulders, neck, and upper chest.

  Heat raced through him as his eyes locked with Briana. He saw that same glimmer of fire in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks. Her hands in his had grown suddenly hot. Her lips parted, her breathing speeding up to match his. For a moment, he almost thought she was leaning forward, closing the distance to—

  A sound from behind him shattered the moment. He stood and turned in time to see Aisha striding through the garden toward them. A momentary surge of disappointment, even anger, flashed through him. Yet one look at Aisha’s face wiped it all away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. A shadow hung in Aisha’s eyes, her shoulders tense, as if beneath a great weight. “Was there a problem with the Secret Keeper?”

  Aisha shook her head and, without a word, produced the scroll tube. Kodyn took the leather tube but his eyes never left hers. She was still the same young woman he’d known for years, but there was something else, something new that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something within her had changed.

  “I’m fine,” Aisha said. “Just tired. Didn’t sleep much.”

  A lie, but Kodyn let it pass. She’d been carrying a burden since the day they’d left Praamis, one she hadn’t chosen to share with him. Either she would do so in her own time, or he’d press her a bit when they had a moment of peace. Right now, if she wanted him to treat her as if nothing was wrong, he’d go along with it.

  He pried the lid from the scroll tube and pulled out the scroll—made from a pithy plant Briana had called papyrus. Eager anticipation coursed through him as he unrolled the thick paper.

  Excitement turned to confusion, and his brow furrowed as he stared down at the scroll.

  “What is it?” Aisha asked.

  Kodyn turned it over and held it up. “There’s nothing!”

  The map was blank.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Issa swallowed the acid surging into her throat. She, Etai, and eight Indomitable trainees faced sixty enemies bolstered by Kellas and the heavily-armored, stone-faced Invictus Tannard.

  There’s no damned way we can pull this off. Not against six times their number. Again, they wore padded jerkins and wielded wooden batons against sword-wielding Indomitables in solid half-plate mail.

  Yet her grandmother’s words from the previous night echoed in her mind. “That is how you have always been, Granddaughter. Stubborn as a farmer’s mule, yet as unstoppable as a runaway bull. Nothing can stop you, nechda. The only one who can stop you is you. You only fail when you stop fighting.”

  She gritted her teeth. I will never stop fighting. Anger burned in her gut as she fixed her eyes on Tannard at the rear of the line. I refuse to let you force me out of the Blades, you bastard!

  Tannard’s stony expression never changed. He simply stood ready, huge two-handed sword carried on his shoulder. An immovable obstacle she’d somehow have to surmount in order to succeed.

  So be it. Resolve hardened like shalanite in her stomach. Somehow, I’m getting past you.

  She turned to her small company—bloodied and beaten, but defiance shining in their eyes. Last time, she had nearly carried them to victory against impossible odds. Even Etai, the slim Mahjuri girl she’d helped in the Crucible, looked at her with mingled hope and trust. They wanted her to triumph. No, more than that. They expected her to.

  The realization bolstered her courage and determination. She was their commanding officer, and they counted on her to keep them alive in this mock battle. Issa wouldn’t let them down.

  “I’m dreading the words about to come out of your mouth.” Nysin’s tone dripped sarcasm. Clearly, he refused to let a few bruised ribs and a split lip dull his cutting edge. “Hopefully it’ll be a better plan than last time.”

  Issa smiled. “The same plan, actually.” Her grin widened as Nysin’s jaw dropped. “Almost.”

  “You got us all killed last time.” Nysin shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon skip the pummeling on my second day in a row.”

  “You should be used to that by now.” Viddan, another Mahjuri trainee, snorted. “You’ve taken a beating in just about every training session with Rilith.”

  Issa shot a glance at the tall, slender Earaqi girl. “You’re good with your blades?”

  Rilith shrugged.

  “Yes,” Enyera put in. “I may be lightest on my feet, but none of us can match the speed of her hands.”

  “Good.” Issa nodded. “Then you’re with Etai and me at the tip of the spear.” She glanced at Viddan and Nysin. “The two of you behind them, and the rest of you filling out the formation. And you,” she told Enyera, “I want you at the back again, ready to run.”

  Nysin rolled his eyes. “Because that worked so well last time!”

  “Put yourself in their place,” Issa said with a sly grin. “Would you expect us to try the same maneuver twice?”

  Nysin shook his head. “Given its spectacular failure
last time, only an idiot would do that!”

  “Which is exactly why we’re going to do it.” Issa laughed at Nysin’s incredulous expression. “They’ll realize we’re trying to outthink them by doing the last thing they expected us to do, so they’ll have to adjust their battle lines. As soon as they see Enyera taking her place at the rear of our group like she did last time, they’ll expect her to run around them again.”

  “So they’ll have to expand their lines in preparation.” Etai’s eyes went wide as realization dawned. “And when their lines are spread out, we’ll have an easier time driving through them.”

  “Never mind that the lines are now fifteen men strong instead of twelve,” Nysin interjected.

  “They could be a hundred strong.” Issa nodded her chin toward their enemy’s ranks. “They’re still only two deep, and they’ve still got the same distance between the four lines.” Had she been the one in command on the opposite side, she’d have used the additional twelve to form a fifth line—making it truly impossible for her to break through.

  Confusion clouded Enyera’s face. “But am I going to run for the pennant?”

  Issa shot her a smile. “That’s what we want them to think. But I’ve got something else in mind. Something that none of them will expect.”

  She relayed her plan—utterly desperate, and impossible in full armor, but their only hope of winning this challenge—and Enyera’s eyes widened.

  “Damn!” The Earaqi girl shook her head. “You’re either insane or the cleverest person here.”

  “We’ll find out which soon enough,” Issa said with a grin.

  Her eyes traveled over the bruised, battered faces of her company. “We face an impossible challenge. No one could hope to succeed here, and everyone in that battle line across from us knows it.” A brazen grin split her face. “Let’s prove them wrong!”

  Nine pairs of eyes filled with grim determination, defiant. The Indomitable trainees gripped their wooden batons tighter, adjusted their padded jerkins one last time.

  “We do this,” Etai told Issa in a low voice, “you’ll only make things worse with Tannard. You’ll be defeating him personally.”

  Issa met the Mahjuri girl’s eyes. “I know.” The words came out in a low growl. “But it’s bloody well worth it!”

  Etai grinned. “May the Long Keeper strengthen your arm—”

  “—and guide your aim,” Issa finished. She saluted, right fist to left shoulder, and Etai returned it.

  Issa strode toward their battle line and took her place at the tip of the spear. She tightened her grip on her twin batons and drew in a deep breath.

  This is for you, Savta.

  She charged.

  Batons held low, jaw set, eyes fixed on her first opponent, Issa pounded toward the enemy’s lines. Behind her, nine pairs of boots thumped in the sand. The Indomitable trainees facing her crouched behind their wooden shields, braced for impact.

  Issa slammed into the front rank with bone-jarring force. Instead of striking out with her truncheons, she lowered her shoulder and drove straight into the trainees before her. The force of her charge backed by the power of her muscles bulled through the first rank, then the second, and she burst free of the battle line with a cry of rage.

  Her momentum carried her forward, and she poured fury and determination into her muscles. She hit the second line seconds after plowing through the first. She, the tip of the spear formation, punched into the enemy like a dagger through parchment. Her batons crunched into outstretched arms and exposed heads.

  This time, she aimed for her enemy’s hands and arms. She couldn’t face Kellas or Tannard with wooden clubs. She needed a sword, even a shorter Indomitable blade. As one trainee struck at her, she dropped the club and reached out her right hand to close fingers around his wrist. She squeezed, her forge-hardened grip painfully tight. The trainee’s grip on his blade loosened long enough for Issa to tear it from his grasp.

  Her momentum had slowed in that instant, but Etai and Rilith on her flanks drove through the second line. With a gasp, she raced on toward the third line.

  Kellas held the center of the line, eyes fixed on her, two-handed flammard held at the ready. She could see desire written in every contour of his arrogant Dhukari face: he wanted to be the one to take her down this time.

  Let’s see what you’ve got, you pompous prick!

  “Now!” she shouted.

  Kellas’ face hardened, a smile curling his lip upward into a half-sneer, and he echoed her words. “Now!”

  Even as Issa and her company raced toward Kellas’ line, the fifteen-man company suddenly split into three. Kellas and four trainees held the center, but the ten trainees on the right and left flanks spread outward in expectation of Enyera’s desperate race toward the flag.

  Got you!

  She’d known that Kellas would think himself clever for anticipating her maneuver. He’d have come to the same realization she had: only a fool would try the same maneuver twice, so she’d try to outthink him by doing that. He’d simply outthought himself—and, in doing so, given her a fighting chance at succeeding.

  Kellas’ triumph turned to horror as the ten-man company raced toward him. Enyera made no move to sprint either right or left. Issa saw the moment he realized that he’d split his forces in an attempt to trap her, and now left his position vulnerable.

  To his credit, he managed to block her right-handed sword strike. His flammard was far heavier than the Indomitable blade she’d scooped up, so he’d have a chance of defeating her in a duel. But this was no duel. This was battle, quick, brutal, and efficient. Her shorter sword and the truncheon in her left hand gave her all the advantage she needed.

  Even as Kellas batted aside her right-handed strike, Issa brought her club up and slammed it into the side of his head. Kellas staggered, swinging wildly, but Issa deflected the blow with her sword. She barreled into him with enough force to send him staggering. He crashed to the sands, taking two more trainees down in tangled heap of limbs.

  Issa almost paused—she wanted nothing more than to whale on Kellas, unleash her frustrations on the arrogant Dhukari. Yet if she did, their line would slow and the attack would fail. They had gotten through and their only hope of victory would be to capitalize on their momentum, even if that meant leaving Kellas unpunished.

  Issa’s heart leapt as she drove on. The third line gave way before the force of their charge, and now they had only one line left.

  Tannard’s line.

  Hope turned sour in Issa’s mouth as Tannard brought his sword up to a ready position. She’d never seen that stance; his blow could come from high or low, right or left. He wielded his own blade, honed to a razor sharp edge, backed by the power and skill of an Invictus.

  And he prepared to meet her head on, his face as hard as stone, a cruel glint in the gaze he fixed on her.

  Please let this work! A single thought, edged with desperation, was all she had time for.

  With a wordless cry, she brought her stolen Indomitable blade whipping around. In the same instant, Tannard stepped forward into a thrust—the one attack Issa hadn’t expected. Her blood turned to ice as she realized the tip of his five-foot blade would punch through her padded armor, skin, organs, and spine. She had no time to block or dodge; she could only twist her body and hope she survived.

  Pain skewered through her abdomen as the length of Tannard’s blade laid open her torso. She half-expected to fall, blood splashing out of her severed intestines onto the sand. Yet even as she staggered backward, hand clapped to her bleeding belly, a dim part of her realized that Tannard hadn’t aimed to kill. He’d turned the tip of his sword aside at the last moment to wound her, deep enough to drive home his disdain but not enough to kill.

  But that searing pain was worth it.

  Enyera soared over her head, propelled by the strong arms of the two trainees she’d used to anchor the rear of their formation. The light Mahjuri girl, clad only in light trousers and a padded jerkin, se
emed to hang suspended in the air for a long second.

  Issa’s heart stopped as she watched Enyera stretch out her arm, the girl’s slim fingers closing around the pennant.

  The clarion call of the trumpet was the sweetest sound Issa had ever heard.

  The clash of weapons and the cries of the trainees seemed to go suddenly silent. Issa heard nothing but that high, ringing note and the blood pounding in her ears. The world faded around her until only she and Tannard remained.

  The Invictus’ face revealed nothing—no disappointment, anger, pride, or his usual contempt. He simply nodded and said, “The battle is yours.”

  Issa wanted to weep, shout, laugh, but she forced herself to stand still and meet Tannard’s gaze. “Thank you.”

  That was it. Every curse she’d wanted to hurl, every bit of rage she’d wanted to unload on him, all faded away in that moment of triumph. He’d tried to break her and failed. That realization was all she needed.

  “Get yourself cleaned up,” he said, his voice brusque as ever. “For your reward, you have the honor of standing guard in the Palace of Golden Eternity tonight.”

  Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away.

  Silence reigned for a long moment, shattered by the cries and cheers rising from nine throats. Enyera rose to her feet, pennant clutched in her hand, and held it aloft.

  Issa’s company pressed in around her, hands clapping her back, their pain wiped away by exultation.

  In that moment, Issa felt as if she would shatter. Not from exhaustion, anguish, or defeat, but from the joy swelling like a thundercloud within her. She threw back her head and laughed, and her company laughed with her.

  Against all odds, despite facing an impossible task, they had won. More than that. In her personal battle against Tannard, she had finally triumphed.

  And victory tasted sweet.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Evren’s brow furrowed. What the bloody hell is Snarth doing here? More importantly, who are these men?