by Paul Heisel
“I want you to tell everyone including my father that you’re sending me back to Safun. I need everyone to believe that I’m gone. I’ll need to get funds from Emato; he must have a family cache that he can access. I’ll need money. There will be items delivered here in your name, either you or Emato will have to vouch for them. No matter what I send, keep it here in our tent. If there are instructions with the delivery, comply with them.”
Suun handed over her weapons, the two Dragonfly swords that were kin to Feln’s blade. An array of knives came out, and she kept one for herself. “Keep these here in the tent, where I can access them. I may need them, you never know.”
“They’ll be waiting.”
“You may or may not see me. But I’ll be here.”
“I understand. I won’t look for you.”
They went their separate ways, Suun heading to Emato and Feln went to spread the word that he was sending Suun back to Safun. He was thinking of reasons to send her back, then decided he was the Most Favored and didn’t need to explain his decisions. He took the weapons and set them aside, spoke to everyone around him about Suun, and took a walk outside where it was colder. The frigid weather made him feel alive and it woke him up. He felt like he was accomplishing something. Pearl was off to make sure Caleth and Nar would succeed – or at the least they wouldn’t fail because of lack of security – and Suun was off doing shades knows what. Obviously she had a plan and he would be astounded if he figured out what she was going to do. He was outside of the tents, away from the lights and the celebration, lingering in the near darkness with his thoughts. His fate worried him. It was left up to an ancient rite that he didn’t understand, nor had anyone adequately explained what was going to happen next. The histories of the Warlords that he read told little about the Crypt of Warlords and the magic surrounding it.
A flash of red and black came at him, and before he could react, Owori had him wrapped up in her arms. Warmth returned to his body from the embrace and he held her for a long time. She nuzzled against his neck.
“I missed you too,” Feln said.
“Things are more complex than I thought,” Owori said.
“What’s more complex?”
“There are thirty-two candidates total, families have multiple people represented, and there are only two from Safun and two from Daiwer-dar. The other five families have twenty-eight total. When they match tiles tonight, we’ll understand how this will progress. It’s a tournament on a larger scale than I would have thought.”
“Caleth and Nar will do their best,” Feln said. It worried him there were so many candidates to contend with. Thirty-two?
“This is the problem, I guess. The contingent from Shisaru has eight total, two people that we know.”
“What? How can we know them?”
“Djaa and Gargam. They’re involved in this.”
As the initial shock wore off, Feln made a connection. Djaa sent the note saying ‘well met’, taunting him. He was in league with the Furies. Caleth said there were reports of magical activity in Tyilip, but Owori went to Bora to investigate Kara. Maybe Kara and Djaa were in this together – or what was more likely, Djaa was using Kara to keep the Accord of the Hand under control while he pursued his life here. Both Djaa and Gargam were accomplished fighters, far more advanced than Caleth in combat. Nar was incredibly talented and he was confident that he was as good as Djaa or Gargam with a blade. “What do you think of it?” Feln asked.
“I was told that Djaa and Gargam are Favored Ones of Shisaru, but I don’t believe they oversee anything important. If they’re helping the Furies, the Most Favored has to be part of the plan.”
“Suun is going to investigate the Furies. She’ll find the information that we need. If you see her, pretend you don’t know her. She said she would be around, but we wouldn’t see her. I presume she’ll be in a disguise.”
“Of course, what else?”
“Pearl is going to get assistance. I think my family needs more protection here. This celebration looks like it’s going to grow. Is this by invitation only?”
“To get inside here, yes, you have to have an invitation or be in the company of a Most Favored.”
“I need twenty invitations.”
“I’ll see what I can do. It may be difficult once all the nobles arrive. They will erect more pavilions around the area to accommodate the influx of people and the numbers they let in will be limited. This is the largest showing in the history of the ritual and they are being strict on the numbers. Tomorrow they will clear much of the land to the side to accommodate the flood of people. We’ve called in more troops to help.”
“So what’s happening tonight? This celebration? Tiles?” he asked.
“Tradition is that each family and their prospective Warlords celebrate their selections for this great honor. They will take the ceramic tiles and match the contestants into four groups, from those four groups, they will match the entrants so they can begin the tournament. In two days, the battles will begin.”
“So we get to watch them fight?”
“No, that’s the interesting aspect of this. See those two pillars,” she pointed to the large central tent where the seating was, “once the contests begin, the warriors are taken away to another location by magic, where no intervention from the outside can come. What Yuki told me is the spirits of the Warlords watch over the contest and they judge the victor. Once the fight is over, the combatants are sent back near the pillars. The loser goes home, the winner goes on to the next round until only one remains.”
“What do they take with them?”
“Nothing. Everything they need is provided by the spirits.”
A chill went through Feln. There were more dimensions to this than he thought. This was…different if not downright creepy. “Yuki said this will begin after sunset?”
“They will arrange the matches at that time. That’s all I know.”
The sun was disappearing from the horizon and soon it all would begin. With it came cold, and he pulled Owori closer to him and snaked his arm around her robe. He wasn’t sure how she was staying warm with such a thin red robe and skin tight body suit. It must be magic because she felt warmer than she should be.
“I suppose you have to go and protect the Emperor,” Feln said.
“I’ll watch the tiling ceremony with you. Then I’ll have to go back to the palace with the Emperor. You and I have a few more minutes together.”
A gong sounded, calling people to the central area. Feln walked forward and took Owori’s hand. Apparently she didn’t mind, or didn’t care, if anyone saw them together. Crowds came in waves as the champions were brought forward. They made their way ahead, pushing by people until they were in the front. Between the pillars there were tables and the administrators, their thick record books stacked. A smaller book was open. Lanterns gave bright light. An administrator stood up while the contestants filled in the area, and he addressed the crowd. He explained the thirty-two contestants were divided into four groups noted by their symbols on their ceramic tiles. Within those four groups, they would be paired off, the victors taking on each other until only one representative remained from the group. Single elimination.
The administrator began with the first group. He handed each contestant white robes and declared this group would be known as Winter. Feln saw Djaa among them, standing confident among his challengers. Nar stood near him in the Winter group, and Feln hoped Nar would prevail if they fought each other. Eight of them stood facing the crowd and they bowed as one. On their left breast red marks appeared, unfamiliar writing, dark as blood, brought forth by magic. The administrator arranged them, matching the combatants up. Pair by pair, they introduced themselves. Djaa was squared off against a lean, quick fighter from Ashimo. Nar was pitted against a surly looking man from Furawa. Their matches would begin in the morning in two days. The winner in this group would be declared the Master of Winter.
Feln and Owori looked at each other – the heads o
f their monasteries carried the same titles. Next group was designated Spring. Feln didn’t know anyone in this group. They wore green robes with white lettering. Summer, on the other hand, contained two people he knew. They wore yellow robes with red lettering. The hulking Gargam couldn’t close his robe – it was too small. He towered one full head higher than then next tallest man, and he was about as broad as two men. Feln doubted anyone would have a chance against Gargam, as he was the Accord of the Hand’s grand champion. In that group was Watahon, Hiru’s monkey from Emesia. Maybe those two would pummel each other to death. He could only hope.
The last group was Autumn, adorned in brown robes with white lettering. Caleth stood there and introduced himself in a calm even voice. Against him was a fighter from Furawa, who looked anxious and disinterested in the whole proceedings. As the last group departed the area between the pillars, there was a crackle of magic and thunder that shook the area. Amongst the yelps of surprise, the administrators called for calm. A golden circle appeared in the middle of the stone path, sinking into the pavers. The administrator announced the schedule again. The first day of contests would be followed by a day of rest, then the next round would take place and so forth, until they had declared the Masters of Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn. On the seventh day, the Master of Winter and Master of Spring would battle, and the Master of Summer and the Master of Autumn would do the same. On the ninth day, the final contest would take place and the new Warlord would be named. Once that happened, the Crypt of Warlords would close until a new Warlord was needed. The new Warlord, as was custom, would serve until death. The celebration began and cheers rang loud and clear. The Emperor’s servants brought in barrels of ale and wine that flowed freely. Owori gave Feln a hug and whispered that she had to go. Feln kissed her.
“Eleven days then,” he said.
“Do you think Caleth or Nar will succeed?”
“I hope so.”
“Anyone else but those two may send you to your grave,” Owori said. “I’m praying that doesn’t happen.”
“Me too.”
“The contests don’t start for two days, but I think the celebrations will continue all day and into the night on every day. If you attend, I’ll be able to see you.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
They said their goodbyes and Owori departed. Feln watched her as she went to the Emperor’s pavilion. She disappeared into the sea of people, lost to his vision. He turned and found Caleth and Nar there, waiting for him. They looked ready. “Thank you for your efforts,” Feln said. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“We haven’t done anything yet,” Caleth said. “This will be an interesting event.”
“You have a day to strategize. I suggest you find out all you can about your opponents.”
“That’s already happening,” Nar said. “Feln, have you seen Suun?”
“She’s gone,” he answered. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to see more of her, but she’s needed elsewhere. I’m sure you understand. I needed to send her back to Safun. There was an urgent matter that only she could attend to.”
“Of course,” he said. “I understand need.”
“You two get some rest, whatever you require you will have. Tomorrow we’ll have more protection in place to make sure none of the other families try to take advantage or influence the contests. Pearl will be in charge of your security. Tell me, where are you staying?”
“We’ve been given rooms in the palace,” Caleth said. “There are guards. It’s all sectioned off by family. No one can get to us.”
“We’ll add additional protection tomorrow. We won't take any chances.”
“Agreed. We know what’s at stake.”
“Good. I think I’m going to have an ale.”
“We’ll join you,” Caleth said. “I need one.”
“I do too.”
Chapter 4 - Warlord
The first dusting of snow didn’t deter any of the events or celebrations in Daiwer-dar. People still lined up for hours to view the Emperor’s body, braving the cold and the large flakes of snow. There was little accumulation, but the administrators were watchful of how heavy the roofs of the newly constructed tents became with the wet and cold weather. Already one roof had collapsed during the night and required rebuilding, forcing the contingent from Ashimo to seek space inside the main pavilion until things were fixed, cleaned, and set straight.
It was the first day of the competition and the morning temperature was cold. Steam blasted from mouths as people talked, and more fire pots were brought into the tents to heat the areas. Feln looked toward the collection of guards Pearl had assembled. He used the term guards loosely, not because they weren’t qualified, but because they were overqualified. With so much time having passed, a contingent of Pearl’s Furies had traveled to Daiwer-dar from Safun. Ryl led them from his palace, insisting she needed to be there to protect the Most Favored. With her came four others, of which Feln knew they had enough destructive power to level these pavilions in a matter of seconds. With the arrival of these guards for Caleth and Nar, Pearl and Ryl were never far from his side and served as his personal protectors. He tried to argue with them, but gave up. They were as stubborn and devoted as Suun.
They surged forward as a group, making their way to the large pavilion that faced the pillars and the golden circle. An area in front was cordoned off for the Emperor’s special guests, behind were rows of benches spread out in a fan pattern with a single aisle down the middle. Behind the benches was standing room. It was filling up quickly. They scooted into an open area where the benches were not so full, slid into the seats, and crammed against each other. Feln didn’t think anything of it until he realized Pearl was pressing against him. He looked up at the elevated platform where the Emperor was sitting, searching for Owori. He couldn’t see her.
The administrator called for quiet as the first two candidates came forward. It was Djaa and the fighter from Ashimo, chosen at random to begin the tournament. Feln tried to speak with Djaa and Gargam the previous day, but neither of them wanted to talk or even exchange simple pleasantries. Owori didn’t have any luck either. They were content to keep to themselves. Suspicious. He asked around about them and didn't found out anything useful, and not one person from the Shisaru contingent answered his questions. Feln looked up just as the administrator announced the names from a piece of paper, speaking as loudly as he could. The two combatants went inside the golden circle. They bowed. The pillars glowed hot white, but there was no heat, then there was a flash of light and both disappeared. The crowd whistled and applauded.
“Now what do we do?” Feln asked.
“Wait,” a man in front of him answered as he twisted around. “Sometimes it takes minutes, sometimes hours. When the pillars begin to glow, it means they are returning with the winner.”
Feln tried to relax, but he was squashed between Ryl and Pearl. Ryl melted into him, as if she belonged there, and he wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable with her being this close. Pearl tensed and shifted too much, apparently, she wasn’t comfortable sitting this close to him. Her movements made him more aware of her presence. He was hoping the fighter from Ashimo would make quick work of Djaa so they could return to the tent.
Ten minutes later the pillars began to glow hot white. The crowd quieted to murmurs. A flash and a crack echoed and they appeared within the magic circle. There were screams from the front, then the whole crowd stood up so they could see what was going on. Feln lost his view, so he shot up as well. Djaa was there, his white robe splattered with blood. He was holding the Ashimo man’s head by the hair, the headless body out of Feln’s view.
“I thought this wasn’t to the death,” Feln said.
“It happens,” a voice said. “Rarely as I recall.”
The crowd was chattering and it became loud. Djaa stood there, expressionless, holding the head as a trophy. Blood dripped out where the head had been severed. The talking
waned and it became deathly quiet.
“This I promise to any who fights against me,” Djaa yelled. “I will kill you unless you surrender without a fight! Only then will you be spared!”
He let the head plop to the ground and he exited the circle. People from Shisaru surged forward as the shocked contingent from Ashimo began shouting to the Emperor and Yan. The soldiers and Dragonguards kept the two families separated, while the administrator called for order and silence. Once it calmed down, the administrator spoke to all assembled.
“There are no rules except what the Crypt decides at the time of the contest,” he said. “Deaths are uncommon, but they do happen. I will remind you that no one is to act against any candidate or family during these proceedings. Any such transgression will be punished. Candidates can and will be disqualified if the rules aren’t followed.”
Feln felt a few eyes wander toward him. He wanted to say, yes, it’ll be me who will punish you, and given the circumstances, any judgment of mine would be harsh. Just as the new Warlord would judge me harshly.
Yuki came down from the platform and settled next to the administrator, and raising his hand he said, “The selection of the Warlord has gone on this way for thousands of years. It will not be during my reign as Emperor when this tradition is broken. I’ll remind you no one is allowed to interfere with these proceedings and only the spirits within the Crypt of Warlords can make judgments related to the Warlord. If anyone delays or upsets this ritual, punishment will be swift and ruthless.”
The administrator announced the next bout would be in ten minutes. Soldiers and servants were up there, Feln presumed, to clean up the mess. Feln moved to his left, pushing Ryl in that direction. They departed the seating area and traveled to the back of the complex. In the distance was their tent, and Feln decided he would just stay there until Nar and Caleth were going to have their bouts. Not being able to see what was going on made him lose interest. An hour later they were informed that the Emesia representative won the second fight and without a death. Nar was up next, so the group meandered toward the front. The area was packed with family members and nobles, so Feln guided them around the sides in hopes of finding an open space. They found a spot that had a good view of the front. Feln became nervous, knowing that he only had two chances in this whole event to survive. Inside the gold circle Nar and the champion, a woman from Furawa, bowed to each other. A flash of white came and they were gone.