by Evan Winter
“Be still, Jayyed,” the champion told him. “This is done for peace.”
“And you thought I wasn’t a friend,” Councillor Odili said, “when I did so much to help you achieve your dream.”
Jayyed lurched to his feet, hand going for his sword. Dejen Olujimi, Odili’s Body, had his sword out and pressed into Jayyed’s neck before Jayyed could pull free more than a fingerspan of bronze.
“Odili!” cautioned the champion.
Councillor Abasi Odili was focused on Jayyed. “Something you need, Common Jayyed Ayim?”
Jayyed let his hand fall from his sword hilt.
“Put it away, Dejen,” the queen’s champion ordered and, fast as thought, Dejen’s blade disappeared into his scabbard.
“Remember, you wanted this,” Odili told Jayyed as he walked away. Dejen followed.
Jayyed turned in the direction the Xiddeen had gone. He began to walk up the rise, across the clearing.
“No,” said Abshir. “If they see you they’ll cut her throat and you’ll have made peace impossible. Jamilah chose this duty.”
Jayyed shook his head, unable to accept it.
“It was offered and she chose it,” Abshir said. “She was not forced. She was not ordered. She risks herself for peace.”
“No… Not like this.”
The champion laid a hand on Jayyed’s shoulder. “She does this for all of us,” he said, guiding his anguished brother-in-arms away from the clearing and back to the Crags.
Tau waited for everyone to leave, trying to process all he’d witnessed and finding himself unable to reconcile the idea of peace as possible. The Omehi and Xiddeen were enemies and had been so for generations. The bloodshed, on both sides, was—
One stone clicked against another as someone behind him moved closer. Tau swayed to his left, desperate to avoid any incoming spear thrusts, and, swords ready, he swung round to face the Xiddeen scout.
BLESSED
Neither Tau nor the Xiddeen scout moved. She was taller than him, slimmer, would have been pretty if not for the weeping sore that ate away at the skin on the right side of her neck. Her eyes were wide and her spear was point down, its shaft held in loose fingers. She had not expected him.
Tau could kill her, but not before she could call out. Hearing her shout, the Xiddeen and Chosen would return to the clearing. What would it mean for peace if he killed this woman? Whatever happened, the Nobles would hang him.
Tau wished he was as smart as Hadith, who could have figured all sides to this puzzle, solved it, and acted already. He thought to speak to the woman but had no clue if she’d understand him.
He was troubling through this when she took a tentative step back, and waited. Understanding her motive, Tau took a step back as well. She took another step. He did too. They had moved beyond striking distance of each other. She nodded to him. He returned the gesture. She left.
Tau remained where he was, swords out and ready, ears pricked for any sounds of alarm. There were none. In time, he relaxed, put his blades away, and began the journey back to the isikolo, wondering at the strangeness of the night, which had ended without him needing to kill or be killed by his enemy. It troubled him, considering that, had he been discovered by his own people, his life would have been forfeit.
Tau arrived at the Southern Isikolo with the sun. The long march had done nothing to calm his mind. The Omehi were finalizing peace with the Xiddeen, peace that came with a regent who would marry and share power with Queen Tsiora.
Peace, Tau thought. It sounded more like surrender, and he could not understand how the Nobles, royal family, or queen could accept this.
Jayyed must have been right. The Xiddeen could not be overcome, and continued war would result in the annihilation of the Chosen. Tau turned the thought over in his head but kept coming back to the notion that assimilation was a different path to the same destination. In two generations, maybe three, would the sons and daughters of those who had been the Omehi pray to the many deities the Xiddeen worshipped? Would their gifts, unique among Uhmlaba’s races, be wiped out through improper mixing?
And what would happen to the Omehi military? When you counted the Ihagu, Ihashe, and Indlovu, one in six Chosen men were soldiers. Chosen society was built around the military, around defense, survival. With peace, what would his people become?
What would the Nobles become? As far as Tau knew, the hedeni did not have castes. Under peace, would Royal Nobles be subject to the same rules, opportunities, and failures as a Low Common?
Peace, Tau thought, would destroy the Omehi.
“That you, Tau?” called Chuks, the sharp-eyed Proven sentry at the top of the isikolo’s walls.
“It’s me.”
“What are you doing outside?”
“I was exercising. Can you open the gates?”
“Exercise?” Chuks tossed the word around in his mouth like it was unfamiliar food.
“Chuks,” Tau said, thinking gate guards the entire world over must be trained to be as annoying as possible, “can you open the gates?”
Chuks grumbled, scanned the dry grasslands, and, seeing no one else about, shouted to the men below. The bronze gates creaked and swung open wide enough for Tau to enter. Tau nodded to the gate men, walked past Drudge, the other initiates, Proven, aqondise, and umqondisi. He walked to the practice yards, where his scale was already practicing for the melee. He saw Hadith eye him. Tau ignored him.
“Where were you?” Hadith asked when Tau drew within speaking distance.
“My head was clouded. I took a walk.”
“What did you do? Do I need to be concerned?”
Uduak was near. He said nothing but was listening. Tau shook his head, giving Hadith little to use.
“Does that mean I have nothing to worry about because nothing was done? Or, there’s nothing to worry about because, naively, you believe you will not be caught?”
“I was not able to do as I wished last night.”
“I see,” Hadith said, watching him.
Tau, still unsteady over the night’s events and seeing Themba sauntering over, changed the subject. “Jayyed is not here. What is the plan for our training?”
“Anan wants us working as a scale,” Hadith said, seeing Themba as well. “He’s recruited help from Chisomo, Tabansi, and Hodari. Their scales will spar versus ours and the masters have agreed to allow us to use the umqondisi quarter as a mock urban battleground.”
“Letting us use their quarter as a battleground?” said Themba, smiling. “They really want to give us every chance to do well.”
“We’re the only Lessers in the melee,” said Uduak.
“Shame Scale Chisomo lost out,” Themba said, before grinning. “Eh, wonder what the Nobles will do if one of us claims a spot as one of the top six.”
“Guardian sword,” said Uduak.
“You would focus on the sword,” Themba said
“Top six kills and you’re an Ingonyama,” said Uduak.
“Ingonyama have to be Greater Nobles,” Tau said, doing his best to sound normal, to be normal.
“No,” said Hadith. “There’s no rule saying that. Eight cycles ago, a Petty Noble defeated fourteen men in the melee. That made him top six and he became an Ingonyama. He couldn’t be enraged but was accepted.
“Ingonyama are selected by the citadel umqondisi or by ranking top six in the melee. The umqondisi only select Greater Nobles, but they have no control over who gets into the melee and who secures the most kills there.” Hadith looked at Tau, with meaning.
“I have no interest in a fancy sword or ceremonial duty,” Tau said.
“Best fighters,” said Uduak.
“Uduak’s right,” Hadith told Tau. “Ingonyama are to the average Indlovu as the Indlovu are to the average Ihashe, and they’re led by the queen’s champion.”
“Abshir,” said Tau.
“You and Champion Okar close friends?” asked Themba. Tau ignored him, but that never stopped Themba. “Might try for th
e most kills myself. Wouldn’t mind being an Ingonyama. Could mean I become the next champion. Queen Tsiora needs a new one. Can’t very well bed old Abshir, can she?”
Themba’s grin grew wide enough to show crooked teeth. “Or could be you,” he said pointing to Uduak. “Champion Uduak,” Themba made his voice a sultry falsetto, “would you help your liege undress? The lacing over my bosom is so difficult to reach.”
Uduak’s eyebrows flew up.
“Tau, dear, I have an itch, right down here…,” Themba whispered, pointing a finger to his nethers.
“Are you sun sick?” asked Tau. “Our queen, Queen Tsiora Omehi, with a Lesser? The nobility would tear the peninsula apart.” They’d see her with a hedeni princeling first, he thought.
Themba snorted. “Think what you will, I’m going to do my best to get those kills in the melee. Imagine it, Themba Chikelu, queen’s champion. Themba Chikelu, queen’s lover.”
Uduak waved Themba off, shook his head, and walked away, too scandalized to hear or be any part of Themba’s fantasy.
“Don’t run, Uduak. You know you’ll be wondering how soft her skin must be for the rest of the day… and night!”
“I think not,” Hadith said. “We’re not all like you. Leave him be.”
“Men like him need a little teasing. He’s too serious. Besides, it’s only him and Tau who have any chance of doing what needs done to make the top six.”
“I don’t want it,” Tau said.
Themba grinned. “Just murder and mayhem.”
“Care,” Tau said.
“Or you’ll do me first, neh?”
“Enough, Themba.” Hadith turned away from him and raised his voice, shouting for the scale to hear. “Aqondise Anan will be here any breath now. Form up. I don’t know which scale will come with him this morning, expecting to fight and lose against us, but I know I don’t want to disappoint them.”
Some of the men laughed and all of them snapped to attention, forming up. Tau went with them.
The first scale they fought was Hodari’s. It was a slaughter. They ate after the skirmish and fought Tabansi’s men in the umqondisi quarter. Tau took out fifteen men and had to hold back to avoid injuring anyone.
“You’re Goddess blessed,” Umqondisi Tabansi told him when the fighting was finished. “I do not think I have ever seen a man so skilled with the blade. It is a gift of a new kind.”
Themba had been close enough to hear Tabansi’s praise. He’d winked at Tau. Tau ignored Themba and did not think himself Gifted. He wasn’t sure Tabansi would either, if he knew what Tau had done, and continued to do, to acquire and increase his skills.
After their third and final skirmish, another slaughter, the men ate and took to their rest. Tau went to the practice yards. He worked until it was dark, pushing himself as hard as he could, training until most in the isikolo were asleep.
He looked up at the cloudless sky. There were many stars, countless and shining bright across the breadth of the Goddess’s creation. It was at nighttime, alone, when he missed his father most, missed him so much it felt like all of Uhmlaba should stop and take note. Instead, the world moved faster, promising change, and the time for Tau to use its old rules to make things right was running short.
He knelt and closed his eyes. He went to Isihogo, to its demons, where spans meant less and suffering could be an ablution of sorts. It was time to fight in the Queen’s Melee. Peace could follow, but three men had to die first. It was time to kill.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MELEE
The first skirmish of the Queen’s Melee was chaotic. Scale Jayyed was matched against the Nobles of Scale Ozioma. They fought on the mountain battleground and, though the other competing scales were sequestered so they could not observe their opponents’ strategies, Tau had never seen the Crags so crowded.
The queen’s brother, Prince Xolani Omehia, opened the melee, both citadels were in attendance, and the Northern and Southern Isikolo stood empty, their initiates crammed into the area of the Crags reserved for Lessers. Full-blooded Indlovu and Ihashe as well as many private citizens had come to watch, and an endless horde of Drudge waited on them all. When it was confirmed that Queen Tsiora was traveling to see the games, the Crags crackled with tension and energy.
The queen would watch the final day of the melee and, thought Tau with bitterness, she’d use the occasion to meet with the gathered Guardian Council without raising suspicion. She’d leave Palm City, having explained peace to the Ruling Council, and she’d come to Citadel City to finalize it with the military’s leaders. She’d come to begin the end of the Omehi.
Over the past moon cycle, these thoughts had plagued Tau with as much ferocity as his demon visions, and the only thing that calmed him was fighting. When Tau fought he did not have time to think.
“Uduak, I need your unit to break that team of Indlovu on the ridge before they flank us!” Hadith yelled, receiving a grunt from the big man, who set off with his men. “Tau, they’ll come at us again. They need to break through.”
Tau didn’t need a strategic mind to know Hadith was right. Scale Jayyed had their collective backs against an unclimbable section of the battleground. The Indlovu had herded them here like the brainless harvest animals from the old stories. Hadith had ordered several pitched fights, but they’d not gone well. Scale Jayyed was unused to fighting against an equal number of Nobles. This, combined with the stress of the day, the massive crowds, and the skill of Ozioma’s scale, was overwhelming them.
Hadith had minimized their failures with cleverness. He refused to stick to unfavorable battles and was careful to lose as few men as possible, a critical tactic in the Queen’s Melee, where each winning scale entered the next round with the number of men left standing at the end of their previous skirmish.
Melee competitors began the tournament with fifty-four men. If a scale lost ten men in round one, they began round two with forty-four. If that same scale lost eighteen in the second round, they went into round three with twenty-six fighters.
Jayyed, who had returned to the scale but remained distant, Anan, and Hadith had devised several strategies to take advantage of the melee’s rule set. The main strategy was to “sacrifice” Uduak, the scale’s second-strongest fighter, and his unit to bolster any faltering line. Uduak’s unit was a reserve defense that would crash into a losing battle to save the scale. They could do this because it did not matter which man was “killed” in each skirmish. All that mattered were the numbers. Uduak could “die” in round one and still fight in round two, as long as the number of fighters they fielded balanced against the number they had lost.
This was why Tau needed to win. If he could get far enough into the tournament, he was sure to face Kellan. Kellan Okar was Scale Osa’s strongest fighter, and his umqondisi would field him in every skirmish.
“No, Tau! Stay back!” Hadith hollered. “Retreat!”
Tau wanted to hit something, someone, maybe Hadith. “We are running out of room to run!”
“This is not where we fight. The ground favors the Nobles.”
“You’ve said that for the past span,” Tau argued.
“You want to win? We have to fight smarter. We cannot match them man for man, and the moment we go into a skirmish undermanned, we’re done.”
“We’ve already lost men and taken none of theirs!”
“Four down in a span? That’s a victory, Tau.”
“The only victory is putting all of them down,” Tau said, as the time to stand and fight blindsided them.
“Indlovu!” screamed Utibe. He’d run into a unit of Indlovu that had circled around Scale Jayyed, and Utibe was backpedaling fast, trying to avoid being cut down by the men chasing him.
Hadith shouted orders. “This is it! They’ve split three ways but their timing is wrong. The main unit is still a hundred strides away and Uduak has the rest of them engaged on the ridge.” Hadith pointed at the Nobles chasing Utibe and called to his scale. “Stop running! We outnumber the
m. Full force, kill!”
Words Tau had waited to hear. He raised his swords and ran at his enemy. He rushed past a backpedaling Utibe and charged the closest Noble.
Tau heard his scale’s war cry as he leapt into the air and brought his dulled skirmishing blades together, clapping either side of the Noble’s helmet. The Indlovu’s momentum kept his no longer conscious body running a few steps before he collapsed, and by then, Tau was in the fray.
These Indlovu had never fought Scale Jayyed. They might have heard of Tau; most in the citadel had. They might have laughed off the stories, mocking their Noble brothers who had fallen to him. They might have told one another it would be different when they faced such Common scum. They might have laughed then, in the comfort and safety of the Indlovu Citadel, but they were in the melee, Tau was among them, and there was only pain.
Tau slipped through them like the wind. Where he went, bones broke, the courageous became cowards, and always, always, there were the screams of men in torment, of prey who had forgotten what it was like to be hunted. In a small way, the world changed that day, when the Nobles of Scale Ozioma broke and ran, scattered by a new and horrible creature, born in Uhmlaba but bred in Isihogo.
When the rest of Scale Ozioma caught up, expecting to trap a few Lessers in a vise comprised of their betters, they found no such thing. The main unit of Ozioma’s Nobles fought hard, bravely. The Omehi rarely did less, but in losing an entire unit, the Indlovu had taken heavy losses, and they did not understand Tau’s nature.
“Follow him! Protect him! Follow, you spineless inyoka!” Hadith pointed, shouted, ran after Tau, pulled men along with him, fought an Indlovu, was almost brained and would have been if not for Yaw, and Tau was still three or four strides ahead. “Fight! Fight, damn you!” he roared at his men.
Tau’s world was a haze of violence. He did not see men around him. Not men, demons, but these demons could fall and that was a glory given by the Goddess. He lashed at them, swords used like bronze whips. The blades were blunt, but his brutality made him a butcher. He carved through the meat in his way with the ease of cutting through a carcass long dead.