The Obsidian Heart

by Mark T. Barnes

  Distant screams carried on the wind. Fierce roars and the sound of metal on metal. The Tau-se and the Ishahayans were culling the enemy. One group fierce, proud, and loud; giving voice to their prowess. The other as silent as a man dying alone and surprised.

  Nazarafine approached Mari, hands fidgeting. “Mari? Can you come and have a look at Navid? His wound looks more serious than I thought.”

  Navid sat with his head back, eyes closed, hand clenched around his wounded arm. Bloodstains made deep shadows between his fingers. Mari stepped across her friends and crouched beside the Saidani-sûk warrior poet. The air smelled of mould from the pit, mingling with the metallic scent of Navid’s blood. His skin was clammy and he barely opened his eyes when she touched him. His pulse was slow and weak. She took a knife from her boot and sliced the man’s sleeve open, then covered her mouth with her hand at what she saw. The wound was long and ragged, a divot of flesh missing, exposing muscle and the hint of bone. She swore. The sounds of combat and shouting lingered on the wind. They’re getting closer. It won’t be long now and Navid will be no use to us at all.

  “Why didn’t you tell anybody your wound was this bad?”

  “You suffered worse at Amnon and still killed fifty Iphyri with a broken amenesqa.” He barely moved as she poured water across the wound to clean it. He can’t feel pain in his wound. Not a good sign. “All the stories say so.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear. I’ll bind this as best I can, but—”

  “Out here this wound will be the end of me and we both know it,” Navid said with a bitter smile. “My fate was sealed the moment we were forced into the Dead Flat. At least I can make my end worthy of remembering. If any of us escape, that is.”

  “If any of us escape.”

  Mari tightly bound the wound in strips torn from her own coat, though they began to stain with blood soon after she knotted them in place. She noticed Ekko, Shar, and Hayden tense, and reached for her weapon. Then her friends relaxed as Mauntro and Danyūn joined them. They were both bloodied and breathing heavily.

  “Report,” Roshana said grimly.

  “Baniq is dead,” Danyūn said with equanimity. “Zoer and Fyra will continue to hamper our enemies as best they can. From what I could see there are a very great number of trained warriors on that ship that followed us. The wind-corsair is the Skywolf, Tahj-Shaheh’s flagship. The Marble Sea corsairs aboard will be her elite crew. There are at least four squads of Anlūki here also.”

  “That’ll be trouble and a half,” Mari said. She hesitated, afraid to ask the question Danyūn answered for her anyway.

  “Yes. Belamandris the Widowmaker leads them. It was he who slew Baniq and took his head.”

  “Don’t suppose you could ask your brother to let us go, young miss?” Hayden asked, rubbing sand from his eye. “’Cause I really ain’t inclined to fight his lot. Amnon was eventful and all, but it ain’t something I’m in a hurry to repeat.”

  “Anani, Furu and Kofo, Nsay and Samu, have also gone to their rest,” Mauntro growled. He plucked an arrow from the meat of his upper arm, snapping it before throwing it away. “We are badly outnumbered and our enemies are right behind us. Perhaps, Rahn-Roshana, you should—”

  “Mari!” Belam shouted. Mari peered over the edge of the platform to see her brother at the foot of the stairs. Roshana shot Mari a hate-filled look, teeth preternaturally bright in the moonlight, but Belam’s voice cut off any chance for Mari to care about that. “Please come out and talk with me, before anybody else gets hurt. You’re outnumbered and there’s really no other logical choice but to surrender.”

  Before Mari could draw breath to warn the others to stay silent, Roshana cried out.

  “Pah-Erebus fa Belamandris! This is Rahn-Näsarat fe Roshana. I’ll parley with you, if I have your word you’ll treat with us fairly.”

  After a brief pause, Belam yelled back. “As you like. But please understand my trust in you is no big thing, not after the stunt you tried against my father at The Twelveway. If I suspect you of any treachery, I’ll end you.”

  “Agreed.” Roshana shared a few terse words with Nazarafine and Siamak. Then she whispered something to Danyūn and Mauntro before walking down the stairs towards Belam, her head held high.

  Mari looked to the bottom of the ziggurat to see the lean, blood-hued streak that was her brother. His outline was snagged in the shifting sands as he prowled silently, waiting for Roshana to come to him. His soldiers where nowhere to be seen.

  Mari turned to her companions and spoke to them quietly. “Belam will be sending people to flank us, so keep your eyes peeled. We’ve the high ground and they can only come at us in small numbers. If we stay calm, we can survive this.”

  Ekko ran his thumb along a fortune-coin plaited into his mane, lion’s face as calm as it always was. “I hear you, Mariam.”

  Shar took a feather from her dawn-toned quills and whispered into it, banishing ill-omen, before casting it into the wind. It fluttered for a while, then was snagged and carried swiftly away to the west. Shar swore to herself. In answer to Mari’s look she grinned weakly and said, “Makhar-hawana-yé. The west is the place where shadows and ill-omens are born.”

  Mari flicked her Sûnblade with her thumbnail. “She will chase the shadows down and end them, Shar. We are all of us in the best of company here. We can come out of this alive.”

  “I wonder where Indris is?” Hayden mused before coughing, almost doubling over. Shar was soon at his side, supporting him. The fit lasted an uncomfortably long time, his loud coughs cracking across the wailing wind. When he finished he looked up, eyes glazed with pain, fist pressed to his chest. He spoke, though, as if nothing had happened. “He usually swoops in like some hero from the sagas, Changeling afire and crooning, scaring our enemies so much their stones creep up into their bellies. Reckon he’ll be sorry he missed this.”

  “No doubt you’ll tell him yourself,” Shar murmured.

  “Oh, I’ve no doubt of that at all, young miss.”

  Belam was still alone when Roshana joined him. Her brother made the Second Obeisance, true to the tenets of sende, while Roshana stood imperious and unmoving. No sound drifted up from where they stood, though Mari cautiously watched their hand gestures, her eyes darting to any imagined motion amongst the stones. Belam and Roshana spoke for several minutes before the two of them headed up the stairs.

  “There’s no need for everybody to die here,” Roshana said as she reached the top. Belamandris lingered behind her, a gentle smile on his beautiful golden face. Roshana looked to each of the companions in turn. “No need. I’m sure we can agree on that.”

  “What do you suggest?” Nazarafine asked cautiously.

  “None of you really know me, save Mari,” Belam nodded to his sister, smile turning melancholy for a moment. But like the sun coming from behind clouds he brightened. “And some of her friends, of course, from our little difference of opinion in the Rōmarq. But I’m a honorable man and I don’t want any more deaths. Right now we can agree to some simple terms, and go our separate ways.”

  “What are your terms?” Siamak asked. Danyūn sauntered to the edge of the platform and looked down. His frown caught Mari’s attention. The sand was littered with soldiers who had emerged from the surrounding stone circle. Nadir and Jhem were among them. There were the severed heads of the two Ishahayans and five Tau-se at their feet. Mari looked at her brother, who shrugged indifferently.

  “I want Vahineh.” Belam said. It took him a while to see her, hidden behind Omen as she was. Omen remained still as the statues around him and Mari’s heart lifted when Belam seemed not to recognise Omen for what he was. Belam then looked at Mari. “And Mari returns with me. Though Father wants the rest of you, I know the trouble it would cause, even if he refuses to admit it. So, for all I care you can leave here unharmed.”

  “And if we are tiresome about the whole affair and refuse?” Bensaharēn had not risen from his knees, or even opened his eyes. Belam loo
ked at the old man.

  “It will end quite badly, Poet Master.”

  “But for you first, I think.” Bensaharēn finally opened his eyes and smiled. Belam took a step back and reached for Tragedy.

  “I accept your terms,” Roshana said quickly. She looked at Nazarafine, who nodded even as she flushed in shame. Siamak stepped away from the other rahns, his face like stone. Roshana looked imploringly at the huge man, though he would not see her. The Rahn-Näsarat said to Belam, “You promise safe passage for us?”

  “I promise you’ll leave this heap of rocks alive. How you fare once you’ve gone from here is another question. Live. Die. I don’t much care. Just know, Roshana, my father will have such vengeance as to make you wish I’d ended you here. I’m doing you no favours by letting you go. Think of it more as a head start.”

  Belam turned to face Mari. He took a hesitant step. Raised a hand shyly, which seemed to not know what to do with itself before finding comfort once again by Belam’s side. “Mari? Father won’t hurt you. He’s angry, but he’ll cool down. I need you to come with me. It will save the lives of your friends and perhaps your presence can be a calming influence on Father. He’s surrounded himself with… people of questionable character. But first, where’s Indris? He and I have business I’d settle.”

  “He’s not here.” Mari took a step back from her brother, who looked pained at the gesture. She hunched down, chilled more by the thought of returning to her father, than she was by the wind. “And what do you—?”

  “Then where in Erebus’s shadow is he?” Belam growled, reaching for her but stopping as she moved another step away.

  “He never left Avānweh. He’s with the Sēq, as far as I know.”

  Belam swore profusely as he walked to the edge of the platform, angrily kicking sand over the side. He gestured to his soldiers and a goodly number of them started to climb the stairs. Belam turned towards her, eyes haunted. “It makes no matter. He’ll come to find you, I’m sure. This just delays the inevitable.”

  Roshana came to Siamak’s side and started speaking with him urgently. Nazarafine joined her. They spoke for a long while before Siamak gave a great sigh, then nodded. The three rahns took to the stairs without looking back. Danyūn and Mauntro picked up the groaning, feebly struggling Navid between them and carried him off. Looks like he won’t have an end worthy of remembering after all, Mari thought. Bensaharēn was the last to leave.

  “I am proud of you Mari, as if you were my own daughter,” he said, holding her tight. “Remember what I taught you about there being times for everything? This is the time for patience.”

  “I didn’t agree to return to my Father.” Mari tensed in her old teacher’s arms. “I don’t… I don’t even know who my Father is anymore.”

  “But what of the lives of these others?” Bensaharēn said gently. “A warrior-poet fights, we sacrifice, so others don’t have to. You know what you must do. Besides, the girl, Vahineh, will need you. Patience, Mari. The world reveals to us the time to act.”

  “I understand.” Mari did not want to let the old man go. When he left the circle of her arms, the warmth of him was whistled away too quickly by the cold wind.

  Shar, Hayden, and Ekko approached Mari. The three said nothing, simply stood in her orbit. She smiled at them. “Today is the day we count ourselves lucky to survive.”

  “Indris always jokes about times like this,” Shar whispered into Mari’s ear as she held her hand. “He says, It’s less about winning than being able to walk away afterwards.”

  “And you need to walk away and find him for me,” Mari whispered back. “I’ll be waiting for him. But not too long. He’ll regret it if I have to come looking for him because he kept me waiting.”

  “We’ll tell him, young miss.” Hayden said, his lips grazing her forehead as he pulled her down for a farewell kiss. “Figure we’ll get the Wanderer back in the air where she belongs, get Indris, then come looking for you. That’s if it aint too much trouble for you to wait a bit.”

  “Only for a bit.” She smiled warmly at the group that had become her friends. “I’ll keep a light on.”

  And with that they walked back to the other side of the platform, toward Omen and Vahineh.

  Belam kept the distance between them. “Thank you for doing the right thing, Mari. I know your hearts, sweet sister. The same as I know my own. Neither of us would willingly endanger the ones we care for. It’s why I made the offer in the first place. But you’ve said goodbye to your friends, Mari. It’s time we were going.”

  Several Anlūki reached the platform, along with as many Marble Sea corsairs in their mismatched armour and finery. There was an attractive, rangy woman with them whose hungry gaze settled on Belam, before she looked at Mari. Pinpoints of metal gleamed at her fingers and earlobes. There was a small chip of diamond on her brow and gems plaited into her dark hair. She stood with the casual grace of a seasoned killer. The woman started barking orders in dayeshi, the patois of nahdi and pirates. So, you are Tahj-Shaheh, the great reaver who now serves my father. I’ll remember you, pretty lady. If my father relies on you, it’s really best I plant you in ashes.

  The corsairs were looking at Shar and laughing amongst themselves, while eyeing Ekko with trepidation. Hayden looked miserable, his hands clenching and unclenching around his storm-rifle.

  Four of the Anlūki went to take Vahineh from behind Omen…

  And that is when things went wrong.

  Mari was stunned by Omen’s sudden burst of activity.

  “Omen!” she yelled. “No!”

  He had kicked one of the Anlūki square in the stones. The man gasped, face red, then stumbled back with his hands to his groin. One step too far and then he was gone, screaming as he fell into the pit.

  Omen drew his blade and cut the throat of another. On the back swing he hacked the jaw off another Anlūki who fell in a gout of blood, clutching uselessly at part of his face no longer there.

  Hayden shot the last Anlūki in the head.

  “Kill them all!” somebody screamed.

  Vahineh cowered behind Omen as more soldiers advanced. Hayden was an automaton, aiming and firing, aiming and firing, every shot killing its target. More soldiers bustled on to the platform.

  “Keep Mari and Vahineh alive!” Belamandris yelled. The Widowmaker was quick as a cat, using the statues as cover from Hayden as he circled around to engage Omen. Bolts rang from the granite statues as the old drover tried to bring the Widowmaker down, without success.

  Trusting in her friends, Mari chased her brother. She spared a glance for where Ekko and Shar wove a deadly net of serill and steel. The powerful lion-man’s roar was deafening, causing his enemies to quail. Shar sang her war chants, her voice seeming to send despondency and fear into those she fought. The Tau-se and the Seethe reaped like farmers at harvest.

  Omen used his ceramic arm as both shield and a weapon. The enamel was scratched, chips of it flying, his fire-hardened and onyx-sheathed nails tearing through the soft-tissue of a corsair’s throat. All the while Vahineh looked on, screaming silently, saliva forming glistening bars between her slack lips, and her nails digging runnels in her cheeks.

  Mari used the sheath of her Sûnblade to trip her brother. Belam turned the fall into a roll, came up facing Mari and sent a warning stroke her way, which she skipped away from. The two eyed each other.

  “Don’t test me on this, Mari,” Belam said. “Your friends could’ve walked away and never seen us again. But no! The bloody Wraith Knight had to go and ruin it all. I felt a little sorry the first time, when I burned his body down. This time I think I’m going to enjoy putting a permanent end to the filthy Nomad.”

  “I don’t want to fight you, big brother.”

  “And I don’t want to fight you, either.”

  “Then we’re at an impasse.”

  “Not so much.”

  Mari saw the warning flicker in Belam’s eyes and threw herself sideways. Sheathed swords clubbed the air where
she had stood. Mari swore, then turned to face the handful of soldiers who tried to subdue her.

  More and more soldiers came for her, until it was all she could do to dodge, duck and weave through the complex net of blunt weapons that tried to hit her. Her vision was filled with frenetic activity, set against the tattered banners of sand-filled wind. Moonlight shone from armour. Eyes and wide-open mouths made hollow pools of darkness. Teeth became darkened with blood. The clamour of battle was a deafening counterpoint to the fluting wind. She hammered her fist into a man’s face. Lips split and teeth came free. A corsair took a blow from her elbow across his unarmoured collarbone, snapping it. Another she kicked in the groin, then kneed in the face, sending he and the two he grabbed screaming on their journey to the bottom of the pit.

  She took a pummelling as the minutes wore on. A cut opened up over her eye, another at the corner of her lip and across one cheek. Somebody had stamped on her foot and she suspected at least one of her fingers was broken. Mari felt the familiar burn of fatigue and knew time was against her.

  From the corner of her eye she saw Ekko and Shar in the fray. Both were spattered with gore, their weapons slick. Hayden’s face was florid, his lips slack and trembling. The man was wheezing and looked barely strong enough to lift his storm-rifle.

  Belam aimed a whistling cut at Omen, who caught the blade in his hand and twisted it down. The small finger of his hand flew away. Omen stabbed at Belam, who in turn bent at the waist and the Wraith Knight’s shamshir skidded across the ruby scales of Belam’s armour. Belam twisted and disengaged, Omen following.