A Quick Sun Rises

by Thomas Rath

  It wasn’t only her discomfort at being cage that worked on her constantly but more importantly it was the time being wasted when so much was at stake. Her being there was not about retrieving her honor, though the possibility sent a thrill of excitement through her, it was now a matter of survival. She could not risk much more time before she would be forced to completely lay her honor aside and clamor for immediate judgment. The idea repulsed her soliciting a chilling shake that coursed through her body and tightened her stomach to the point of almost vomiting. It would be to go contrary to every moral fiber that was her; to give herself over as an animal bent on mere survival without consciousness or principle. Her stomach seized slightly and she forced the thought from her mind with effort. Today she would not compel herself into darkness but soon she would be left without choice. When that day came she knew she would never be able to find her way back again.

  Another day passed, this one seeming longer than the rest as she continued to struggle with what she may be forced to do. She avoided setting a date in her mind of when she would completely lay away who she was and demand to be seen but by the time the light was snuffed out of her tiny window she’d resigned herself to three days hence. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically but she still held tenaciously to the core of what made her Jne. She was Tjal, she kept reminding herself, and though the horror of the Jinghar was her current state, it would not break her—for another three days, that is.

  She was no longer able to make her own choices. Like the roc’s sacrifice that carried her to Thane’s people, she would do the same for the good of all. She comforted herself in the idea that it was what a true Tjal would do in such a situation. She sighed and finally understood what Thane had been facing all along. He had had to turn his back on his own people because they no longer carried the truth that once made them a great nation. Now she faced the same grim possibility.

  She slept well that night but the following three days passed all too quickly. She now marked ten days since she’d been caged with no hint as to when it might all end. By this time, Zadok’s armies could well be surrounding Bedler’s Keep in its final assault that would then leave the Tjal exposed as well. She could wait no longer. Time and history would mark her without honor but the choice was no longer hers to make. When the evening meal came she would cast herself off forever and no longer be Tjal. She would join Thane as one without people or history and become a wonderer with him—if it didn’t kill her to do so. For the first time in her life she felt fear. Fear so great that it seemed to cut off her breathing making it labored and shallow. Her head spun and she wanted to cry but only held back through sheer stubborn will.

  The light from the window marked the well known spot on the wall that told her the evening meal was coming. The shuffling of feet sounded down the hall and finally stopped at her cell. The guard turned and she could hear the insertion of the key to unlock her cage. Jne took a deep breath choking back the tears that tried to well up in her eyes. A lump formed in her throat that she knew would make it difficult for her to speak past. In mere moments she would cease to be Jne and become someone she did not know or care to recognize. The door opened. Squeezing her eyes shut, she opened her mouth to speak but her throat constricted cutting off any sound. Steeling herself, she tried again but instead of hearing her own voice a deeper sound touched her ears. “Jon’t’obed’ah y’ud”

  At first she didn’t understand what she’d spoken. It sounded nothing like her voice. Suddenly the chains holding her arms were released but even then the words did not register. It wasn’t until her guard reached in and unshackled her right wrist that the words that were spoken formed again in her mind. Jon’t’obed’ah y’ud. But they were not her words at all. She had not spoken them. It had not been her voice.

  With one arm free, the guard moved back and started to unfetter her left hand and then her mind finally wrapped around what he’d said. Jon’t’obed’ah y’ud. Your judgment waits. Her judgment waits. Opening her eyes, she stared at the guard for a moment finally realizing she was free from her chains as he motioned her out of the cell. They had accepted her petition. She was going to be judged allowing her to retain the morsel of honor she still clung to. Soon she would be full Tjal again, with her complete honor restored—or she would be dead. She took a deep breath and let it wash over her as if to cleanse her from the terror that had almost been hers.

  The guard’s eyes flashed at her slight hesitation and Jne found herself bounding for the opening before he decided she was not worthy of her granted request. Grabbing the steel door she pulled herself out and then up so that her legs could drop to the floor. The guard watched her closely as she fought to keep her feet and balance. Any faulting now would forfeit her chances for judgment. Though cramped and weakened by her incarceration, she found that she still had strength enough to walk as she fell in behind the guard that had since turned and led the way out. With each step she found her strength returning, and though her muscles spasmed with the sudden exertion, they seemed to welcome the chance at exercise.

  The fact that she was not chained and allowed to follow the guard, his back given to her, was a subtle boost to her already fragile honor. No real prisoner, especially anyone of a different race, would have been afforded such trust.

  It was only a matter of a few steps before they exited the prison. The Tjal had no real use for incarceration as any full Tjal would never think of fleeing should they be called to answer for breaking the law. And any offense that might warrant captivity was punishable by death so only a very few holding cells were constructed. Outsiders were under the same law though it was recognized that those not of the Tjal race had little to no honor so most of the time the cells were used for them until their judgment. Jne had been in a limbo state when it came to her sudden appearance on the plains. Having been marked as Jinghar she was no longer seen as a member of the Tjal but neither was she relegated to the ranks of a complete outsider. She was practically a non-person in Tjal-Dihn eyes and society.

  Thankfully it was dusk, the sun having already dropped below the horizon while its influence was still visible in the western sky. Had it been daytime she would have been rendered almost completely blind having spent so much time in her mostly dark cell. She drew in another deep, cleansing breath. Though the jail was above ground, in a small building without exterior doors, the air still smelled sweeter and fresher.

  Turning south, they walked the mile or so toward the location where her judgment would take place. The jail was a lone, squat building out on the plain away from contact with the main population. The distance was not to discourage any visitors, since no Tjal would ever debase themselves to visit a law breaker no matter what their relation, but to keep the “refuse”, as it were, out and away. Jne welcomed the distance giving her muscles a chance to work themselves out of the slumber they had been forced to endure the past week and a half. As if aware of their deprivation and the exercise her legs were getting, her hands ached to feel the hilts of her swords.

  Seeing the city pressed against the mountains in the distance, she was quickly able to determine where they were. There were only two permanent Tjal settlements, all other Tja preferring the freedom of a nomadic existence. This was Kabu of the Kabu’ja located on the northern tip of the Dorian Mountains almost completely removed from the plains of Enn. Those of the Kabu’ja were the masters of sword making and their city was situated to make trading for ore with the dwarfs a more convenient practice. Just like the best bred horses were offered by Jne’s Tja, no finer swords were created by any others. The skill of the Kabu’ja was legendary.

  The other permanent Tjal settlement was Kufa and was farther east near the plentiful groves of trees bordering the Enn. That is where the Kufa’ja made their home because they were workers of wood dealing mostly in exquisitely fine pieces of furniture.

  Kabu was also the location of the only Tjal marketplace where all the Tja could be found selling their crafts and goods from all parts of t
he Enn. The Kabu’ja of course had their swords, while the Kufa’ja carted in their furniture and other wood pieces. Jne’s people brought horses to trade while the Svan’ja and Keno’ja traded jewelry and fine clothing respectively. Outsiders were also allowed to sell and buy here but very few of them risked coming here to trade fearing there was too great a risk to losing one’s life while in the company of the Tjal-Dihn. Those few who did come only did so because their greed was greater than their love of life, though rarely did any misunderstandings result in bloodshed.

  It was almost completely dark by the time they reached the first buildings on the outskirts of the city. Unlike Calandra and other HuMan cities, those on the city’s fringe were no poorer or viewed any less worthy than those who occupied the city’s center. All were equal among the Tjal-Dihn. The buildings were almost all the same. Squat box shapes made of blocks coated in cement and whitewashed. Most had concrete steps leading up the front or side of the building to a flat roof that was used as a sleeping area during the hot months of the year. Some blue colored domed roofs were scattered about in no particular pattern marking the sword smithies and breaking up the monotonous white block houses that made up the rest of the city.

  Few people were found on the streets as most were inside enjoying their evening meal. Those with whom they did come in contact turned their backs to Jne as she passed; some even spitting on the ground by her feet. Though she wore no badge to label her as Jinghar apparently word had gotten out. She ignored the reactions, expecting nothing less and knowing she would have done the same were she to watch a Jinghar pass in front of her. Such a person was seen as less than a dog returning to its own vomit to gulp down its shame. Ironically, these same people would welcome her into their homes with open arms and complete trust once her station and honor were returned by judgment. No stigma or label was placed on any who returned from being Jinghar; quite the contrary, most such people, though rare, were celebrated.

  The guard suddenly stopped and knocked at a blue door outside one of the many block buildings. It was nondescript in its simplicity baring nothing that would mark it as other than the rest of the structures that surrounded it. A narrow stairway climbed at an angle from the right rising just above the right corner of the doorframe as it made its way to the flat topped roof. As another block house sat atop this one, the stairs also gave passage to the building above. A small, circular window to the left of the door was covered by a muted red cloth that was not so thick as to completely block out the light behind it and thus became illuminated giving it a warm feel against the starkness of the whitewashed outer walls.

  The door opened easily revealing a Tjal woman of great age who merely beckoned the visitors enter. Jne caught her breath at the sight of her never having seen a Tjal of such advanced years. Though unmatched by any in skill with a sword, most Tjal did not live long enough to die of old age. Most found such a thought horrific and even bordering on dishonorable. As if reading her thoughts the woman suddenly turned and, in a movement as fluid and nimble as one half her age, had two swords instantly unsheathed and pressed against Jne’s soft throat. “Lest you think me old and frail, young one, my ability, along with my honor, remains intact.”

  Jne didn’t speak, knowing to do so would only invite the old woman’s steal to sink deeply into her flesh. The woman watched her for a moment as if waiting for any excuse to do just that and then, as quickly as the swords had appeared, they were gone again. Turning her back to them, the woman shuffled over to a high backed chair situated in front of a small fire that danced gaily in the dome topped fireplace. No other furniture cluttered the small room that was obviously a foyer of types that allowed for visitors without giving them access to the rest of the house. Similar strips of cloth, like the one covering the front window, hung in doorways on either side of the fireplace blocking off any view of what might reside behind them making the room feel cramped and suddenly overheated by the fire. Of course, even should there have been another chair, or many, Jne would not have dared sit in one even had she been offered. The fact that she was even in the woman’s home was like calling in a dung pile and giving it a place at one’s table.

  “So you come seeking judgment,” the old woman said while staring into the fire. It was not a question but a statement so Jne did not venture to answer. “So tell me child,” she continued, “how is it that one so young loses all honor and allows herself the disgrace of becoming Jinghar?”

  Jne cringed at the words though spoken simply and without an accusing tone they still bit deeply. “I was beaten in the challenge of steal,” she answered, the words stinging her like acid on her tongue.

  “And you have paid the blood debt?” the old woman asked.

  Jne felt surprised that the old woman skipped over her loss to Thane and went right to the debt she had owed to him. She expected to be shamed further by having to confess her defeat to an outsider and even more so by revealing that it was someone she loved. Such an admission would bring further doubt not only to her ability but to her motivation. The question of ultimate shame would then be asked as to whether she purposefully allowed herself to lose to save her lover’s life. The idea made her suddenly feel nauseous. A barely audible “Yes,” was all she could manage as she fought to control her stomach and her emotions.

  Then her utmost dread was given voice. “And how is it that you were beaten at steal yet still live?”

  So, her humiliation was to be drawn out after all. Jne felt lightheaded, her complexion draining to an ashen white and it was all she could do to keep from toppling over. She suddenly felt like it was too much to pass through; that she would rather have the woman take her life now and be done with it. Now, more than ever, she’d wished Thane had ended her life when he’d had the chance. Still, she was not bitter toward him for his choice, knowing he had been an outsider not knowing honor. And though he claimed the power that beat her came from one of his Tane, she would never think to try and make an excuse for her loss. Her shoulders noticeably sagging, Jne finally answered. “I was beaten by an outsider who knew not honor.”

  She felt empty. It took all of her strength to not fall to the ground in a heap and weep like a child. Any type of physical pain could not equal the anguish of soul she was forced to endure at that moment. She felt as if her soul, the essence of what made her Jne, was being ripped and shredded apart.

  “I see,” was all that the woman said. How she did so without a tone laced in disgust at such a vile admission, Jne could not know. The old woman merely stared into the fire as if enjoying an evening all alone with a cup of tea. “And now you come seeking redemption from your humiliation through judgment.” Again it was not a question but a stated fact. Shifting in her chair slightly, the woman continued to stare at the flames as if she were the only one in the room.

  Jne could feel the beads of sweat running a course down her back as the room suddenly felt stifling. She was on the edge of a sword’s blade that at any moment could slice quick and true, ending her ordeal and possibly sealing their doom. All it would take was one word from her aged host and all would be lost.

  The old woman sat silent for long moments, the sound of crackling wood as it burned the only sound in the room. Outside was quiet as if all of nature held its breath to hear the final decision. Jne began to dread, feeling certain that her petition for judgment would be denied. She’d failed already, and worst of all to an outsider. By all rights she should not even be here. Her corpse should be lying on the plains her flesh picked at by carrion birds while worms ate her innards for none who lost judgment were worthy of Tjal honors in burial. And yet, the irony was that she still may find herself in such a state should she be denied. But, having been stripped of any morsel of dignity, she found herself uncaring as to what her final state might be or how soon it should befall her. She had failed. She failed as a Tjal-Dihn being beaten by Thane in the first place and now she would fail in warning her people and seeking their help against the evil that would surely overtake them. She
was an empty vessel to the point that when the old woman spoke, her words barely touched her. “You will have judgment in the morning.”

  Jne did not speak, her face an empty canvas, as she was led from the building and taken back outside the city. The old woman had merely spoken and then arisen from her chair, disappearing behind one of the cloth covered doors before the guard escorted her out. She knew that she should have felt relief at the decision but she had been stripped down so completely that she wondered if she would ever feel anything again.

  As the guard took her back to the holding area where she had spent the last ten days, he directed her to a small chamber just across the hallway from the cell she’d occupied before. This time she was left unfettered, no guard was posted by her door, and a small cot with a blanket and a pillow were provided. A hot meal was left for her as well, but she ignored it even though her stomach was now as empty as her soul.

  When the door closed behind her she simply threw herself onto the cot and wept bitterly.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jne woke with a start, the last wisps of the dream she’d been having quickly fading out of memory. Her eyes burned and her stomach ached, though from hunger or the heaving sobs that had almost completely overtaken her the night before she could not tell. Last night’s dinner still sat untouched by the door no longer appetizing even in her state of hunger. She would not eat breakfast either when it came—if it came. She would not risk being judged with a full stomach.

  Though in her current state of mind she almost yearned for death, she would not simply offer up her life without showing she still held to some bit of honor by fighting for every last breath. She would not give herself over to total loss of identity, nor would she shame the one who would judge her.