by Paul Heisel
He didn’t have an answer for that. Owori backtracked through the trampled snow, picking out the unique print among the packed snow. It appeared the person had walked from the viewing area directly toward the Crypt, came next to the cave opening, sneaked behind the guards, and slipped past them. Whoever did this was stealthy, or perhaps when the last contest ended, they entered the Crypt when the guards were distracted.
“We’re going in,” Owori stated.
“No one is allowed inside.”
Owori sent one of her Dragonguards to speak with the Emperor. He was there and back in a minute. The Emperor waved his approval from his seat next to the golden circle. The three went into the opening to the Crypt. They descended the stairs into the darkness, lanterns thrust forward, moving at a moderate pace. The first chamber was empty save for the columns and the decorative sarcophaguses. Owori took some time and inspected the floor, seeing there were spots of water – melted snow. One person had come down here recently, she was sure of it. They continued down the stairs to the next chamber, casting their lantern light into the darkness. The double doors were wide open, still pulsating with magic. It made Owori’s marks tingle.
The ritual chamber was as she remembered. There was a black portal opposite them and the rice table. She inspected the table, pouring over every hole and scrutinizing every inch of it. There was a grain of rice on a corner – and she wondered, had this person gone through the portal? Was that possible? She wiped the grain of rice away and it fell into an opening on the rice board. Owori approached the blackness and motioned for the Dragonguards to stay back. With caution, she took her hand and touched the black. It was like being sucked into a river, the current was too strong for her to resist and she felt as if she had been yanked right out of her cold wet boots. Complete dark covered her.
But a single grain of rice, what a poor offer.
Cast her out.
She belongs to Nutahi.
She will bring balance, but she is bound.
Get rid of this abomination.
What is it she wants?
Poor offer indeed.
Torture her – learn what she knows!
Unbind her and we will.
Impossible, only the assassin can do that.
Make her regret this intrusion!
Agree.
Show her darkness.
#
Owori woke with a start. The two Dragonguards were hovering, not panicked, but they looked concerned. Her stomach was twisted into knots and she remembered dark thoughts. Inside the Crypt, she relived the escape from Salt Island when she was little – her parents killed many to save her. It was a memory she shouldn’t have remembered, along with it she recalled their flight to Malurrion and the pain she felt when her parents died. She relived as well when Feln went missing, experienced again that empty feeling and the lingering regret that she never had a chance to say goodbye. All those feelings stabbed her though the heart, then there was a final vision of Iristi pouncing on Feln. Nothing remained of her heart. Now all she could think about was a discarded Furawa robe and Iristi’s look of triumph when she fell on him. So much skin, flawless and glowing except for bruises and small cuts. No more talking, she told him. No more talking. She didn’t know what happened after that. Feln said he pushed her away…
“What happened?” she asked as the Dragonguards helped her up. The nauseating feeling went away, but not the horrible visions. They played over and over in her mind.
“You touched the black door and fell backwards. You blacked out for a few seconds, that’s all. Are you injured?”
“I’m unharmed,” she said. When touching the blackness, it felt like many minutes had passed, even an hour. She didn’t understand those voices, all those different voices. And what did they mean by their comments? She tried to remember, but the words were jumbled now. She was losing their message. “Remember what I say!” she said to the guards. “Offer, belongs, bound, abomination, torture, unbind, impossible, assassin, darkness.”
“Got it,” one of them said. Owori could see his mouth moving as he silently repeated the words in sequence.
“Let’s go back. I need to talk with someone. If I can find her.”
#
Without question Nar knew he was going to win. Djaa was tiring and had faltered, his defense was getting sloppy. It was time to change from the brute force technique and finish the fight with skills he had developed over years of fighting. Djaa retreated, trying to find a better defensive position, but all it did was delay the inevitable. Nar’s arms were on fire from the exertion, but he knew he could strike until they fell off. He was that strong and conditioned for this extreme effort.
“I offer you a chance to forfeit,” Nar said, panting hard. He stopped his advance.
“No such thing,” Djaa responded. “In fact, it’s you who should be worried.”
“One last chance. You can withdraw and leave here with your life. There is no shame in that.”
Djaa stood taller and took a casual defensive stance.
It wasn’t only his instincts that warned him, Nar smelled sooty smoke from a cooking fire. He jerked one way and a fire lit in the left side of his back. He looked down to see a blade sticking out his chest. Another fire came in his back on the right. The blades disappeared as quickly as they arrived.
“No!” Djaa screamed and launched his whole body forward.
Nar knew he was dead. Everything went black.
#
Owori was looking for Suun, the person mentioned as the ‘assassin’ when she had touched the blackness. Suun’s knowledge of her attempt to be qualified would help explain what she had experienced in the Crypt of Warlords. Despite Feln saying she had returned to Safun, Owori knew better – Suun was here. The difficulty was in finding her. Feln described her as a master at impersonation, and she figured Suun could have posed as any of the nobles assembled here. The best thing for Suun to do would be to blend in, look like everyone else, act like everyone else. At her urging, the Dragonguards went off to write what she had told them, then they were supposed to resume their duties near the Emperor. The cold hit her at once and she thought a hot bath would be welcome tonight. If tonight ever ended.
She was walking to the side to circumvent the crowd gathered around the gold circle when the air filled with electricity and a flash brought the combatants back. Djaa lurched forward and caught Nar in his arms. Blood was flowing down Nar’s body in a rush and he looked dead on his feet. Without care, Djaa dumped him to the ground and raised his fist in triumph. Feln, Ryl, and Pearl hurried forward, but they knew it was too late. It looked like Djaa had run Nar through the chest.
“Once again I will kill any man or woman who fights against me! Surrender and you will be spared!”
The crowd surged and the Shisaru contingent swarmed around Djaa, pulling him away. Owori stood nearby as they tried everything they could to revive Nar, to stop the bleeding. Yuki came down from the elevated platform, guards at his side. He was going back to the warmth of the palace. She looked to Yuki for direction and he motioned for her to stay. Each passing moment she crept forward to help, but she knew there was nothing she could do. There were tears on many faces and Feln looked distraught, his face pale and drawn. Servants were bringing forward a litter to carry Nar away. Other servants stood by to clean up the blood, and Owori was about to tell them to leave and come back later, when the whole of the Xialao family grabbed the litter from the servants and took Nar. Owori followed at a discreet distance.
#
The reality was difficult to take, but Feln knew there was just one last chance with Caleth. He thought that cold and selfish, and scolded himself for thinking that way. Nar had been a great asset to his family, loyal, and worthy of respect. Though he didn’t see her, he figured Suun was nearby grieving a second time for her father. Loyalty would prohibit her from faltering and Feln understood when this was over, Suun would need time to heal. Recalling how he had felt when his father died on the executione
r’s block had a double impact, and it made him concerned that Suun would do something rash. He imagined her getting angry and wanting revenge, and if she interfered with the rites, it would mean disaster. Not only would he have to trust that she was going to find out what the Furies were doing, he would have to trust that she wouldn’t act because of this heartrending loss.
Behind them a short distance was Owori, she looked troubled to him, and he invited her to come with them as they took Nar to their tent. She shook her head. She melted into the crowds of nobles making their way to other tents and the exits. Feln was glad his contingent was so small that Yuki let them stay at the palace in their own quarters. Many of the nobles commuted from their family manors or from inns inside the city. Either way, it was a long trip each morning to arrive, and a longer trip home as congestion slowed progress. He, though, was still a prisoner in his room.
They laid Nar on a table, his cooling blood had soaked into the canvas litter. There were nicks and cuts all over his body, and two deep puncture wounds in his chest. Feln had seen many sword cuts and punctures in his time, and the ones in his chest didn’t look correct.
“Turn him over,” Feln said.
Before anyone could move, Ryl used her magic to lift the body off the litter, rotated it, and set it down gently. Feln pulled back the blood-covered robe. The two wounds were from thick, sharp swords. Heavy too. They examined the wounds and there was no question in Feln’s mind; Nar had been stabbed in the back.
“He was stabbed in the back,” Pearl said before Feln could make the same announcement.
“Looks that way. Tell me, how could this happen? How could Djaa stab Nar in the back twice?”
“When they returned, Djaa was in front of him, moving toward him. He wasn’t behind him.”
“Pearl, stand over there.” Feln positioned himself so he was six or seven feet from Pearl, the same distance they witnessed Djaa cover before catching Nar.
“How in the blazes did he stab Nar in the back?” Pearl’s hands went to her hips.
“I have my suspicions, trouble is, no one is going to believe me,” Feln said.
“Believe what?”
“Another person is in there, assisting Djaa. That’s why he’s killing everyone, so there are no witnesses. That’s how he’s winning.”
“How did someone get inside there?” Pearl asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out before it’s too late.”
#
The Shisaru contingent was smug while celebrating Djaa’s victory. It didn’t seem to bother them that Djaa was killing his opponents. Owori felt anger and she wasn’t sure why she was strolling toward their tent. There were many people here, nobles and sycophants alike, enjoying the food and drink. Their contingent was the largest of all the families, the more important persons and consorts were staying at the palace, mid-level nobles were staying at the manor house, and the rest were staying at inns inside the city. They surrounded Djaa and were congratulating him on a great victory, and they were sure he was going to be the next Warlord of Pyndira. Owori could see that Djaa was having none of the celebration, as he appeared beaten physically and mentally. The crowds made way for Owori as she walked inside and she heard comments from the gossips that made no sense at all – she ignored them and continued toward Djaa in a straight line.
He finally caught sight of her and curtailed his conversation with those around him. Nobles were lifting cups and bowls, toasting his victory a second time. The Most Favored of Shisaru, just arriving from the palace, lifted his cup and made a short speech, talking about Djaa’s fortitude and strength, and reiterating how he was going to be the next Warlord of Pyndira. Owori waited, eyes fixed on Djaa, and she could see he was concerned with her presence. The Most Favored finished his speech and the cheering began.
“I know what you’re doing,” Owori told Djaa to his face.
Djaa was expressionless.
“I’ll find a way to stop you.”
That caused a reaction from those around, but before they could intervene on Djaa’s behalf, Owori spun on her heels and walked away. The eyes of the Shisaru crowd were on her, nobles, their wives or mistresses, and women that looked like harlots stared at her as she strolled through the tent. She couldn’t believe she just threatened Djaa on her intuition. Perhaps she endangered the proceedings by doing so. As she got farther away, her fear departed. The crowd was thick and she came to a halt, glancing over her shoulder and expecting to see an angry Shisaru mob coming after her. No one was there, just the flowing and surging crowd of partygoers. She waited patiently for the path to clear and she considered using her magic to push people to the side. It would be effective, but frowned upon and most likely reported to Yuki. The last thing she needed was for Yuki to dismiss her from the tournament.
These nobles without question were lovely, man and woman alike, dressed in finery and warm coats. There was a variety here, though most were clad conservatively, there were many who defied common sense. A woman was hardly dressed and she looked cold, but the way the men were fawning over her…Owori guessed the woman didn’t care. Another had on a short red dress, so tight fitting that it complemented every curve. The woman’s dark black hair was straight, her face decorated with white powder to make her look pale. She was adorable, but that wasn’t her best feature. Her legs, hardly covered by the dress, looked flawless and strong.
It registered. Owori stopped and turned.
“Keep walking darling,” the woman said. “You’re not my type.”
The men around her laughed.
Owori spun on her heels, her robe flying out, and pushed through the crowd. At least she found Suun. Now it was a matter of finding a way to talk to her without getting her killed. That would be a challenge given the circumstances, so she walked clear of the Shisaru pavilion and went to find her Dragonguards. The other piece of information she needed was how to get inside the Crypt of Warlords so she could find out who was helping Djaa. She was having trouble remembering what the voices had said as the conversation was fading from her memory. She went to find the Dragonguards to read what she had told them to write, then she was going to tighten security in the palace. She wanted to know about comings and goings, no matter how innocent they appeared, she wanted it documented. Number, times, and who they were.
#
Feln was simmering in anger as he walked, the world around him blocked out because of his dark thoughts. Now he was thinking that Suun was the least of their worries, as Shisaru would have to contend with his anger. Djaa cheated. He found a way to get others in there – wherever there was – and used them to kill his opponents. It must not be against the rules…he didn’t understand that…why would the spirits let that go on? He looked up, scanning, and he could see ahead of him that the crowds were dispersing. Behind him was Ryl and Pearl, his protectors, following. The Shisaru tent was on the edge of his view. Feln wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he got to Djaa. He knew he would figure it out. Out of the mass of people to his right came Owori, red robe flowing.
He had seen that look before, one of utter determination, and he came to the realization that she knew about Djaa’s helpers and had discovered it independently from him. It made him feel better that he wasn’t crazy, then the truth of it made him angrier. Djaa was cheating and had others kill his opponents! Owori motioned to him and he stopped, followed behind her, and went back to their tent with the gaudy red glowing globes shining brightly. They sat down in the middle of the tent in the comfortable chairs, the mood still somber. Feln directed the Furies and guards to spread out on the perimeter. The tent was empty except for Feln, Owori, Caleth, Pearl, and Ryl. Owori removed a crumpled piece of paper from her hands.
“Djaa is getting assistance,” Owori said.
“We know. If you look at Nar’s wounds, it looks like two people stabbed him while Djaa watched.” Feln leaned forward. “How did you figure this out?”
“I found a footprint in the snow near the entrance to
the Crypt. It was at an angle that a person would take if they were sneaking toward the guards. I went inside and tried to go through the portal, but magic stopped me from going through. There were voices in my head, like a whole group of people were having a conversation and at the same time I was reliving the most painful memories of my life. I wanted to talk to Suun about what happened when she failed inside the Crypt of Warlords because the Warlords mentioned an assassin, I believe they meant her. I thought she could help me understand what they were saying or at least provide me with insight. But you sent her away.” She smoothed out the rough paper she had retrieved from her Dragonguards and read it aloud. “‘Offer, belongs, bound, abomination, torture, unbind, impossible, assassin, darkness.’ That’s what the voices said to me – there were more words, but I can’t remember them now. It was like a conversation, or commentary. It was as if many people were talking to me one after the other.”
Caleth stepped forward. “There are thirteen spirits, the original Warlords, who govern the matches. Those were the voices you heard.”
“I saw visions that upset me,” Owori said. “It was as if they were trying to hurt me, to punish me for intruding. I wish I could remember what they said!”
“You couldn’t go inside the portal, right?”
“I couldn’t, but it felt like I could under certain circumstances, it was as if they were commenting on how I could and why I should or shouldn’t. I just don’t remember.”
“Djaa must have found a way to do it,” Feln said. “Do you think you could try again?”
“Tomorrow,” Owori said. “I need time to think. I’ll see what I come up with. In two days, the next matches will begin. We have to figure this out in two days.”
“What do you want us to do?” Feln asked.
“Rest. Help Caleth prepare. Now that we know there could be a trap, he can be on the lookout for it. I’m going to figure this out if it’s the last thing I do. If I need your help, I’ll get word to you.”
#
It was late in the evening. The clouds cleared away, leaving the twin red moons shining down across the Emperor’s palace. Owori was on her balcony, as she normally did when she needed to think, braving the sharp chill in the air. It was well after midnight and the soldiers were vigilant watching over the deceased Emperor. The crowds had dispersed hours ago, and she figured if they allowed it, the people would visit the Emperor’s body twenty-four hours each day and night. The Crypt of Warlords was out of her direct view, obscured by the pavilions, tents, and temporary structures. She could see the bright red lights of the Safun tent dominating the scene, glowing – a beacon to who knows what. She intended to ask Feln about the lanterns, but had forgotten. It didn’t matter. The celebration was still going on, the partygoers never tiring of the eating, drinking, and merrymaking. It wasn’t right. Good people had died. It wasn’t right.