by Claire Frank
“You always understand more of the politics than you let on,” Alastair said. “I’ve often wondered if you keep that to yourself because you don’t want to get involved.”
“I suppose you know me too well,” Daro said as he shifted in his saddle.
As they came around a bend in the road, a wide plain stretched out before them. It was peppered with tents arranged in neat rows, with a line of supply wagons and small open areas for cook fires.
“Are we walking into a war?” Daro asked, as he looked out over what was clearly a military encampment. Thayan soldiers milled about the camp, the closest looking up to watch as their entourage went by.
“No,” Alastair said. “The border shifted some years ago, and this road now marks the break between the territories of the Henju and Mero families. Warlord Mero keeps what he calls a peacekeeping force here, but really he’s just biding his time and waiting for Henju to show some glimmer of weakness. Henju has a similar force closer to Mero’s central city.”
Daro shook his head. “Always at war.”
“They have eight different words for war,” Alastair said. “This is hai-bannan, which essentially means war during peace.”
The city of Neru soon came into view. Completely encircled by a high wall, the city was built surrounding a central keep. The buildings were narrow with high pitched roofs that allowed the heavy snowpack to slide off during the harsh winters. Alastair rode forward and approached the guards at the gate as the other soldiers moved in around Daro, surrounding him. After a few moment’s wait, the gates were opened and Alastair moved back to ride alongside Daro as they entered the city.
Alastair leaned toward Daro and spoke low. “Stare straight ahead, as if you’re above everyone.”
Daro drew his eyebrows down. “Why?”
“You defeated two of their best warriors and you carry their Heorun blades on your back. That’s bold, but we need you to appear confident, maybe even a bit brash. You have to look like a champion. It’s what they expect.”
Daro kept his eyes locked ahead, but it made him feel a fool. People gathered in the streets to watch them pass, mostly women and children and the occasional young man. The oldest were women; Thaya was not a realm of old men. They usually died in war.
Daro and Alastair wound their way through the city, as the crowd thickened. Men with swords at their hips stood among the bystanders, their numbers increasing as Daro and Alastair neared the central keep. Daro kept his eyes forward, watching from his peripheral vision, feeling a bit like a fraud. People’s eyes went wide at the sight of him and murmurs broke out as he passed, people turning to each other and speaking in excited whispers.
The Keep itself was surrounded by another wall and Alastair had to nudge his horse forward to confer with the guards before they were granted admittance. As they entered the inner courtyard, the central building rose up in front of them. Built on a raised platform of stone, the Keep towered above the rest of the city. It was a tiered building with numerous square sections, all with pitched roofs. A narrow, switchback staircase was the only way into the structure, so they turned their mounts over to the stable boys and made their way up the wooden stairs on foot. Daro saw eyes looking out of the arrow slits and could almost feel the points of the arrows trained on him.
They were led into an open chamber, the ceiling high above them lined with heavy wooden beams. Oil lamps flickered along the walls, casting odd shadows in the corners, and the only furniture was a long, rectangular table and set of chairs in the center of the room. The walls were adorned with swords and shields, all polished to a brilliant shine.
Five men entered from the other side, dressed in leather armor with fur-lined cloaks across their shoulders. All were armed with swords at their waists, and the man in the center rested his hand on the hilt of his long, Heorun blade.
Daro stood back as Alastair walked forward to greet them. He bowed at the waist, but kept his face lifted to the others; they did the same.
The man in the center spoke. He had a heavy blond beard, broad shoulders, and almond-shaped blue eyes. “Alastair of Halthas.”
“Warlord Henju,” Alastair said. “It is with gratitude that we enter your domain.”
“It is with honor we offer our hospitality,” Henju said, his accent thick but understandable.
Henju gestured to the table and Daro sighed inwardly with relief. He was tired from riding most of the day and had hoped they’d have time to eat before the acts of diplomacy would begin. They took their seats, Daro and Alastair facing the five Thayans across the table, as several women entered bearing wooden trays of steaming food.
The smell made Daro’s mouth water, as the servants padded in on silent feet and placed the food on the table. Alastair made no move to eat, and Daro recalled enough from his last visit to know he needed to be invited before serving himself. A slight young woman leaned over Henju’s place to fill his plate while another poured amber liquid into a small cup. They all waited as Henju tasted the food and washed it down with a drink. He nodded to the women, and they began serving the rest of the table.
“How was your journey?” Henju asked as they began eating.
“Without incident,” Alastair answered. “King Rogan offers his greetings.”
“You may offer your king my greetings in return,” Henju said.
Daro ate slowly, his nerves curbing his appetite as he realized the Thayans were all watching him. They scooped up bits of food with their bread, but their eyes never left him. Alastair and Henju exchanged a few more pleasantries, a conversation with a practiced rhythm to it. Daro could sense a formality to the words, a feeling that they were necessary, rather than intentional.
Henju drained his cup and put a hand over the top as one of the women moved to fill it. “This is the man I have asked to see.”
Alastair sat back in his chair. “This is Daro Imaran, warrior of Halthas and friend of King Rogan.”
Henju narrowed his eyes at Daro and the other men watched with obvious interest. “He is called Imaran and he bears the look of the Imaran people. Why is he a warrior of Halthas?”
Daro wasn’t certain if he should answer, but Alastair spoke. “Daro’s father was of Imara, his mother of Halthas. He is a subject of King Rogan and welcome among his kin in Imara.”
The Thayans leaned forward, watching Daro with deeper intensity.
“Let us speak plainly,” Henju said, turning for the first time to address Daro. “You carry the sacred weapons of the Heoru. Some say you earned them through combat. Any Heoru may take the blade of their fallen enemy. It is their right and responsibility as a warrior. You know this?”
“I do,” Daro said. He wasn’t sure if Henju wanted a longer answer, but he figured he should keep his words simple.
“You are not Heoru. You have not lived among us or trained with us, nor have you completed the rituals that mark the Heoru warrior,” Henju said. He leaned forward across the table. “You are not Thayan.”
Daro held his gaze without flinching, his face still. “I defeated their bearers. The Heorun swords are mine by right.”
“You do not have the right,” Henju said, his voice carrying through the hall. He slapped his hand down on the table and sat back in his chair. “There must be judgment. You must prove to us that you are worthy of these blades.”
Anger whispered through Daro’s mind but he fought back the urge to argue. He wanted to stand and challenge this man to fight now, wanted to pull his blade free and watch the smug look fall from his face. But the anxiety he felt from Alastair, and the cold fury he could sense in Henju, held him back. “How do I prove this?”
“You will face our warriors, man to man, in combat. This is our way. Prove you are worthy of these blades, and we will allow you to keep them.” Henju’s eyes turned back to Alastair. “And we will speak of this alliance your king has proposed.”
The Thayans rose, the scrape of their chairs echoing in the large room. Daro stood and Alastair nudged him. “Accep
t,” he said under his breath.
Daro stood. “I accept.”
“Let it be decided by your blades,” Henju said. He bowed at the waist, never lowering his face, and the other Thayans did likewise.
Daro and Alastair bowed in return, then waited as the Thayans left the way they had come. The serving women slipped in and began removing the meal, as Daro and Alastair turned to leave.
“They’re intense, aren’t they?” Daro said as they made their way down the stairs.
“I thought negotiating with some of the Halthian nobles was difficult,” Alastair said. “The worst of them are meek as kittens compared to these people.”
Another Thayan woman met them at the bottom of the stairs and led them to their accommodations. It was a square building with a steep roof, and inside they found a warm fire crackling in the stone fireplace, as well as a spread of food on the table.
“This is a good sign,” Alastair said, gesturing to the room. “This means they are showing us respect by giving us good lodging.”
“Why were they so surprised that I’m Imaran?” Daro asked as he pulled up a stool to the table. He hadn’t eaten nearly enough and was glad to be able to eat without being watched.
“I get the sense they have a certain reverence for Imarans,” Alastair said. “There’s something in their history about Imara, although I’ve not quite worked out what it is.”
“Not enough reverence to send me on my way without proving myself,” Daro said.
Alastair joined him at the table and picked up a piece of dried fruit. “No, but I didn’t expect they would.”
“There’s something they aren’t saying,” Daro said. He’d gotten the distinct sense that they were holding something back. “He said he would speak plainly, but I have a feeling he wasn’t.”
“There’s always more than what they say,” Alastair said. “I learned that quickly.”
“I’m not even sure what I just agreed to,” Daro said, letting a chunk of bread drop from his grasp. “How am I supposed to prove my worth?”
“There’s an arena on the other side of the city,” Alastair said. “They seem to decide most of their internal problems by combat, either by pitting warriors against each other, or choosing champions to stand in for them. That is, unless the women handle it.”
“How do the women handle it?” Daro asked.
Alastair gave him a half smile. “You may not see it while you’re here, but Thayan women aren’t all servants. The men spend so much time at war, the women are left behind to do most of the work running things. They have their own hierarchy and administration, and their own methods for taking care of conflict. For the men, fighting in the open, especially with witnesses, is extremely important. It’s a matter of honor to conduct yourself according to a certain code, and to win with glory. The women have no qualms about simply sending an assassin to kill their target in their sleep.”
“I guess I’m glad I’m not here to face the women, then,” Daro said with a short laugh. “At least the men have a code.”
“You’d think that would work in our favor, but their code is complicated,” Alastair said. “I don’t really understand it, and I’ve been studying Thaya for years.”
“Complicated?”
Alastair shrugged. “They speak of honor, but their version of honor isn’t necessarily the same as ours. Let me handle the details. All you need to do is win.”
Daro sighed as he tossed his chunk of bread back on the platter, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. This proving by combat was starting to feel like a bad idea.
26. AN EXHIBITION
Alastair helped Daro tighten the straps of his leather armor as they waited for the exhibition to begin. They were in a small antechamber beneath the stands of the arena. Noise from the crowd grew as the seats filled, and Daro fought down a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Remember, this is just a demonstration,” Alastair said. “They want to test you against some of their Heoru fighters.”
“Some?” Daro said. “How many?”
“Six,” Alastair said, his voice nonchalant.
Daro whipped his head around. “Six? And you’re expecting me to walk away from this?”
“They won’t be trying to kill you, just test your skill,” Alastair said. “And let’s be honest, you’re no longer just an ex-guardsman who is good with a sword.”
Although Alastair had a point, Daro was not looking forward to this exhibition. He was willing to fight when he had to, but he’d never done so in front of an audience. The thought was distasteful.
“I keep thinking back on our conversation in Halthas and wondering why I ever agreed to this,” Daro said as he adjusted his vest.
“I know,” Alastair said. “I wouldn’t have asked you if this wasn’t critical. If we can secure this alliance, we’ll have a very large worry put to rest.”
Daro nodded as he strapped his sword belt around his waist, then put on his baldric, securing the still-wrapped sword to his back.
“Are you sure you don’t want to unwrap that one?” Alastair asked. “Or leave it behind?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Katalis is,” he paused and glanced over his shoulder, “more than a sword.”
Alastair’s eyebrow raised. “Katalis? You named the sword?”
“I know it sounds odd,” Daro said. “It seemed like the right thing to do.” He contemplated telling Alastair more about the sword, but hesitated. Would his friend think him crazy?
The door opened and a young man peeked his head inside. “They are ready.”
Daro blew out a breath and adjusted his belt, feeling the weight of the Heorun blade at his hip. He wasn’t sure what to expect; he simply wanted to get the show over with so they could return home.
The doors opened from the other side and Daro walked into a massive hall, well-lit by a host of flickering torches lining the walls. Thick timbers supported the high ceiling and the stands surrounding the oval arena were full to bursting. A thundering roar of voices washed over him as he walked out to the center of the dirt floor, and he realized Alastair had not followed him out. He stood before the Thayans alone.
Alastair had briefed him on the proper procedure beforehand, but the noise made it hard to concentrate. Finding his center, he breathed deep and relaxed his shoulders. He pulled in a surge of energy and let it course through his body, reveling in the sense of strength it gave him. He turned to face the dais where Warlord Henju would be sitting, and bowed at the waist, careful not to lower his face.
Henju stood and held his arms up to silence the crowd. His thick fur cloak hung from his shoulders and he wore a leather band around his forehead. The noise died down as he waited, keeping his arms raised.
“Daro Imaran,” he said, his booming voice carrying across the wide arena, “you have claimed the Heorun blades of two Thayan warriors.”
The crowd erupted in jeers and boos and the arena rumbled as the spectators stomped their feet. Henju held his arms up for silence again.
“We must know if you are worthy to carry these sacred weapons. Therefore, we challenge you to combat. What say you?”
Daro drew the Heorun sword from its sheath and placed it tip down, his hands on the hilt. “Let it be decided by our blades.”
A hush fell over the crowd as if they collectively held their breath. “Let it be decided.” Henju’s voice rang out and the crowd erupted in shouts and cheers.
On the other side of the arena, another door opened and six armed warriors emerged. All wore a mix of leather and chainmail armor and carried large Heorun swords, marking them as elite warriors of Thaya. Daro was surprised to see that the Thayan in the center was a woman. Slightly smaller than the men, she was svelte with a thick mass of blond hair tied back from her face.
Daro’s heart thundered in his chest as he hefted his sword. The Heoru all burned with energy, their bodies poised for battle. They spread out along the side of the arena, none of them taking their ey
es off Daro as he stood in the center and waited for the signal to begin.
The sharp sound of a horn rang out, and the first Heoru charged forward. Daro watched him with his Imaran Sight, and the flow of energy told him the direction of his attack. Bringing his heavy blade up as his opponent struck, Daro blocked and sidestepped, letting the Heoru lunge past. The man recovered quickly and swung again, his weapon clanging against Daro’s. Daro changed direction, ducking beneath the Heoru’s attack, and hit him with the flat of his sword. The force knocked the Heoru sideways, and Daro surged in to keep him from regaining his balance. With a quick swipe, Daro disarmed his opponent and kicked the sword away.
The crowd noise swelled as the first Heoru retrieved his sword and stepped back toward the wall. The second walked forward, his gait full of the assurance of experience. Daro didn’t wait for him to attack, but lunged for him; their swords clashed with a metallic clang. Power flowed through him as he fought, lending him strength and speed, and the second Heoru was soon on his back, his sword knocked aside in the dirt.
As the next man approached, Daro could sense the crowd coming around to him, their shouts melting together in an incoherent roar. The man charged, his sword streaking through the air, but Daro was faster. Metal hit metal with a loud clang, and Daro’s arms began to loosen with the effort. As the Heoru turned Daro’s strike aside, Daro retreated, only to lunge forward again, catching the man on the chin with his fist. Taking advantage of his close proximity, Daro turned his shoulder into the Heoru and knocked his blade wide, hitting the other man in the chest with a solid blow. The Heoru staggered backward and Daro pressed his attack, smashing the man’s nose with the hilt of his sword. Blood spurted from his face and Daro retreated, waiting for his next opponent.
The next man lasted longer than the others, but Daro’s Sight allowed him to predict his opponent’s movements. With the split-second warning, he dodged and parried, so the Heoru’s attacks never landed. Daro caught the other man off balance after a missed swing, and knocked him to the ground with a heavy blow.