by Paul Heisel
#
The scenery was the same, unchanged. To Caleth, it didn’t feel real. The area felt artificial, created by magic, like he was stuck inside of a box inside of another box. He wondered if it was a representation of a real place the Warlords knew of, or if it was similar to an area on the palace grounds. The grass swayed with the breeze and there was a hint of burnt wood, like someone had extinguished a recent fire. Watahon was across from him, feet planted firmly and he was ready to fight. The spirits drifted out of their burrows, forming into thirteen misty ghosts.
“You know the rules,” the tinny voice said. The table appeared with an array of more types of weapons than Caleth had ever seen. Watahon immediately took a katana, not even considering a different blade. Caleth had no choice but to match him weapon for weapon. Katanas it would be. The table vanished before either could change their mind, and the thirteen spirits formed a line to watch them.
“As before, we will be the judge of who is victorious.”
Caleth loosened his robe and made sure it didn’t restrict his movements. He spent time before this limbering his muscles and focusing his mind, he was ready whether or not he actually was. Watahon bowed. Whereas before Caleth had seen Watahon proud and confident, he now looked nervous at this critical time. They squared off and circled, blades ready, neither willing to strike the first blow. With intensity, Caleth concentrated and focused on beating Watahon with speed. The sequence of moves went through his mind, then his body executed them.
The hardened steel rang against hardened steel as Watahon blocked each advance. His counterattacks were hard but not inventive and Caleth managed to escape unscathed. Additional blows came, Watahon on the offensive, making Caleth dodge and dip along the trampled grass. A countermove slipped by and nicked Caleth on the hip. Watahon had drawn first blood. They circled once again, both measuring the other. Watahon had a distant look in his eye and it was then that Caleth realized Watahon was thinking about the next match. He was looking ahead. From that overconfidence would come his downfall. Caleth figured all he had to do was make Watahon think he had won, then it would be a matter of exploiting the lax defenses. He faked and slashed, catching Watahon’s hip. A miniscule wound, but now they were even. It was time to finish this, for himself, for his new family, and for his friend and new master, Feln.
#
Caleth was victorious and would be one of the last two to compete for the title of Warlord. Owori kept her eye on Suun – where she was, where she went, and who she was keeping company with. She had her Dragonguards discreetly monitor the groups movements, documenting where they went and at what time, as well as who was there. She needed Feln’s belt so she could try to enter the Crypt of Warlords to stop Djaa from using additional help. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get the belt from Suun, and she hadn’t ruled out using force. No, she wouldn’t hurt Suun, would she? She needed Feln’s belt and she cursed him for giving it to Suun in the first place. What was he thinking? She calmed her temper, as it was his ignorance of Pyndira that led him to making that mistake. Hopefully he would stay alive to make more mistakes.
Owori watched Suun from afar, deciding it would be best to follow her after the evening’s festivities and confront her in private. This was a losing proposition, no matter what the outcome, and there would be consequences one way or the other. What eluded her was how deep the resentment would be between her and Suun. Everlasting she guessed. She observed discreetly and could see that Suun was content to mingle with the Shisaru nobles, the woman flitted from place to place making her presence known, but not staying too long in any one spot. The group of nobles and women she spent time with appeared to be a base for her operations. Owori reminded herself that Suun was trying to find out more about the unmarked Furies and what they wanted, or what they were trying to accomplish. It would be disaster if she accidentally caused difficulties for Suun, or worse, made an error and got her caught.
Later, Djaa emerged victorious. The contender from Furawa was dead, his head removed like the others. Only Nar had escaped decapitation. The celebration at the Shisaru pavilion began and elevated to a roar while the administrators announced in two days the final bout would take place between Caleth and Djaa. That announcement sent chills through her, knowing that Feln’s fate would be determined in two days. She had tonight and tomorrow to convince Suun to give her the belt, and if she didn’t succeed, all would be lost.
Toward the end of the night the air felt warmer, a southern breeze blew in, bringing with it rain. It was still cold, but not freezing, and the showers began to melt the snow. Owori spied Suun wandering with her new friends, blinked, and went to follow. They were rushing through the rain, slipping and sliding – some slipping because of the ice and snow, some from the amount of drink consumed. Owori trailed them into the palace where they went to the area allocated to the large contingent from Shisaru. Even here there was activity, additional celebrating continued into the night and Owori could imagine what other things were going on behind the closed doors. Suun’s group split up after hugs and kisses, many paired off and went their separate ways. Suun’s companion grabbed and pulled her to him. After a short whispered exchanged they parted. Suun went through a door and Owori slipped behind her and moved to the side. Suun latched the door, not barring it. There were two beds here, neatly made by the palace servants, and there were two dilapidated traveling trunks placed against the wall. Suun had a roommate. The outer coat dropped to the floor and Suun collapsed on the bed.
“Exhausting, isn’t it,” Owori said, blinking into view.
Suun bolted up and threw something. The knife clattered away, deflecting off Owori’s shield that came up without effort or conscious thought.
“What are you doing here? I have a roommate and she’ll be back once she’s finished with those men. This won’t be explainable!”
“I need Feln’s belt.”
“Feln needs his belt. Not you.”
“If you don’t give it to me, Djaa will kill Caleth. Djaa has found a way to cheat. He has help in the Crypt of Warlords. That is how he killed your father.”
“Impossible,” Suun said, sitting down.
“They have done it, believe me. I need Feln’s belt so I can get inside the Crypt. If I break my binding I can get inside. The spirits of the Warlords told me so.”
“I won’t give a Most Favored belt to a Fury. Are you insane?”
“Not even to avenge your father? Help Feln? Keep Caleth alive?”
“Protecting my family comes first,” Suun spoke, her voice not as confident as before. “Giving a magic belt to a Fury would be a great betrayal to everyone.”
“Suun, you have to trust Feln, me, and Pearl. This is the only way we can make sure that Djaa doesn’t kill Caleth. We have to get into the Crypt of Warlords and stop whoever is helping him.”
“This is preposterous! No one can get into the Crypt of Warlords except for the combatants.”
“An unbound Fury can. They told me – the spirits – the voices. You heard them when you had your trial. Suun, we don’t have any more time. Give me the belt. It’s the only way we can save Feln.”
“No, there has to be another way.”
“There is no other way. Give me the belt.”
Suun stood up from the bed. Her dress was rumpled and creased from the day of celebrating. She looked exhausted. “Never. I will not give you the belt.”
Owori used her magic and pushed Suun against the wall, holding her there. Suun struggled, twisting about, then somehow managed to break free of the magic hold. She took a defensive posture and a slender, wicked knife appeared in her hand.
“This is why I won’t give the belt to a Fury. When you can’t get what you want, you just take it by force. It doesn’t matter who you hurt or what you do, the result is all that matters. I won’t give you the belt.”
“You of all people should know that we do what is required. I use magic, you use steel. The only difference between us is the family that we serve
. Give me the belt so I can break the bond to the Emperor, so I can make sure Feln survives this. That is all I ask of you.”
“Even if you kill me, you won’t find the belt. It’s somewhere safe and only I know where it is. Is that what you’re going to do? Kill me? Well I have some information for you, I’m not the defenseless harlot I’m portraying. I have no problem killing a Fury from another family. Even if Feln loves you with all of his heart.”
“I’m trying to help your family! Can’t you see that? Think about it Suun. I’m bound to the Emperor, but I’m here, trying to find a way to help Feln. Would anyone else even bother? They all want him dead and he will be executed in two days if we don’t do this. The other Most Favoreds fear him and what he represents. Yes they have armies and Furies, and commit crimes and spit in the face of Pyndira’s laws. Still they are afraid of him. Do you know why?”
Suun put her knife away. She tossed her straight black hair to the side so it was out of her eyes. “No, I don’t know why he has caused such a great stir.”
“Because he isn’t from Pyndira. He won’t be blinded by old alliances or let things slide by, if you tell him that he’s here to enforce Pyndira’s laws, he will do that. Feln sees how the other families break the laws, then they turn and point their finger as soon as another falters. If he makes it through this, he will enforce the laws on every family. They want him dead so they won’t have to be accountable for their actions.”
Suun nodded as if she agreed. “He will do that, I know that now. I want Feln to remain the head of our family, believe me, I want that. I see qualities in him that I admire. But I will not give our family belt, our greatest treasure, to a Fury no matter what you tell me.”
“Then Feln is dead,” Owori said. “When he’s executed because Djaa, the new Warlord orders it, you remember that you had the chance to stop it.”
The door latch clicked. Owori blinked. Suun hid her surprise and sat down. A slinky woman came through the door, carrying her coat in the crook of her arm. Her dress was askew. She kicked off her boots, flinging them carelessly across the room where they smacked against the wall.
“He’s too drunk,” she announced, laughing. She slipped out of her dress and lounged on the bed naked, rubbing her hands across her body. She grabbed a quilt and settled it over herself. “Believe me I tried. I’ll have better luck tomorrow. You?”
“I didn’t know pursuing these nobles could be so exhausting,” Suun said.
“It’s worth it darling. Catch one of these young bucks and you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again. I still can’t believe that you got us invited to stay in the palace! We’re right in the middle of everything! We’ll have no worries!”
“Oh there are things to worry about…other women like us stealing our future husband’s affections!”
They laughed.
“I’ll lock the door,” Suun said. “Let’s get some sleep.”
“Were you talking to someone before I got here?”
“No, you must be hearing things. Maybe it’s you who had too much to drink!”
“It sounded like it was coming from our room.”
“Do you see anyone in here?” Suun asked, motioning to the rooms four corners. “I think you’ve had too much of that red wine.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She smiled and let out a long, satisfying sigh.
Suun unlatched the door and peeked down the hallway, opening the door enough for Owori to depart.
“See anyone of interest?” her roommate asked.
“No, it’s nothing. A servant. Don’t waste your time. I don’t know what would be worse; being a servant or being married to one.”
Owori appeared in the empty hallway, looking back at the door where Suun was about to close it. They exchanged glances and Suun’s parting whisper was, never.
#
With little effort Suun closed the door. She was conflicted, choosing to stand by her convictions no matter what Owori said. Furies had their place in Pyndira and it wasn’t with Most Favored or Favored One belts around their waists. The Fury’s magic was the reason the belts had been created, to give the families a way to match a Fury’s strength. Giving Owori a belt, no matter what the circumstance, was out of the question. She wasn’t going to be the one responsible for unleashing a monster, bringing into existence a Fury that was capable of who knows what. And this nonsense about Djaa having help – no one could get into the Crypt of Warlords. It was all a trick to get her to agree to handing over the belt.
“I thought maybe one of those quiet men wanted to see us,” her roommate said. “A couple of them are handsome.”
Suun locked the door. “No such luck tonight.”
Her roommate was sprawled on the bed, the thick quilt barely covering her slim body. She was attractive and playful, the men flocked to her, which was the reason Suun befriended her. Her story was no different from many other young women here; she spent her adolescence and young adult life trying to find a companion, preferably a member of a family or a noble associated with a family. There were thousands like her roommate and that was why she picked this approach. The nobles kept them around because they were disposable. Though her new friend had illusions of going back to Shisaru with one of them, Suun knew better. When the tournament ended and the Emperor’s body was ashes, they would be turned out into the street to fend for themselves.
Approaching the water basin, Suun tossed aside her dress and dipped her hands in the cold water. Though not as cold as the winter landscape outside, this part of the palace wasn’t warm. There were furnaces below the palace heating the air through passageways and vents, but their room was immune. She washed the makeup off her face, scrubbing it hard to give herself a sense of cleansing. These Shisaru nobles weren’t bad people, they just had an unwavering point of view that made them conceited. They thought themselves superior to the other families, and the arrogance came through in many aspects of their interactions. What intrigued Suun the most was how united they were as a family, all supporting Djaa in his efforts to become the Warlord. There were those who abhorred the killing, those who disliked Djaa as a person; yet they supported putting a member of their family as the Warlord of Pyndira. Based on what she had learned, Djaa was an outsider, not a preferred associate of the Most Favored, but part of the family just the same.
What she found interesting was the number of nobles from Shisaru in attendance exceeded all the other families combined. She was sure there were additional people outside of the palace at the family manor houses and inns, and she thought it was odd that so many wanted to participate in the celebration of selecting the Warlord of Pyndira. Why had they assembled here? The answer to that eluded her. She would keep prodding though. The information she had gathered amounted to little and didn’t involve Furies at all. There was a segment of nobles from Shisaru who hinted at a conspiracy to get Feln one way or another, but she couldn’t get anyone to talk about it. In anticipation of trouble, she sent the gaudy red lanterns to Safun’s pavilion. It was a precaution she hoped would misdirect the violence at another family when and if the time came. Silently she wished they would go after Feln, fall for her trick, and kill many of the Shisaru contingent by accident. It was their family that killed her father – twice.
He was dead, again, and she didn’t get to spend any time with him. It was a shame and later she would have many regrets, and she would never forgive Feln for not telling her. Yes, she would do her duty, but he had no right to keep her father from her no matter what the reason. The debate went on whether she should tell her mother about Nar. It would be difficult to keep this secret over time, as news of the selection process for Warlord would eventually get to Safun. Maybe she would tell her mother – she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to worry about it as there were other matters she had to attend to.
Suun slipped into bed, her roommate was twisting and turning to get comfortable under the thick blankets. Despite the exhaustion, sleep wouldn’t come, as her mind was aliv
e. There was too much to think about. She had to come up with a plan that would satisfy her need to take revenge on Shisaru for killing her father, yet it had to be done without hurting or implicating her family. She had to be patient and hope Caleth would beat Djaa. There was no time for anything else, except giving the belt to Owori, and that wasn’t going to happen. Caleth would win, she knew it. She thought highly of Feln’s friend and former master. He was a good man, handsome and strong, a wise man. There were no romantic inclinations, at least not yet, certainly not if he became the Warlord. There was no way she would be the consort to the Warlord of Pyndira. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, relaxing her body and mind. Sleep finally came as exhaustion took her.
The sound woke her. It was a key scraping in the lock to their door. Her legs were off the bed and on the cold floor quick as lightning. The door was open and figures were coming inside, moving with speed and not stealth. Bright lantern light dazzled her. Her roommate came awake and was grabbed by two dark figures, two were coming at her. She had a shabby knife in her hand, knowing well that she could probably kill two of the intruders, but not all four of them. With their cowls drawn she couldn’t see their faces, and it didn’t concern her because she knew they were Shisaru faithful. Who else would have a key in this part of the palace? Besides, this was an act the Emperor would not condone or initiate. Her roommate struggled and thrashed about as a black bag went over her head. Her screams were muffled.
The two coming at her grabbed her arms. Suun twisted out of one hold, brought up the knife that they failed to secure, and cut the assailant on the hamstring. She could have ended his life, choosing to wound instead. If they wanted to kill her, they would have tried to do so by now. They wanted her for a different purpose. With effort, she twisted out of the other’s grip and sliced him with the knife across the arm while the other fell backwards. Both were wounded and mad, and she expected them to come at her with violence. An unseen force picked her off her feet and slammed her against the wall, the magic pinning her there. The man holding the lantern had his free hand outstretched, he was a Fury, and he pressed her hard against the cold stone. Her lungs burned for air and she watched as the two injured thugs put a black bag over her head. She felt hands shake the knife from her grip, then blows came to her defenseless body. Suun wasn’t sure what happened next because everything exploded in pain and white stars.