The Seedbearing Prince: Part I

by DaVaun Sanders

  Dayn backed away scowling, but held his tongue.

  A high-pitched whine flooded the Detritus Chamber. The lone Initiate motioned at the other hallway in a rapid series of hand signals. The sound increased, then cut out completely. The entire chamber began to rotate, picking up speed, except for a few stationary bands that circled the interior. Scattered rock began to slide past the Initiate's steady stance. A burst of light shone from the distant end of the Detritus Chamber.

  “Now you will see a glimpse of the torrent for yourself,” Eriya said.

  The Initiate crouched low like a loaded spring. Fragments of tumbling rock began to shoot down the length of the chamber as if carried along by a powerful wind. Small debris pinged off of his armor in brief flashes of light. “Hey, he’s wearing barrel sealer!” Dayn exclaimed.

  “It’s called sheath,” Eriya corrected. “How do you know of it?”

  “The Consorts use it to preserve Shard’s gift for the Belt. Or something like it, anyway.” Dayn shrugged.

  More rock filled the air, sparking where it struck the sides of the Detritus Chamber, which continued spinning faster. Larger boulders sailed toward the Initiate with frightening speed. He avoided them easily, contorting his body and sidestepping to dodge direct strikes.

  “I knew it would be fast,” Dayn breathed. The Ringman maneuvered with astonishing agility, still holding his wingline at the ready.

  “This is a shadow of the true torrent.” Eriya folded her arms, watching quietly while the Initiate slipped through oncoming boulders as though his bones were made of water. “There’s no sure air to breathe, nor steady ground under your feet. Gerrit is a blustery one. He’s earned his armor, but I will earn my sword before him.” Eriya glanced at Dayn's spellbound expression and laughed softly under her breath. “The Lord Ascendant would personally thrash the whole lot of them if this were known. Watch.”

  Eriya's brown eyes flitted toward the distant source of debris. A boulder flashed down the chamber, large as a barn and howling through the intervening air. The Initiate did not move from its path. Across the chamber his fellows pressed close to the crystal. Gerrit took two light steps, and leaped straight into the oncoming collision.

  Dayn leaned forward, forgetting Eriya's admonishment. Seconds from being crushed, Gerrit crossed his forearms and raised his knees, so his limbs formed a protective wall before him. A flash of light pierced the chamber as he slammed into the boulder.

  Brilliant white cracks splayed across the boulder's surface. In the next instant it exploded, pelting the gauntlet walls with dust, sparks and fragments. A hot, caustic smell reached Dayn's nose.

  The chamber’s spinning immediately began to slow. On the far side, the other Initiates raised their fists high or pounded on the crystal. The straw-haired Initiate rose slowly from the destroyed core of the boulder, for one moment the very picture of unyielding might. Gerrit was covered in dust, but unharmed.

  “I’d never get hurt again with sheath on,” Dayn whispered. The Initiate began to pick his way out of the pulverized rock. The scene struck him oddly, to see the Ringman walking so carefully after such an inhuman feat.

  “Blight take his eyes,” Eriya muttered, staring into the chamber. Gerrit dusted himself off slowly, but his mask fixed right on them.

  “It's dark in here yet. He hasn't seen us.” They began to creep away from the crystal. The Initiate peered at them, tilting his head to one side like a bird. Dayn could not tell if he looked angry or alarmed.

  “Surely, Shardian. Time to go!”

  Eriya shoved Dayn through the large double doors toward the nearest ramp. They bounded for five floors straight up without stopping. Only then they paused, straining to hear above the sound of their panting.

  “Maybe they were more afraid of trouble than us,” Eriya said, allowing herself a grin.

  “Seeing that was worth the chase. Thank you, Eriya. I’ll probably never get the chance again.” She looked away, and his smile faltered. “Can someone really survive an impact like that in the torrent?”

  “Yes, but only as a last option. A courser struck by something that large deserves to be flogged with their own wingline.” Eriya set off around another corner. “There are limits to sheath. It will fume away from your armor in a few hours if you do not apply more. If you strike something too large or too slow, your sheath will fail. Strike too fast, you will boil in your own skin.”

  “And too slow?”

  “Sheath will not keep a dagger from sliding between your ribs.”

  Dayn's stomach twisted at the thought. The sealer back in the Dreadfall that saved his life might just as easily have killed him if things went any differently. His ignorance could have cost him his life. “There’s so much I don't know,” he muttered. “How will I ever catch up?”

  “Most of the Beltbound know nothing of sheath,” Eriya offered. “It’s surprising that you do. Coursing is one of the old ways, from the days before the first Defenders found the Ring’s transports. Are you so in love with danger, Shardian? Rock pummeling you senseless; moving faster than you can see coming? I cannot imagine a worse way to meet my end.” She shook her head. “Perhaps I'll be able to show you something new. Unless you want to go to your room now?”

  Dayn shook his head. “Lead the way. I'd rather see as much as I can before I go back home.”

  They did not walk nearly so far, but Eriya lacked her former confidence. He soon saw why. She approached doors similar to the Detritus Chamber's observation hall, but this time, two bleary-eyed guards stood before them. They wore long, dark blue overcoats that fell past their knees like robes, and no armor. They could be Initiates like Eriya, but lacked her dangerous grace.

  The first peered at them with a permanently sour expression, a hefty, pale-hued man with thinning brown hair. The second sported close-cropped black hair, and looked as though he could fall asleep on his feet at any given moment. His dull gray eyes contrasted with his bronze complexion. They stiffened at Eriya's approach.

  “No entrance to the Aviary,” the hefty guard said roughly. “Especially Beltbound.” They both eyed Dayn suspiciously, taking in his packs and staff. Eriya held up her hands as if to placate them, but the guards set their jaws stubbornly.

  “Orders of Adrian herself,” the gray-eyed guard added, not unkindly. “Sorry, Initiate.”

  “I'm under direct orders from the Lord Ascendant to guide this Shardian through the Ring,” Eriya replied calmly. She gave each man a hard look, and spoke with new authority. The two could not be Defenders of any rank. “He’s to be given the highest guestright.”

  “Peace bind my bones, do we look like such great fools? We let you bring in lamb gobbets all the time, Initiate! Would you see us flogged for―”

  “The highest guestright,” she repeated. A harried look shone in the second guard's gray eyes. He appeared on the verge of relenting until his fellow interjected smoothly.

  “Force Captain Adrian must be notified.” His lip curled in smug triumph. “If you remain here...”

  “We will return another time,” Eriya said, but she flashed her teeth at the guard. “When we do, I'll ask Adrian herself for you to help us feed them.”

  “Feed what?” Dayn asked. An otherworldly shriek pierced the door, and Dayn almost leaped out of his boots. A look of pure misery assailed the guards' faces. Peace, this Dervishi might be as crazy as the stories say! Dayn thought. The Ring could keep monsters from the torrent under lock and key for all he knew.

  “Look what you've done now, Blen!” The gray-eyed man complained. Sweat appeared on his brow.

  “Only this once Dervishi, alright?” The hefty man shifted nervously, revealing a sling on his right arm, bandaged and hidden under his overcoat. Blen was all smiles now. “Guestright for your friend, we understand that.”

  Dayn spoke quickly. “You know, I haven’t eaten myself for the whole day now. Does guestright get me breakfast, too?”

  Eriya stopped short of the door, her triumphant look fading as u
tter mortification spread over her face. She turned promptly on her heel, leaving behind both fear-stricken guards.

  “That Preceptor! You would have wasted away in his study forever if I were not sent for you.” She gave a disgusted snort. “Let's get some food in you, and I'm sure you'll want to clean up after. We’ll come here some other time.”

  The gray-eyed man mouthed a silent thank you to Dayn as they walked off. Gratitude show immensely in Blen's eyes as well.

  “Peace keep you both,” he called. Eriya snorted again. She brushed her temple unconsciously, as if to push back errant braids, though her ponytail still held her hair in place. Dayn managed a wave to the men before he rounded a corner and they were gone.

  They soon came to a sprawling hall full of stone tables, interspersed around columns that spilled from the rough ceiling in places like stony teeth. Dozens of servants pushed carts filled with enough steaming trays of food for a whole festival. There were few people around at this hour, so a man with a cart trundled over just as soon as they sat down.

  Eriya watched in amusement as Dayn set to shoveling steaming seasoned potatoes in his mouth, taking pauses only to wash it down with hot tea. His insides gurgled in contentment.

  “I suppose a Shardian has never tasted a day of hunger,” she said. Dayn’s cheeks heated in embarrassment, and he looked forlornly at his plate. The Initiate laughed out loud. “Your face! I only meant to tease you Shardian, be easy.”

  “You’re right, though. I've never known famine. No one I know has. Have you?”

  “Thankfully not, and peace keep it so. Shard’s Pledge fed my parents for two seasons though, when I was too young to remember. A fire destroyed my clan's food stores. I would be a runt without the Pledge, or worse.” Eriya nodded at the scattered remains on Dayn's plate. “Those are likely from Shard, too.”

  “Yes, they are.” Dayn bit into the brown skin of the potato, and let the flavor settle on his tongue. “These were harvested seven seasons ago. The Highlands, by Northforte.” He chewed thoughtfully, not noticing Eriya's eyes on him. Another servant with a cart full of plates stopped to clear their table. “I remember my father saying how the farmers threw dewberries into the compost before that season, and what a waste it was that the Trade Council didn't have enough sealed barrels on hand.”

  He picked up a last bit from Eriya's plate and popped it in his mouth before the servant took it away. She had barely touched her food. “A farmer with a rusty spade hit this one when it was early.”

  “How do you know all of that?” Eriya stared at him with open disbelief. The servant looked at the leavings on his cart as though ready to challenge Dayn on their origins, too.

  The food lost its savor. What have I been saying? That was only my first season helping father in the fields. The wasted dewberry pickings were a shadow of a memory, something he once overheard some Elders talking about. His impression about the spade was impossible, but he knew it for true.

  “I don't know,” he said.

  “Are you to become a Preceptor?” The servant blurted out. Both Ringman’s eyes were on Dayn as he floundered for a response.

  “He is Shardian,” Eriya said, as if that settled the matter. She shook her head in wonder, placing her cup on the servant's cart.

  The servant nodded knowingly. “Why, I should have realized. A thousand blessings on your family, young master.” The servant bowed deeply and departed. Dayn stared after him.

  “What was that about?”

  “He is Aran,” Eriya explained.

  “Do they talk to everyone like that? Like I’m some Highland Elder?”

  “They do not.” Eriya sighed. “Peace surely set me in your path, Shardian. Ara has suffered drought since before either of us were born. The world would hold no people without the Pledge. If you knew a tenth of the Belt what you did about your breakfast, you would be―”

  “By Tu'um's shadow, there you are!” Five Ringmen appeared around their table, all dressed in the same Initiate black as Eriya.

  “I'm glad an Attendant tipped us that you might be here, or we would be hours yet searching you out.” One spoke in a reproving tone as Eriya looked at him flatly. “This is why you were pulled from bed? Who is he?” Curious stares abounded as they took in Dayn's clothes and staff.

  “This is Dayn. Don’t look at him like that, he's no Montollos brat here to play-fight with us. Does he look like a Regent's son? We all know only one thing would divert the Ring to Shard.” Considering looks passed between the Initiates. “He’s here to...avenge his world. Don't ask anymore, because he's not allowed to say.”

  Surprised murmurs flitted throughout the group, and the Initiates looked at Dayn with sudden approval. Several hands were thrust toward him at once.

  “Well met,” the first Initiate said earnestly. A zealous light shone in his green eyes as he grasped Dayn's forearm. “I am Mabrac. From Quello.” He looked of an age with Joam, and might have been a close cousin if not for those eyes and olive complexion. Where Joam was exceptionally tall, Mabrac was incredibly wide, and his dark shirt bulged with hidden muscles. The Initiates were all surprisingly young, most looked near Dayn’s age.

  Mabrac turned back to Eriya. “So, is he coming with us?”

  “He’s to stand before the Veiled Throne.” Some of the Initiates shuddered in spite of themselves. “The Lord Ascendant bade me not to leave his side until he’s summoned.”

  Several of the Initiates groaned aloud, and Mabrac sighed. “I told you scatterwits she didn't know.”

  “What?”

  “Weaponmaster Seib summoned us. We've been looking for you all morning.”

  Eriya sprang to her feet with a wail. “Blight and fire!”

  At Dayn’s confused look, Mabrac explained. “We’re to have our martial forms tested, but no one thought Seib would choose us so soon. Our flash force is still undefeated.”

  “We’ll be the first Initiates to earn our swords this year,” another of the group put in, a slender girl with dusky skin and a striking smile.

  “He may bend to an order from the Veiled Throne.” Mabrac suggested, but he made a poor effort at sounding hopeful.

  “Or he might make the other flash force hold out their very best fighter.”

  “Or make us all spar weaponless for arriving incomplete,” another Initiate added unhappily. “We should go now, and prepare the best we can without her.”

  “I can just come with you,” Dayn offered. Eriya's sudden transformation astonished him, she looked close to tears. “I know about sparring, and I don't mind watching.”

  Several barely suppressed guffaws leaked from Eriya's flash force. Mabrac looked doubtfully at his staff. Dayn frowned. “I do know how to spar.”

  “Seib would have my hide,” Eriya said.

  “The Lord Ascendant would flail whatever was left,” Mabrac put in. “A contest may take all day, and there's no way to know when he'll be summoned.”

  “If Adrian were to find out...” Eriya trailed off, touching her temple wistfully.

  “Then just tell me where to find my quarters,” Dayn insisted. His last two hours were a jumble of nameless hallways in his head. He made his voice sound confident, although he would likely fare better in a redbranch thicket. “I'll wait there for the summons, or until you’re done with your contest.”

  Eriya lifted her head to gaze at him. “You’re sure?”

  “I'll find my way.”

  Something in Eriya's expression changed, quiet as a leaf falling from a tree, or a flutterbird finding rest on a branch. Though Dayn might never see her again, he knew he had at least one friend upon the Ring.

  “It’s not far from here,” she said. “Listen to me keenly. Take the hall over there with the Kemarahan grass above it, you see? Then turn to...”

  Eriya proceeded to issue a flurry of directions that made Dayn’s head spin. His memory served him well at first, until two more Initiates broke in with what they believed were certainly better routes. That started an argume
nt between Eriya and Mabrac, which grew loud enough to provoke a bark from a nearby Defender to quiet down.

  More Ringmen were trickling into the hall for breakfast. They looked at the gathering curiously, eyes immediately latching onto Dayn. Their stares made him feel like one of the pinned butterflies on Lurec's table. Eriya gave Dayn a searching look. “It's too much. I should ask an attendant to take him.” Dayn blinked. These servants are called attendants on the Ring? He found the coincidence odd, but supposed an Attendant on Shard was still a servant in the end.

  “So Lord Adazia finds out you left your escort?” Mabrac asked. “You'll never be a rider then.”

  “I'll be alright,” Dayn said reassuringly. “You better get moving.” I’ve no idea which way to go. I’m surprised they don’t see it on my face.

  The Initiates immediately peeled away, remarking on how good Dayn was to help her. Eriya trailed hesitantly in their wake, uncertainty and relief warring on her face.

  “Did I hear you use his name?” The only other girl among the Initiates cooed playfully. Her grin melted at Eriya's glower.

  “He spoke the same to me first! I...I was only being respectful. He knows nothing of Dervishi ways, and―”

  “He's handsome,” the first tittered. “Although he could stand a good scrubbing. Would you do your duty if that was part of guestright, Initiate? For the Ring?” Eriya gave her a dangerous look as the Initiates all disappeared down a hallway.

  Mabrac alone still lingered. “Whoever decided to put girls from Ista Cham and Dervish in the same flash force must be proud of the fine joke they’ve played on the rest of us. Peace keep you, until we meet again.” He grimaced, then hurried after them.

  The dining hall returned to silence. A handful of Defenders spoke together in quiet tones, and individual Preceptors sipped tea as they stared at little metal tablets, reading perhaps. A pang rose in Dayn's chest as loneliness settled upon him. For the first time since boarding the Ring, nothing arose to distract him from his own troubles. He gathered his belongings and set to finding his room.