What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  “Exactly. You’ve just proved you can’t. Disarmed by a cripple. All of Dulnato’s men trained in the Fortress before they became Greens, where training is more intense than in Raine Mansion. Their training has escalated under Drakasi, and several have died.”

  Bowe wasn’t surprised, remembering Vitarr’s treatment at Drakasi and Dulnato’s hands. “The fact that a few are dead helps us, at least. How many are left?”

  “Seven, including Dulnato,” Sorrin said.

  “That will give them the advantage. I still think you need me—”

  “No. If you die, we all die. None of us have a chance of survival tomorrow without you. Protecting you is our number one priority. All they care about is killing you. If you’re there, they’ll all charge you, one of them will kill you, and it’ll be over.”

  Rather me than all the rest of you, Bowe thought. He didn’t want the death of anyone else on his hands. But Sorrin was right. He was the key to whatever small chance they had at survival. The last Bellanger.

  “We’ll do it your way,” Bowe said finally.

  * * *

  Trickles of sweat crept down his body; the waiting seemed to make the heat intensify. Bowe cursed himself once again for not changing out of his dark clothing when he’d had the chance. Not only did it increase the heat, it also made him a big blue target that no one could miss. But it was too late now; Xarcon had just reported that Dulnato’s men were close. Bowe clutched the railing on the landing. Below him waited Thrace, Sorrin, and the six escay marshals. Nechil stood beside Bowe. Sorrin had wanted Nechil down in the hall, but Nechil had refused, insisting on staying with Bowe. Bowe glanced at the boy beside him. He didn’t seem nervous, just watchful. Bowe would have given a lot to have that composure right now as he clenched on the railing.

  Bowe thought of Oamir. He’d been set up in one of the upper floor rooms with the ledgers that Bowe had asked him to fill out. And no one had remembered him when they’d discovered Dulnato was attacking. Just as well, Bowe thought, he was unlikely to be much good in a fight. Best to leave him alone with his studying and writing.

  The main door had been left open. Sorrin wanted Dulnato to attack head-on, and figured that leaving the door open was a challenge of sorts. The door faced out toward the setting Helion. Rays of purple light flooded through the open door, though their intensity had diminished in the last few minutes. Sorrin must have been thinking the same thing; at that moment, he limped through the door. He held out his hands. “What are you waiting for? Nothing but a few cripples and escay here. Come at us!” Sorrin yelled. He clearly wanted them to attack while there was still enough light for the bows of Xarcon and Sindar to be of use.

  There was a roar from outside, and a gallop of running feet. Bowe’s hand clutched his throat, afraid that Sorrin would be caught out on his own. Sorrin scrambled back away from the door, but his limp slowed him down. Dulnato’s Defenders charged the entrance, almost getting in each other’s way in their pursuit of Sorrin. There was a whirring sound, then another, followed by a shout. An arrow sprouted from the shoulder of the lead Defender, but he snapped the shaft off and kept coming.

  The arrows delayed his pursuers enough for Sorrin to make it back to Thrace and the marshals ahead of his pursuers. An instant later, the whole hall descended into a melee of fighting. Dulnato wasn’t there; only five of his men were attacking. Where were Dulnato and his other Defender? Nechil had obviously had the same thought, because he was scanning the landing, looking for further attackers. They had Xarcon and Sorrin on the roof to alert them and Helion still hadn’t fully set, so there was enough light to see. That would have to be enough.

  Below, although outnumbered, Dulnato’s men were having the best of it. Thrace was the only one who seemed evenly matched to his opponent. Clain had driven Sorrin into a corner, and he was struggling. The five escay marshals stood against the other three, but even then the escay were clearly at a disadvantage. Dulnato’s men were faster, stronger, and much more skilled. Moments later, even the numerical advantage disappeared. Almost simultaneously, one of the escay was run through the chest while another’s throat was cut. Both fell, bleeding, to the floor. The remaining three marshals backed away, fear in their eyes.

  Bowe could see what would happen next as clearly as if he were considering Harmony moves. Those three would fall quickly and all five men would attack Thrace and Sorrin together. There were possibly only moments until all seven of Bowe’s men would be dead. Bowe had to do something. He jumped up and ran down the stairs.

  “Stop!” Nechil reached out to grab him, but Bowe was already gone.

  “It’s me you want,” Bowe screeched, grabbing the bannister with one hand and leaping down three steps at a time.

  Bowe was a few steps from the bottom when he stopped suddenly. He had attracted more attention than he’d intended. All five of Dulnato’s men had disengaged from their opponents and now stared at him. They all looked at each other, and then charged blindly at the stairs. At him. Helion in a rickshaw! Bowe began to scramble backward, but he seemed to have lost all coordination.

  “Bowe, your sword!” Sorrin shouted and Bowe realized that, in his rush, he hadn’t even drawn his weapon. He reached for his hilt, but only had time to watch as Clain’s blade crashed down at him. A sword appeared above Bowe’s head, blocking Clain’s, and then a leg kicked Clain in the chest. Clain stumbled back against his men and was shoved aside. He crashed through the bannister, falling back down to the ground floor. Behind him, another of Dulnato’s Defenders swung at Bowe. The sword appeared above Bowe’s head, again blocking the Defender’s swing. Bowe thought for one crazy moment that mystical forces were fighting Dulnato’s men to save him.

  “Get back!” Nechil grabbed the back of Bowe’s shirt and pulled as he struck out at the Defenders below. Ah, Nechil saved me. That made sense. Bowe managed to get his legs to work well enough to allow him to scuttle up a few steps. Nechil stepped between him and Dulnato’s men. Below in the hall, Sorrin had stabbed Clain before he’d had a chance to recover from his fall. On the stairs, Dulnato’s men were now a single ball of legs, arms, torsos, swords, and screams. One of them had fallen back into the other three, and now they fought to regain their footing, fighting each other as much as their opponents. Thrace and the marshals now attacked them from behind while Nechil stood above them and prevented them from getting up.

  Their screams and struggles lingered for a while longer, but they all died before fully regaining their feet. Red rivulets trickled down the stairs, pooling below the bottom step. Bowe and Nechil jumped through the gap in the balcony to avoid the blockage of bodies on the stairs. Blood was smeared all over the faces of Thrace and the three remaining marshals, and no one’s clothes were without at least several large stains. Bowe rubbed at the wet purplish stains on his own clothes. He felt strangely blank, as if two opposing emotions canceled each other out. He knew he should feel euphoric for winning, for still being alive. But the room stank of death.

  Xarcon came in the front door, holding his bow loosely in his fingers. “You did it.” He said it like he was saying that the sun didn’t rise in the mornings anymore. “How?”

  “Killing Bowe meant being chosen as Dulnato’s chief Defender,” Sorrin said. “They virtually fought each other in the end to try and kill him. Once Nechil stopped their rush on the stairs, we were able to pick them off.”

  “What about Dulnato and the other?” Nechil asked Xarcon.

  “One tried to creep in the back, but he ran off when we shot a few arrows at him. Dulnato was watching from the street, but he left once the battle turned bad.”

  “Which way did he go?” Nechil asked, gripping Xarcon’s sleeve. Xarcon pointed down the street and Nechil ran off in that direction.

  “I guess his main task was to kill Dulnato, not to save you,” Sorrin said.

  “Yet he still saved me. He didn’t have to come down the stairs when I—”

  “When you charged down like a lunatic.” Sorrin raised
his eyebrows at Bowe. “Without so much as drawing your sword. I don’t remember that being in our plan to keep you safe.”

  “Improvisation is sometimes called for, even in the best laid plans.” Bowe walked over to the corpses of the two marshals. Another two to add to those who had died on his account. Chalori, Vitarr, Edison, Glil. And he’d never even talked to these two. “What were their names?”

  “Raef and Fern.”

  They looked so young, even though they were only a year or two older than Bowe. They both had blond hair. One had blue eyes; the other’s eyes had been splattered with blood, so Bowe couldn’t make out the color. Bowe clenched his eyes shut, then opened them again. He had to be strong. He couldn’t break down over the death of a couple of escay. “Can someone see that their loved ones know what happened? And make sure they get a place on a funeral barge.” Bowe was glad his voice was firm.

  “This is the last day—they don’t always have room for more corpses on the barges,” Xarcon said. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

  Bowe straightened his back and puffed out his chest. “Now, for the next task. Hopefully they won’t mind a few bloodstains in the ballroom at Raine Mansion, because I’ve got a Harmony match to play.”

  * * *

  Bowe leaned back in the rickshaw, letting the rumbling of the wheels and the steady movements wash over him. He had to stop himself from falling asleep. He knew he should be planning his ascorim moves for the hours ahead, but he couldn’t concentrate. At least he had a plan for what he wanted to happen on the Harmony board today.

  The rickshaw stopped suddenly, and Bowe’s head jerked forward. Had he actually fallen asleep? “We’ve arrived,” a voice said.

  “Thank you.” Bowe pulled back the curtain and stepped out. First time back at Raine Mansion since the start of the Green Path, he thought. Helion had set and Luna wasn’t in sight, but the walls and four towers of the mansion were outlined by numerous flickering torches.

  Turning back to the rickshaw, he noticed for the first time that it displayed the azure Bellanger sun on the outside of the curtain. The two rickshaw pullers had been another surprise earlier. Xarcon had recruited a couple young men to fulfill the task with the usual promise of salvation. How many now relied upon Bowe to save them? Based on hopes and wishes, and faith in Bowe.

  “You okay?” Thrace asked. He and another marshal had marched behind the rickshaw. They looked tired, but Bowe hadn’t been able to convince them not to come.

  “Fine.” Bowe shook his head, trying to shake the tiredness from his mind. He couldn’t allow himself to be any less than his strongest now. “Find somewhere to sit and rest.” He turned and entered Raine Mansion, nodding to the marshals who guarded the entrance.

  He blinked several times after walking into the ballroom; the light was dazzling. A multitude of lamps hung from the ceiling, and additional torches were bracketed to the walls.

  Bowe stood at the entrance for a moment and waited. First, those closest saw him; then they whispered to those beside them, and the news of his arrival spread outwards in a wave until all gazes had turned toward him. A hush descended upon the crowd.

  “Sorry about the bloodstains.” Bowe brushed dust from his tunic. “The Green Path isn’t always as bloodless as I would like.” He strode into the heart of the crowd and a corridor opened for him.

  In the center of the room, a decorative Harmony board had been set up. A large chair—almost a throne—had been placed in front of the silver pieces. Bowe stood in front of the blue pieces. “Shall we begin?” he asked.

  Stenesso detached himself from a group of Grenier ascor and moved to the board. “We would have started earlier if you’d been here.” He was a tall man, and his head seemed bigger than it should have with his large forehead, the thick ridges over his eyes, and his wide, flat nose. His hair was black and shoulder length. Like many other Grenier marshals, he wore a large sword strapped to his waist.

  “Unavoidably detained.” Bowe rubbed at a bloodstain on his sleeve. “I wish I could have arrived on time and in pristine condition.” The rest of the crowd returned to their conversations. A space between the Harmony board and everyone else meant that Bowe’s conversation with the Guardians was private.

  A man stepped up to the board; he looked so much like Eolnar that Bowe knew him to be Sorani even before he came to stand in front of the green pieces. The main difference from his brother was his hair; it was longer: thick and curly. He reached his arm out across the board. “We haven’t met before. Nice to finally meet you, Bowe Bellanger.”

  “And you, Sorani Lessard.” Bowe clasped his arm.

  “Enough of this Bellanger stuff,” Stenesso said. “He’s a Green, remember? Gives up his family name until he’s selected. Then he adopts that family.”

  “This seems to be a rather unique case,” Sorani said. “I hear that he’s reopened the ballroom in Bellanger Mansion and sits on a throne with the Bellanger flag flanking him. And he arrived like royalty tonight in a rickshaw with Bellanger-uniformed marshals guarding him. Hardly your average Green.”

  “Word travels quickly.” Bowe wondered how Sorani knew all that already.

  “I had not heard,” Stenesso said. “Perhaps we should reconsider our decision.”

  “Perhaps it is too late for that,” said another voice, “now that Dulnato has failed so badly.” Bowe turned to see Kesirran tottering toward them, leaning heavily on a cane. “If you’ll allow an old man this comfort,” he said as he sat on the chair in front of the silver pieces, “we can begin.”

  They began to play.

  “What decision do you mean?” Bowe asked after a moment.

  “Our choice for selection. Zidel, the White Spider, and you.”

  “Provided,” Stenesso broke in, “that you prove your Harmony skills by not losing in this match.”

  Bowe’s heart beat faster. He’d been selected. Even though he knew his position on the lists and Dulnato’s failed attack made him a favorite, only hearing it from the lips of the Guardians made it real. Bowe now had a decision to make. “Have I not already proved my Harmony skills by getting here?”

  “We looked at the record of your last game.” Stenesso advanced a scarlet Harmony piece. “Very clever, but crude. I’m not sure you understand how your game looks to us, who have played Harmony for so many more years than you. Imagine a dance competition: there are a number of ways to win. You could bludgeon the other dancers so they can’t compete, or you could dance better than them. You bludgeoned.”

  Rubbish, thought Bowe, I played within the rules. A tactic wasn’t ugly just because it was new. “And if I don’t accept selection?” Bowe asked.

  Stenesso laughed. “Why would anyone not accept selection? What would you do instead? Die?”

  “Will you allow me to bring all my followers into the Refuge? I promised I would not enter without all of them.”

  “An interesting tactic,” Stenesso mused. “So there is no infighting among your Defenders? They believed you?”

  “I was serious.”

  Stenesso smiled. “Serious or not, that’s not how the Green Path works. If we let you do that, all the Selects would be demanding extra Defenders, and we’d soon be awash with ascor. There’s not enough room in the Refuge.”

  “There must be some extra room with the demise of the Bellangers only twelve years ago,” Bowe said.

  “That space will be filled in a natural way. Each of the families will expand as their power dictates. You get to choose one Defender, just like Zidel and the White Spider.”

  Bowe had known he’d be refused, but he’d had to ask all the same. He looked down at the board. Everyone had made standard opening moves so far, and he was confident he could play well enough to draw. He could be become the Select. He could choose one person to be his chief Defender and move on. There would be no one to hold it against him after the Infernam.

  Or could he give up selection and his guaranteed survival for a chance to save more than just one oth
er person. Bowe scanned the ballroom and noticed Zofila. Beside her, Alandar clutched her arm tightly. Bowe noticed the sadness and resignation in her eyes. No, he couldn’t just accept selection and let everyone else die. He remembered Vitarr on the funeral barge. Edison, Tlirris, Glil, Reyanu—everyone killed by the Path. He wasn’t going to continue walking along it and let the other Deadbeats die. Nor the escay who had risked their lives because of his promise, two of whom had died just hours ago to save him.

  Bringing his attention back to the Harmony board, he chose his strategy. He launched a double-pronged attack against the two players on either side of him, Kesirran and Sorani. An all-out attack. No thought to defense; no thought to survival. He made his first move to that end and watched additional wrinkles form on the brow of each of his opponents as they bent to study the board.

  “Stenesso, you mentioned about the excess room in the Refuge being filled as each family gains power,” Bowe said. “Is that why the Grenier family has promoted so many new ascor recently?”

  Stenesso’s eyes narrowed. “Your selection isn’t confirmed yet. I’d worry more about your position on the Harmony board and less about internal Grenier matters.”

  Bowe could sense the anger under the surface of the Grenier Guardian’s words and smiled to himself. He allowed a few rounds of moves to unfold before speaking again. This time, he addressed Sorani. “The game Harmony—it’s unique to Arcandis, isn’t it?”

  Sorani nodded. “As far as we know. There are some similar games in other countries.”

  “It’s a curious name. Do you know where it comes from?”

  This time, Kesirran replied. “It speaks of the way in which all four sides can maintain equality in a well played game. Each player plays only to advance himself. But once a balance is maintained, all four players can harmoniously prosper.” His mouth twisted into a smile. “From how you play, that seems to be something you don’t understand about the game.”

  “Oh, I understand. I’m just not sure the rest of you do.” There was no harmony on the board today—only chaos. Bowe’s pieces were entangled with Sorani’s and Kesirran’s. Because he was fighting two opponents, he wouldn’t last much longer. Stenesso was untouched, and taking control of large areas of the board.