by Evan Winter
Kellan had been lost. He’d murdered no one and she was threatening everything he’d worked for. He tried to calm her, begging her to justify her accusations. When she did, the episode with the crazy Common began to make sense. Kellan had explained himself, soothed the Gifted initiate, and considered the matter closed. However, the Goddess did not seem to see it the same.
The night after the Common dueled and beat Mayumbu, Kellan’s patron, Guardian Councillor Abasi Odili, came to him. The councillor explained that Scale Osa would skirmish Scale Jayyed. He wanted Kellan to take care of the Lesser who fought with two swords.
Odili, Kellan realized, didn’t know that Tau Solarin was the son of the man he’d ordered Dejen to kill earlier that same cycle. This was not personal. The Royal Nobles had simply had enough of Scale Jayyed and their unprecedented run. Odili wanted the scale obliterated and Tau dead.
Kellan wanted to refuse. He didn’t, though. He couldn’t lose the councillor’s patronage. Not yet.
It would have been different if his father hadn’t been branded a traitor and hanged. It would have been different if losing the man she loved hadn’t broken his mother, or if his sister were old enough to run the family’s estates, or, after having seen all the tragedy befalling them, if Kellan’s uncle had come to his kin’s aid. It’d be different if wishes were worldly, but they weren’t, and Kellan could look to no one other than himself to save his family.
He still needed Odili, and the man’s money and influence, because he had to become an Ingonyama. It was the only way he’d ever get out from under Odili’s thumb, his own family’s debts, his uncle’s disdain, and the shame of his father’s cowardice.
Becoming an Ingonyama was everything and the only thing Kellan wanted, before seeing Queen Tsiora at the Guardian Ceremony. He’d seen her before, when they were both young and she was a girl, but she couldn’t be called that anymore. Since receiving his guardian dagger from her, he’d thought about the queen more than any man should think about anything. It seemed destiny that the greatest service he could offer his people would also be his greatest joy.
Kellan’s uncle could never be Queen Tsiora’s true champion, and she would soon have to select another. It meant Kellan had a chance. His name was already spoken in the same breaths as many of the Omehi’s legendary warriors, and he’d heard it was whispered in Palm that he was a possibility. It scared him to think it and yet he could hardly think about anything else. He longed to see Tsiora Omehia in more than just his dreams.
Everything Kellan desired was in reach, but a single stride in the wrong direction could burn his hopes to ash. So he told Odili he’d do it and, for the second time, harm a member of the Solarin family.
Kellan exhaled and even his breath seemed to boil in the heat. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and, ready to commit violence, still had time to wish things could be different. He’d played a part in the death of the Common’s father, and there was no hiding from that or from the cruel work he was about to do.
Yet, he wanted to tell Tau he was sorry and that it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t, though, just like he couldn’t have turned down Odili. There was so much more at stake than one Lesser’s loss.
He called out across the space separating him from the Common of Kerem, taunting Tau with the things he’d learned from the Gifted initiate. “This day was fated,” he said, loud enough for those in the stands bordering the urban battlefield to hear. He’d give Odili his show. “Twice we’ve met. The first time, your father gave his life for yours. The second, a Gifted wanted you spared. Today, it’s the two of us, and I’ve spent my life training to kill men like you.”
The world had gone silent, making it easy to hear the strange thing the Common said before he attacked. “You’re wrong, Okar,” he said. “There are no men like me.”
Their blades met in a crash of bronze, and Kellan, much larger, weighing nearly twice what the Common did, planned to use his size, strength, and speed to overcome the smaller man. He’d make a play of it for the watching Nobles, embarrassing the Lesser. Then, after a time, he’d fake a killing blow that would, with the Goddess’s blessing, do no more than crack the boy’s skull.
It was cruel, but it was the best he could do, since Abasi Odili wanted the Common dead. After, Kellan would tell his patron that he thought he’d struck Tau hard enough to kill. He’d blame his dulled weapon for the error.
He slipped his sword away from the one held in Tau’s right, no doubt the Common’s better sword hand, and thrust his shield to blind him. As he did, he swung his own blade, planning to catch Tau in the arm or side. He didn’t get the chance.
The sword in the Common’s left hand moved faster than Kellan thought possible, hitting him on his helmet, snapping his head sideways and sending him stumbling with half the muscles in his neck wrenched out of place.
Head ringing and neck on fire, Kellan righted himself, only to be hit again. He raised his shield for cover and was struck below it. He whipped his sword at Tau’s last position, slicing through empty air before taking a bone-numbing blow to the leg that ripped through the leather and cut him.
He reeled and limped back, swinging wildly. The Common, out of reach and eyes blazing, stalked him.
Kellan’s heart hammered and his breathing was unsteady. He attacked anyway, but his swing was parried. He swung again and was blocked, repelled. He heaved himself back, desperate to make space, and heard the rumble of running feet.
He looked to the noise’s source and his heart sank. It was the unit of Lessers, the ones he’d not been able to finish. They’d come to finish him.
There were eight, maybe nine of them. Too many for him to take alone. But the Common pointed them to the buildings. Kellan didn’t dare hope they’d obey and almost wept when they did, running inside to help their sword brothers.
It made no sense, he thought. He’d sent twenty-seven Indlovu into those buildings. The Lessers had no chance against them all.
He grinned. This was it, then. All of Scale Jayyed were together, facing his men. The Lessers would be wiped out. That meant there was only one thing left to be handled. It was on him to eliminate the Common of Kerem.
“Blood will show!” he screamed, delivering a thrust for Tau’s chest. The Lesser dodged and Kellan corrected, his blade blasting back the other way, hitting nothing. He rebalanced, spinning low, shield out like a weapon to break Tau’s shins. It didn’t connect, so he adjusted, ready to strike, and was clubbed to the ground by the flats of two swords.
He gasped. The pain was excruciating and, for a breath, he thought his back broken. It wasn’t, but as the feeling in his body flooded back, it felt like someone had whipped hot coals into his skin. He tried to draw breath, but the fires webbing their way through his sides denied him a proper attempt.
“Get up, Nkosi Kellan,” the Common said, his voice a rasp. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Kellan spat, tasting blood, and forced himself to his feet. He was hurt, feigned it was worse by wobbling, then flew at Tau. His desire to leave the Lesser unharmed forgotten, he let his sword soar straight for the throat. The Lesser sidestepped as if he’d seen the same sort of attack a thousand times, and Kellan careened past, crumpling, then collapsing beneath the pain and blow to his shoulder from the Common’s sword hilt.
“Get up, nkosi,” the Common said. “A man should die on his feet.”
It was then Kellan realized the Common was toying with him. It was then he felt fear, clamping onto his neck like stone hands, filling his bladder, and making his legs weak. The Common wanted his life. The Common… Kellan tensed every muscle, coiling them, making them ready. He was not Odili’s lackey and not a coward like his father. He was Kellan Okar, the best the Indlovu Citadel had ever produced, and fated to be queen’s champion. His life would not come cheap.
He surged up, blade first, screaming obscenities, and the Common turned his attack, striking him on the upper arm. Kellan almost dropped his sword in agony, was attacked again, and, blun
dering away, he threw a desperate parry. It wasn’t enough, and he felt armor rip and skin tear as he took a cut to the rib cage that made every movement a misery.
The Common lunged. Kellan swept to intercept with his shield, missed, and took Tau’s blade between two of his armor plates, allowing a fingerspan of bronze to enter the muscle on his chest. He fell back, crying out, and wasn’t given time enough to blink before the bastard shot his other sword out and low, burying a handspan of bronze in the meat of his left hip. The Lesser’s blade pierced his side and ripped free, taking a flap of flesh and leather with it.
Kellan screamed and fell, the wash of sticky wet along his belt line telling him the wound would scar for life.
“Get up, Kellan Okar,” the impossibility standing over him said. “Time to die.”
ASHES
Tau waited for Okar to rise. The Noble had dropped his sword and was sitting on his rear. He was panting, one hand pressed against the gash Tau had torn in his side.
“Wait!” Kellan said, his free hand up, palm out.
“Greater Noble? That’s what you’re supposed to be?” Tau rasped, a fierce headache pounding in his head and thinning his vision down to slivers. “You’re nothing, less than nothing, an insect to be crushed.”
Tau felt tears coming and dashed them away with the back of his hand. He’d waited a long time for this moment. Here was a demon he could kill.
He heard the thunder of footsteps and looked over his shoulder. Several more demons had come out of the building. Tau snarled and blinked away the vision. It was the men from Scale Osa.
That was it, then. They had beaten Hadith and Yaw’s unit. Scale Jayyed had been defeated and Tau was to blame.
“Strike him and you die, Lesser scum!” shouted the first Noble out the door.
Tau looked to Kellan. The Indlovu was back on his feet, sword in his blood-soaked hand.
“Get him!” Kellan ordered. “Attack, burn you!”
The men of Scale Osa ran for Tau, Tau made for Kellan, and Kellan fled, making enough space so he could circle round and head for the safety of his men. Tau couldn’t get to Kellan in time, and with dulled swords it would have been difficult to kill Okar before Scale Osa could stop him. To have the time he needed with Kellan, Tau had to kill everyone.
He launched himself into the fray, swords whirling, and the closest man took a dulled blade to the face, shattering his eye socket. The second Indlovu was fortunate. He took a foot to the chest as Tau pushed off of him, making room to careen his weak-side sword into the elbow of another. That man’s arm made a sound like a thunderclap and then flapped loose, the bones connecting his upper and lower arm destroyed.
The rest of the men—there were thirteen, including Kellan and the one Tau had kicked—fanned out.
“Beg me!” shouted Kellan, who looked crazed and was still hunched over on the side where Tau had shaved his flesh. “Beg me for mercy!”
Tau attacked, and for a while he was winning, his sword snapping at them like a dragon’s jaws. He cut four fingers away from the hands of one Indlovu, blood spraying into the hot Xiddan air as the Noble fell away. He smashed his fist and hilt into the throat of another, and that one went down without protest. Eleven left. It was too many. Tau attacked.
Their blades sliced at him from every angle. One of them cut away Tau’s left earlobe. Another missed his hamstring but tore a string of flesh from Tau’s calf.
As they harried him, Tau searched the ring of men for Kellan’s face. If he was to die here, he would take that nceku with him, but Kellan had removed himself. He stood back from the circle and watched, his sword down and by his side.
“Okar, fight me!” Tau screamed. “Greater Noble? Standing behind your men, feared of a Lesser, a Common?”
Tau was struck from behind. He rolled with the hit, lessening the blow’s damage, and avoided being impaled on the point of another man’s sword. He snarled at the bastards surrounding him as he regained his feet, blocked one attack, then a second, before taking a sword flat to the gut that bent him double.
Refusing to be put down, he staggered and swung about with his blades, discouraging the rest from following up.
“None of you are worthy to lead us!” he seethed, waving his swords, keeping the Indlovu tentative.
“The Goddess judge you!” shrieked an overzealous Indlovu, diving after Tau. Tau spun off the man’s killing line and brought his sword onto the back of the Noble’s neck, breaking it. The Noble fell in the dirt, unnaturally still, whimpering, as Tau pretended to charge first one way, then the other.
“Hold the circle,” yelled one of the Indlovu. “Hold here and we kill him.”
Tau aimed his blades out to either side of his body, turning counter to the Indlovu’s rotation around him. His teeth were bared and he was ready to break more men, draw more blood, when he saw Jabari.
“Jabari…,” Tau said, not knowing what he thought to find there, and his old friend did not answer. Instead, the Petty Noble tightened his lips and kept his eyes on Tau’s sword, avoiding his face.
This was it, then. Tau readied himself. He’d charge Jabari, see if he could break through. If Jabari and the men beside him held, he’d cut the one to the left and spin to stop those behind him from ending his fight. The rest of the plan would follow from the reactions of his enemies.
It was a simple plan. He liked those best. It was also a pathetic plan. Tau sneered at the Nobles around him and gathered his breath. Eleven stood against him. There would be fewer before he died.
“In the name of Scale Jayyed, we surrender and submit to Scale Osa! We surrender and submit. Stand down! Stand down!” Jayyed, holding the gray-on-gray flag of the Ihashe, was running onto the battleground.
“No! I do not surrender!” Tau swung at the Indlovu around him. “I do not surrender!”
Running with Jayyed were two skirmish officiants. The Ihashe umqondisi with Jayyed was hurrying, but the one from the citadel lagged behind. No doubt he would have preferred to wait and see how things played out.
“It is not that Lesser’s choice,” Jayyed told the Indlovu around Tau. “I am the scale’s umqondisi and I surrender the skirmish. If anyone else is harmed it will be outside the protections of the Queen’s Melee.”
“Yes, yes,” the citadel umqondisi muttered. “Back away, it’s done. Scale Osa wins and progresses to the finals. Scale Jayyed is eliminated.”
Swords held ready, the Indlovu backed away. Tau eyed them, still turning, expecting one of them to attack at any moment. The last man he turned toward was Jabari, who continued to avoid his eyes.
Kellan spoke from a distance. “Well fought, Tau.”
“To ash with you!” Tau spat.
“You may not believe me, but I am sorry for this. I am sorry for your father. I wished no part in either event.” Kellan sheathed his sword and joined his men, who were already walking off the battleground.
“Don’t you speak of him!” Tau yelled to Kellan’s back. “I’ll kill you, Okar. I could have killed you today! Guardian dagger? Future Ingonyama? Go to your funeral pyre knowing I’m your better!”
“Be silent, Tau,” Jayyed said next to his ear. “Be silent.”
A ragged cheer was raised by the men of Scale Osa. They’d won. The crowd, though, come to see violence, were as voiceless as the sun setting overhead.
The Nobles in the stands did not speak. Worry gripped them. The Lessers in the stands did not speak. Rage had them. Scale Jayyed was eliminated and the tournament day had ended, but the bloodshed was just beginning.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SECRETS
Tau was injured, and instead of taking him to the Lesser infirmary, Jayyed and Anan took Tau to one of the small tents that served as private quarters for umqondisi in the Crags. Once there, they sent for a Sah priest to tend to Tau and bandage his wounds. Jayyed explained it was best to keep Tau out of sight until tempers in the Crags cooled. Already, several fights had broken out between Lessers and Nobles. Two Lessers, one
from the Governor caste, had been hung.
Tau thought to ask why. He didn’t. He was weary beyond belief, the cut on his leg ached, his ear burned, and his back was a giant welt.
The Sah priest, a short but curvy Governor caste woman, bound his cuts, rubbed foul-smelling ointment on his back, checked his head for injuries, and waved her hand over his eyes. She told Jayyed he’d be fine and that he should rest. Jayyed thanked her, and when he turned to speak with Anan, the doctor leaned close to Tau.
“You’ve shown us the truth,” she said. “We’re more than our caste. The Goddess blesses us equally.” She patted him on the shoulder, like his mother used to do, and walked out of the tent.
Jayyed waited until she left. “What did she say?”
Tau was sitting on a cot, staring at the ground. “She said the Goddess blesses us equally. That we’re more than our caste.”
“Demons in the mist!” swore Jayyed, making Tau flinch. “Now the priests?”
“Why not, Jayyed?” said Anan in a hushed voice. “They’ve watched the same melee we have.”
“Now is not the time.”
“Because we’re at war?” Anan asked.
Jayyed looked away.
“We’re always at war.”
“Come, Anan. Tau needs rest.” Jayyed held the tent’s flap open and they walked out.
Tau lay back and closed his eyes, but the pain was too much and he had to roll to his side. He reached for the oblivion of sleep. It would not come, chased away by thoughts that haunted him. Tau had hesitated. He had held back when he could have killed Kellan.
The tent rustled. Tau shot up, snatching the closer of his two swords as he did. It was Hadith.
“Put it down,” Hadith said, as if they were still on the battleground, as if he could still deliver orders that Tau had to obey.
Compromising, Tau lowered his blade but did not put it down. “How’s Uduak?”
Hadith grimaced. “He’ll live and recover. He’s already up and walking, Goddess be praised. But that’s not why I’m here.”