The Man Without Hands

by Eric Malikyte

  The High Elder gestured to Kirana and Reysha. The look on her face was anything but pleased. “This is what worries me, my children. We have allowed ourselves to grow soft in our exile from the surface world. While the Shar, Malo’thul’s Seed, and the Masku all move to overshadow us entirely, to erase any trace that we once dominated the lands of this world, our children bicker and fight amongst each other over trivialities.”

  The Valier set Kirana down. She immediately fell to her knees and bowed to her Elder, hiding her shame. “I am truly sorry, my Elder. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Reysha bowed reluctantly.

  She felt the Elder’s eyes burning her, she dared not rise up from her position on the steps.

  “I do not tolerate interruptions, young woman,” the High Elder said, “not even from the daughter of Kiel.”

  Another Valier approached from the doorway Kirana had just come from, and awaited orders from the Elder.

  “Take them to my chambers. I’ll decide what sort of punishment they deserve later.”

  The Valier bowed and grabbed at Kirana’s arm.

  3

  The guards led them out of the cathedral, and Reysha didn’t say another word to her the entire way. Kirana cursed herself for falling for Reysha’s taunts. Doubtless, Geidra would have them cleaning the bathing pools and tilling soil in the gardens for thirty second moons. And that was if they were lucky.

  The guards led them through the cavernous tunnels to the north, to the Elders’ Quarter, where the Council lived. Each Elder had their own tower, adorned with statues featuring their likenesses and those of their long line of ancestors. The cavern wasn’t as large as the main part of the city, but it didn’t need to be. The pathways were cleaner here than anywhere else in the city. And at the very end of the cavern was the biggest tower of them all, belonging to the High Elder herself.

  Someday, I’m going to live here, Kirana thought.

  Reysha scoffed, glaring at the towers; Kirana didn’t dare ask why she’d made the sound.

  The guards led them through great Geidra’s foyer, her living space, and up the spiral staircase to the Elder’s own chambers, then locked the doors behind them.

  “This is your fault,” Kirana said.

  “Oh, is it?” Reysha said, her expression like stone.

  “Yes! You did this on purpose, you knew how I would react—”

  “And you had to be stupid enough to fall for it.” Reysha grinned and rubbed her face, which was a little red from where Kirana’s fist had landed.

  “You’re horrible!”

  “And you’re a privileged brat. Our warrior ancestors would spit on you.”

  “Take that back!”

  “Or what, you’ll scratch me?” Reysha started chuckling. “Or perhaps you’ll run to the Elder and tell on me like a damn child? I meant what I said back there. Your father might have earned his place, but you’re just a spoiled, sheltered brat.”

  “I am not!”

  “Prove it in the Trials, then.”

  “The Trials aren’t for another five processions...”

  “Yeah, you’re right. No sense preparing. You’ll just lose to me anyway.”

  “I will not!”

  Reysha grinned. “I wonder if you’re prepared for the embarrassment that will follow?”

  Kirana felt her blood come to a boil. Her fists tightened, and she could feel the fires feathering out from deep within her center, through each of her points of focus; she could see flames licking the air around her body.

  “Now I know I’ve touched a nerve.” Reysha’s breasts rose and fell as she belted laughter. “Your anger personified in an aura.”

  Kirana slapped at Reysha’s face, but the other girl caught her wrist and squeezed tight.

  “No,” Reysha said. “You only get to do that once.”

  Reysha loosed her grip, and Kirana stomped off to the other side of the room, crossing her arms tight. It was going to be a very long wait for the Elder. She held her wrist and wondered what the result of the Trials would be.

  Kirana had always assumed that she would end up being one of the top finishers of the Sulen Tukar tests...

  Now, though?

  She felt like maybe the others had worked harder. Maybe even Sage, whom her father regarded as a slouch, was secretly practicing his skills in private, trying to fool them all into thinking he wasn’t a contender to reach the status of Valier.

  Her father would never allow it, of course. Not the son of a traitor. No one could trust him, or the rest of what remained of his family, for that matter.

  One cannot trust tainted blood.

  A horrifying thought crossed Kirana’s mind. What if she wasn’t meant to be a warrior after all? What if she had some latent talent for Sulen Ara’ka?

  Would Father force her to move to the Urdys Quarter?

  Reysha paced around the chamber, dancing her fingers over the trinkets on the High Elder’s desk. She spun Geidra’s leather chair around, and before Kirana could open her mouth, she plopped down into the chair and kicked her feet up onto the carven stone surface of the desk.

  “Are you determined to get us exiled?” Kirana’s voice cracked. “Get out of her chair!”

  Reysha rolled her eyes and picked up one of the ornate daggers that rested on the desk, twirling the hilt around and around. “I’m trying to imagine what it feels like...”

  “To what?”

  Reysha stopped twirling the dagger; her face was grave. “To oppress my people.”

  “What?”

  She had to be crazy—or deliberately trying to drive Kirana nuts! Why else would she be saying all of these things?

  At that moment, the doors gave a click click clack and swung open, and Reysha’s expression quickly turned to shock.

  “Get out of my chair, child!” Elder Geidra’s voice boomed through the chamber like lightning striking down from the heavens. “You’ll take your place on the floor where disobedient wretches like you both belong!”

  The words stung. All Kirana’s life, she’d always been the good one, the example to be measured against. She did as the High Elder commanded and went to her knees before her.

  Reysha begrudgingly got up from the High Elder’s seat and joined Kirana on the floor, making it seem like a chore.

  Geidra had changed into her gold and white robes, the sash tied tight around her waist and her old grey hair tied back in a knot, but from her vantage point Kirana she could see that the Elder was wearing combat-ready boots, the same the Valier wore. High Elder Geidra was always prepared, even at the age of seven hundred and three processions.

  “Reysha, I expected this sort of behavior out of you,” Geidra said. “But, Kirana? I’m really disappointed in you. Your father has assured me that he’s going to find a special punishment for you.”

  Kirana nodded, and tried not to let the tears come flowing out. “I promise it’ll never happen again, my—”

  “Silence!” Geidra’s brow creased. She sagged back in her chair. It was then that Kirana noticed the bags beneath her eyes, and the lines creasing her scowl. She looked so tired. “Your father may punish you, but I’m not done with you.

  “Your generation is troublesome. We sit at the brink of annihilation at the hands of our enemies, and you children seem content enough to fight amongst each other!” A faint grin caused the wrinkles to multiply and spread across Geidra’s face. “No doubt you thought you’d get off with farming duty or cleaning the bathing pools because of your father’s rank, no?”

  Kirana nodded.

  “No.” Geidra leaned forward, grabbing for the golden dagger that Reysha had been so carelessly playing with earlier. “When I’m done with you, you’ll both pray for the Shar to come and drag your tired bodies into the abyss.”

  Kirana swallowed a lump in her throat; she had a question begging at the edge of her lips.

  “You have a question?” Geidra asked.

  “Father suspects that Sage has been leaving the city
,” Kirana said. “And I suspect that Reysha has been helping him leave the city at second moon! I was only trying to help catch him!”

  “I have not!” Reysha shouted.

  “My Elder, surely she should have a greater punishment than myself?” Kirana said.

  High Elder Geidra leaned back in her chair, contemplating and toying with the dagger, spinning it through her fingers.

  “No.” Geidra stabbed the dagger into her desk. It made a loud thunk that echoed through the chamber. “Sage is of no concern to either of you. What he’s done, and will do, and the punishment that follows, is in the hands of myself and your father.” She cleared her throat and leaned forward once more. “Now, tomorrow, you’re going to report to the Hall of Trials as soon as your lessons are complete. Is that understood?”

  Kirana nodded, but Reysha stood without leave.

  “What are you doing?” Kirana asked.

  There was obviously a rage boiling inside Reysha. The temperature had risen slightly—her Sulen was rising. Finally, the girl answered, “What if my mother needs my help cleaning your great cathedral?”

  “I’ve seen to it that she won’t,” Geidra said. “And I did not give you leave to stand.” She leapt over the length of the desk, as if she were a young woman, and swept her foot at Reysha’s legs with such force that she spun around and slammed against the stone floor with a resounding SLAP! “You stand when I tell you to!”

  Reysha’s teeth bared; her eyes stabbed daggers through her High Elder, but her expression quickly softened, and she returned to her proper position on the floor. Kirana could scarcely hold back her laughter.

  “Is this funny to you?” Geidra asked.

  Kirana shook her head with a gulp. “No, my Elder.”

  High Elder Geidra sighed and waved her hand out.

  Both of them flinched, fearing a terrible wave of lightning, or fire, or pure Sulen, that would carve great fissures in the stone floor; but only a gust of wind swept out, catching their hair and clothes. “There’s one more thing you two should know.”

  Kirana and Reysha looked at each other briefly.

  “You missed the entire point of the summons today,” Elder Geidra said, clasping her hands. “You know I hate repeating myself, so listen carefully.

  “The other Elders and myself agree that it’s time to stop treating your generation like children. Most of you are already twenty processions old. It’s time for you to treat your training seriously and undergo the Trials.”

  “What?” Kirana said. “But they weren’t supposed to happen for another five processions!”

  “And when I was your age, we were ready to take them by seventeen!” Elder Geidra shouted. “I meant it when I said a new war is coming. With the way things are going on the surface, it’s a matter of second moons rather than processions before it arrives at our doorstep. And as you all are now, you’ll be slaughtered by the Shar. It’s time we return to a stricter standard. It’s time you all became warriors.”

  Reysha glanced at Kirana and whispered, “Looks like I’m going to kick your ass sooner rather than later.”

  “What was that?” Elder Geidra said. “Would you like to share that with me?”

  Reysha shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

  “Good,” Elder Geidra said. “Remember, as soon as your lessons end, your punishment starts.”

  “Yes, High Elder,” Kirana said.

  “Do you understand that, Reysha?” Elder Geidra asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Reysha said.

  “Good. Now get out of my sight.”

  Kirana found her legs and stood, shaking; bowed once more, shuffled out the door, not even paying Reysha any attention, and ran all the way home.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SAGE

  Sage found Wren in the old library, where she spent most of her spare time. She was so busy studying one of her tomes under the light of the Olloketh crystals, she hadn’t noticed him coming in through the rickety front doors. At least, she had made no sign that she had noticed him.

  He suppressed his Sulen and approached her from behind, tiptoeing and doing his best not to make any noise.

  The old library was where a lot of the texts Elder Geidra deemed “forbidden” or “unnecessary” were kept. Some of those were just stories that had been passed down by their ancestors; others told tales of uprisings and rebellions that had happened during the fall of the Sulekiel Empire. Long before Sage’s father had ever got it in his head to challenge the great High Elder Geidra. History and fictions not fit for responsible Sulekiel warriors or citizens.

  He made his way along the wooden path toward Wren, through stacks of dust-covered tomes and rusting metal shelves. Yce Ralakar used wood sparingly, since it was easier to mine for minerals and ore down here than to risk the extremely loud activity of chopping or blasting trees down.

  “If you’re attempting to startle me,” Wren said, without removing her face from her book, “you’ve failed. I heard you open the door. You make too much noise.”

  “Damn,” Sage said, chuckling and strolling up to the ancient table where she was doing her studying. “What are you reading this time?”

  Wren held the dusty tome up, smiling. “Just some taboo histories. Not for your eyes, of course.”

  “Right,” Sage said, taking a seat at the table. “We can’t have me learning things now. Where’s everyone else?”

  Wren shrugged. “In the barracks I would guess. Why aren’t you at High Elder Geidra’s summons?”

  Sage leaned back in the chair, balancing it at a forty-five-degree angle, and scoffed. “It got cramped. Fast.”

  “You shouldn’t tempt fate,” Wren said, concern written in her ruby stare. Even when chastising him, her voice was calming. The blackened brands made curly sigils on the opal skin of her face and up the length of her arms For once, her hood was off, showing her ear-length locks of obsidian hair. “I hear Geidra takes these things very seriously.”

  “You and Takarus are all about berating me with warnings today, aren’t you?” Sage said, sighing. “It’s not like I left the city.”

  “Have you?” Wren asked, her gaze very serious all of a sudden.

  Sage shrugged, bringing the chair back down to the floor. “Of course not!”

  “Good. Because if you did, and if they caught you, they would exile you, and you do not want to know all the things the Elders have done to those they’ve exiled.”

  “Let me guess—” Sage leaned forward, picking up the dusty tome. “—you read it in one of these tomes that I’m forbidden to read. Can it be any worse than putting me in abaniel shackles and sending me off to sea?”

  “I can neither ascend nor descend.”

  “You’re obtuse, you know that?”

  She smiled. “That’s why you enjoy my company.”

  Sage broke eye contact, staring at the table’s dried, splintering surface. Wren picked up a dented metal cup and drank from it. Everything the healers had was second rate to what other Sulekiel had in the city. Save for their knowledge. Maybe that was why Geidra feared them.

  “Tell me,” Sage said. “What’s it say in those tomes about the Shar?”

  Wren sighed. “We’ve been over this before. There isn’t much.”

  “There has to be something. Something that indicates where they came from, why they supposedly attacked us.”

  “Have you considered the idea that perhaps the legends are true?”

  Sage shook his head. “Seems unlikely. Why hasn’t anyone who isn’t aligned with Geidra seen a Shar since the last war ended? Why would they keep themselves hidden from the Masku? Why haven’t they found us?”

  “Careful what you say, Sage.”

  “You think Geidra’s spies are watching even now?”

  She shook her head. “No...”

  I’ve been to the surface, he thought. I’ve seen the Masku...and I haven’t seen a single one of these Shar that are supposed to be so terrible.

  But he couldn’t say that
aloud.

  “I see a helluva lot more daemons right here at home,” Sage said instead.

  “The legends say they can conceal their appearance to—”

  “So can a Sulekiel.”

  “This theory again.” Wren laughed. “You spend far too much time thinking about this stuff.”

  “I’m just saying. Don’t you think it’s weird? The tomes we’re allowed to read tell us that these Shar reach into our minds and show us what they want us to see, right? What’s to stop an especially powerful Sulekiel from doing the same thing to their own people to make the enemy look like daemonic beings? Even unrefined Sulen Ara’ka users have trouble not peering into the minds of those they heal.”

  “You’re too suspicious for your own good.”

  “I have reasons.”

  Wren avoided his gaze. “Yes. Well, it’s not just High Elder Geidra that treats us like this...” He could feel her sadness filling the room like a thick fog. “It is tradition.”

  “You know how I feel about tradition.”

  She nodded, smiling again. “Painfully aware.”

  Footsteps fell at Sage’s back, and then the drunken shouts of another friendly voice called out to them, “What’s all this noise I hear! This is a library!”

  “Like that’s ever stopped you from getting drunk and singing your stupid hymns at the top of your lungs.” Sage twisted around in his chair as Belyl’s high-pitched shouts stopped bouncing off the cracked dome ceiling.

  Belyl stepped out of the bookshelves. Like Wren, and every other practitioner of Sulen Ara’ka, he wore the white robes of the healers at all times. He had skin as red as garnet, which helped to mask the brands that marked his face and arms. “That was a fun second moon, wasn’t it?”

  “If we were anywhere else, they would have sent the guards,” Sage said.

  Belyl leaned over the table. He smelled of Masku liqueur. Was he already drunk? “What are you doing here, Sage? I thought there was some important summons?”

  “I’ll tell you that as soon as you tell me where you got all the booze,” Sage said, grinning.