by Paul Heisel
This was a long storeroom, and inside there were shelves and cabinets, chests and barrels. A man in a Sode family uniform was standing there, a record book and a writing instrument in his hands. He was taking inventory.
“Is there another door out of here?” Owori asked, acting as if she belonged.
“No, this is a storeroom. What are you doing?”
She couldn’t take any chances. She lifted her free hand and tossed him across the room, slamming him against cabinets and shelves. It made more noise than she wanted, but it neutralized the obstacle. Owori put Suun on the ground, went to the door, and jammed it shut. At the end of the long room she cleared away a space near the wall, took one of her magic blades and hacked. It would have been easier with an ax, but she didn’t have time to look for one. The weapon was doing little to the wood, it wasn’t designed for such work, and she went with the alternate plan. There were barrels full of oil in here, so she twisted one until it was ten feet from the wall, then she used her magic to propel it through. The wood snapped on impact, creating a hole, and the top of the barrel caved in. Oil splashed, then began to spill everywhere.
Suun went through first. It was awkward for Owori to get her through the jagged opening in the wall. She followed, seeing this was another hallway but closer to the front of the wing, and pulled Suun to relative safety. There was one more diversion – she grabbed the lantern from the storeroom and smashed it on the floor, igniting the oil. The black smoke rolled behind her, Owori forgot how quickly smoke could travel in a confined space, wondering if she inadvertently put them in more danger. She came to an open area of the wing, there were people here, milling around trying to find the source of the noise she had made crashing through the wall. “Fire!” she called out, pointing behind her as the sooty smoke billowed off the ceiling. People scurried away and they didn’t care that she was carrying Suun. She kept as close to them as she dared, cognizant that an exit to the outside had to be on her right. More people including guards and house staff appeared, and she turned away, hiding behind a decorated pilaster. They rushed by her position. She stepped out of hiding as soon as they were by and headed toward what looked to be a door that led outside.
The colder air hit her at once, chilling and waking her. Her shoulder ached from the injury and Suun was getting heavier by the moment. Owori kept moving, not looking back, imagining the fire was spreading uncontrolled by now. Trudging through the snow, she took a route behind yellowing shrubs so she could stop and rest. She hadn’t put enough clothes on Suun, and even though it wasn’t bitter cold, it was going to be a problem if she didn’t get her to a warm and safe place soon. Shades! She would liberate her only to have her die from exposure! She picked up Suun and moved on an angle toward the front gate, taking a roundabout path so the guards outside wouldn’t see her until the last moment.
“Open the gate, she needs to be taken to a healer!” Owori yelled as she approached.
The guards on the outside of the compound peered through the iron gate from their assigned stations. Blast of steam came from their noses and mouths. Owori was moving as fast as she could, the weight of Suun weakening her with every step.
“Who are you? Identify yourself!”
“What the…fire!”
There was no time to trick them, no time to explain about the fire they saw behind her. Owori sent a wave of force at them, knocking them into the open avenue. They got back to their feet as she was moving through the gate with Suun. Both had lost their spears and were drawing their short, stout swords. Owori put Suun on the cold snowy ground, further endangering what life was left in the broken woman. The anger streaked. She should have killed those two Furies instead of leaving them hanging there. She sent the nearest guard spinning to the ground with a ferocious kick to his head augmented by her magic. The other charged, attacking her headlong. With her magic she pulled him off balance, yanking him toward her and into the waiting Dragonblades. The wounds she left weren’t mortal, and she cracked his skull with an elbow for good measure and left him on the ground bleeding. The other guard wasn’t moving. Suun went over her shoulder and she went to find her horse.
#
“She’s resting,” the healer said. The older woman motioned toward Suun, who was tucked comfortably in a cot next to Owori’s bed. “It may take months for her to recover from this. I have never seen someone beaten this badly who survived.”
“Thank you for your help and discretion,” Owori said. “I need to speak with her. It’s important. Can you wake her?”
“She needs to rest. You can talk with her tomorrow. I’ll have her moved to the infirmary soon.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Owori said. “Understand? She stays in this room.”
“Yes,” the healer responded. “Of course.”
“Bring two of my Dragonguards here. I’ll take good care of her until you return.”
“Yes.”
Owori flowed the magic back and forth in her limbs, using the technique Pearl taught her to heal her wounds. The door behind her clattered shut. With gentle hands, Owori grasped Suun’s bruised head and sent magic into her. It would either help her or kill her. Owori was willing to take that risk. She needed to find Feln belt.
#
Out in the cold again, Owori made her way to the pavilions. Suun’s explanation of where the belt lay hidden was sketchy at best. Suun wasn’t coherent, a cumulative result of the torture, the herbs the healer used, and the jolts of magic. It took time to convince her to divulge the location of the belt, but Suun finally gave in. A drizzle came from the cloudy sky, wetting the snow around her. Owori pulled her robe tighter knowing the layers she put on beneath would keep her core warm while her shield would keep the rain away. Her shoulder ached from the Fury’s lightning; she had only taken time to put a bandage over the burn. There wasn’t enough time for her to accomplish everything, so healing her sore arm would have to come later. Tomorrow Caleth would fight Djaa and she had to find a way into the Crypt of Warlords to make sure Djaa didn’t receive assistance.
Much of the snow along the cobbled path had melted, assisted by the rain and a warm breeze. The piles of snow pushed to the side by servants were becoming icy mounds – if it froze tonight it would be slippery tomorrow. Ahead the pavilions stood silent and without celebrations. The canvas was battered from the weather, the snow taking the greatest toll on the fabric. Work crews were done for the day, but it looked to Owori that they hadn’t finished the repairs. To the left was the Safun pavilion, empty and silent, the red lanterns unlit. Tonight the areas would remain dark except for lanterns along the paths for the workers. Owori remembered Suun babbling about the red lanterns, but in her weakened state, Suun wasn’t able to express what she wanted to say. Maybe later Suun would be lucid enough to speak coherently about the lanterns. There was activity in the other pavilions, to her surprise, and it looked as if they were having the furniture rearranged. Early tomorrow all the food preparations would begin, by mid-morning the crowds would gather, and by noon the celebrating would be in full swing. The final fight was in the afternoon, and she was sure the wine and ale would be flowing freely. The urgency hit her, making her feel hollow. She had until then to figure this out and to put an end to Djaa’s advantage.
Inside the Safun pavilion it was dark and hard to see. She put her lantern on a table and found the overstuffed chair Suun had talked about. It was covered in black fabric. With all the activity of the tournament, it hid none of the abuse it had taken over the weeks, and certainly it would be discarded or recovered after the event concluded. Owori tipped over the chair, cut away fabric from the underside, and removed a package fastened to the frame. Wrapped inside soft red felt was Safun’s belt of the Most Favored. It was in her hands now and she could feel the magic pulsating from within. No ceremony was needed, no timeless reflection required for what she had to do next. Owori opened the layers of clothing until she found her tight-fitting underclothes, cinched the belt securely around her waist, then bund
led up again. She looked toward the Crypt of Warlords and found the entrance guarded.
#
Caleth hovered, pacing along the edge of Owori’s bedroom. Suun was asleep and Pearl was sitting on the edge of the bed with her hand on Suun’s foot. Owori wasn’t back yet, increasing the worry he felt. It was dark outside and suppertime passed, and Caleth was concerned that a member of the palace would come and remove them. Without Owori here, he felt like an unwanted guest. He was surprised that no one had asked them to leave. It bothered him to experience so much hate; even in his latter days in Sabrin, as the Accord of the Hand was crumbling, he had never seen so many people devoted to destruction. It was a harsh reality that Pyndira, a place he hardly understood, was a violent world. That made this fight tomorrow ironic, that he and Djaa, two men from Malurrion, were going to fight to become the second most powerful person in Pyndira. He wondered if anyone knew they were from Malurrion, or for that matter, if anyone cared.
He glanced at the bed. Seeing Suun like this had a strange effect on him, and it made him upset and angry. Though Owori assured him that those responsible suffered, he wanted retribution for what they did to her. This was new for him, this feeling, and he wondered what it meant. Was it his feelings for Suun? Had he grown to care for her beyond their friendship? Or was it Pyndira, this violent place, seeping discontent into his bones?
“You need to rest,” Pearl told him. “Suun will survive whether you are in the room or not.”
Caleth stopped pacing and stared at the woman. She was dressed in layers of expensive robes, informal evening wear Emato had provided for the family’s use. Her straight blond hair was pulled to one side and covered the front of her robe. Her bright blue eyes were shining, her golden skin was glowing. Her prominent cheeks were rosy. This was the first time he had noticed how beautiful Pearl was. “I can’t rest,” he said.
“There is nothing you can do here. You must win your match tomorrow with Djaa. Don’t you think you should rest?”
“I won’t be able to sleep knowing Suun was tortured by those animals. Maybe if she woke up and I could talk to her, hear her voice, then I could rest.”
“She’s not going to be awake for a while,” Pearl said. “Go back to your room, rest. I’ll watch over her until Owori gets back.”
“I’ll remain if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” She frowned.
Caleth resumed pacing, his thoughts on tomorrow’s fight. Djaa was an accomplished fighter, great with weapons, and experienced at facing different types of foes. What troubled him was the unknown, the help Djaa had. He hoped Owori had found a way to enter the Crypt of Warlords, not to help him, but to prevent Djaa from receiving help. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t returned – she was inside the Crypt trying to figure this out. He didn’t mind a fair fight, in fact he preferred it, and his only hope of having that was if Owori was successful. The other thing that concerned him was what would happen if he won. He would be the next Warlord of Pyndira. What in shades did that mean besides that his friend would live?
#
When Owori woke, she wasn’t cold and the lantern she had lit in the Crypt of Warlords was still burning, so hours hadn’t passed. It could have been a few minutes or an hour, she wasn’t sure. The spirits let her into the black void and told her that the binding wasn’t broken, and again in general they berated her for the feeble attempt. Her suspicion that just putting on the belt wouldn’t work was realized – there was another component to activating the magic or there was another event that had to happen, and she didn’t know what it was. She sat up, trying to clear her mind and think about things logically, what would break the binding? She stood up and grabbed the lantern, and when she came to the right spot she put it down and doused the flame. Darkness enveloped her. She crept toward the exit, blinked, evaded the guards, and headed for the palace. Exhaustion set in, yet she wondered if she would get any rest tonight. There was too much thinking to do.
Outside of her room the two Dragonguards greeted her. Their serious looks made her think there was a problem. She went through the door and expected to see Pearl and Caleth stooped over a dead Suun. Pearl and Caleth were there, and in addition to them were healers and nurses all attending to a half-naked Suun. The air smelled like medicines, herbal teas, and strong balms.
“What happened here?” Owori asked.
“She had a fit,” Pearl said. “I sent for help. I didn’t think you would mind.”
“No I don’t, you did the right thing.”
“Did you…” Caleth said before Owori cut him off with an icy glare.
“No,” she said curtly. “No details to report.”
“I’m going to go to my room,” Caleth said. “I feel like I’m in the way. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll figure it out,” Owori said.
He waved as he left the room.
Near the bed Owori could see Suun resting peacefully, her wounds bound and slathered with medicines. The healers were quietly discussing the situation and the nurses were preparing elixirs. Pearl came to her side and put her hand on her injured shoulder. The pain shot through her and she cringed, withdrawing from Pearl’s touch.
“Are you injured?”
“I’m fine,” she answered, sending a wave of magic through her body to aid the healing process. “My shoulder is sore. It’ll heal in time. What happened to Suun?”
“She started thrashing about, like she was having a nightmare. She started screaming. Your Dragonguards came and I sent them to get the healers. Her screams must have scared the guards because they brought a half dozen people. Collectively they calmed her down. The worst of it seems to be over.”
“Did she say anything?”
“Nothing that makes any sense. After screaming she mumbled instructions, like she was talking to Feln about moving the red lanterns. She said, ‘Feln, we have to move the lanterns.’ Does that make any sense to you?”
“No. Where do we move them to?”
“Don’t know.”
“I need your help,” Owori whispered as she leaned closer to Pearl. The healers and nurses took notice.
“Anything. What do you need?”
“Outside.” Owori led her out into the hall and they walked until they were out of earshot of the Dragonguards.
“I have the belt but haven’t been able to break the binding. Do you have any ideas?”
“Not really,” she answered. “I was going to do research, but all of this delayed my searching.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“I’m sorry Owori, I don’t have any idea how it’s done.”
“What do you suggest?” Owori asked. “What can I try?”
“It could be as simple as taking it on and off, or as complicated as using your own magic to force the binding to break. I don’t know what will trigger the magic of Feln’s belt to break to magic hold over you.”
“We have to try. I don’t know where to start.”
“I'll help in any way I can,” Pearl said.
“Walk with me for a while. Maybe we can figure it out.”
#
By morning the pavilions were filling up. She stood on the balcony and braved the cold, thankful it wasn’t as frigid as the previous days. Though it was warmer, the chill remained as did the snow crusted with ice. Patches of ground could be seen where the rain collected and melted the snow, though now it was iced over and slippery. Below her, in the vast open area, workers and soldiers were preparing for the Emperor’s funeral. The traditional pyre was a tower of hewn logs set in a square crisscross pattern, allowing for air flow. Once the fire got going, little would stop it. The Emperor’s body would turn to ashes, and later in the spring, they would travel to the cottage in the country and place his ashes next to his ancestors.
The previous night was a failure, and Owori was no nearer to figuring out how to break the magical binding. Her conversation with Pearl was a worthless brainstorming session, and for all their collect
ive knowledge, they realized that they didn’t know anything. There was no way for them to access persons who knew the lore of the belts, much less find them or find out who they were. They didn’t have time to read volumes of books either, even if they could find the information. They tried several things with magic, but nothing worked. She was going to fail. Failure meant Feln’s death.
After breakfast she was back at it, trying to come up with a way to make the Most Favored belt break the binding. Lost in thought, she wandered the palace halls, thinking, not aware how much time had passed until a guard summoned her. Yuki wanted to see her before the contest began in the afternoon. In his study, they spoke of pleasantries and the changing weather, and he asked her questions. Owori was curt with her answers and didn’t understand the point of the conversation until Yuki asked her if she knew anything about an incident at the Sode family manor the previous day. He described it as an attack on the family, a young woman and four others were dead, several guards injured, and a wing of the manor suffered fire damage and nearly burnt to the ground. She denied knowledge of the event, even when he queried her about the injured woman who was in her quarters, she denied it was related to the Sode family. She denied having anything to do with the Sode family in total, and reminded him that she was a bound Fury of the Nutahi family. Yuki didn’t press her on the issue, though he did mention that if the guilty party was found, they would be punished. With that she went on her way.
Additional people were walking to the pavilions, treading carefully over the icy ground. Owori wandered with them, blending in the crowd, the solution of using the Most Favored belt to break the binding still eluding her. She managed to get to a private area, then she blinked and went to the Crypt of Warlords, determined to try entry one more time. When she touched the void, she would ask the spirits to help her, beg them if she had to. With the snow hardened into ice, it was easy to slip by the two guards as they were too interested in the excitement gathering in the pavilions to notice any slight error that she made. Down she went, lighting the lantern she had left yesterday. She threw herself into the blackness, only to wake up on the floor a short time later.