by Tia Reed
“I challenge the leadership,” Harz called.
Draykan snorted. “I’ll not fight the ill.”
Harz rushed headlong at Draykan. A simple sidestep and extended foot tripped the addict.
“You see how weak the drug leaves our finest,” Draykan said.
He was losing judgement. In not bothering to check Hartz, he had made a mistake. Harz leapt on him from behind. The ceremonial spear flew from his hand as they tumbled to the ground. Far from wasted, Harz pummelled his fists into Draykan with a furious strength. Draykan lay trapped beneath the crazed man, unable to hit back. Tradition maintained they fight to the death. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Draykan feared that Harz’s delirious state might mean his own demise. Then a hard elbow to the chest tipped Harz’s balance enough for Draykan to roll over and force Harz beneath him. Twisting so that they lay face to face, Draykan released a punch that Harz blocked with his arm. They wrestled and grunted, until Draykan managed to slip an arm across Harz’s neck. Bringing a knee up, he dropped his weight down, choking the man with whom he had once hunted side by side. Harz’s face turned deeper shades of purple as he rasped for air. When he was on the brink of passing out, Draykan released him, picked up the spear and stood.
“Leave,” Draykan ordered.
“No.” Lelola grabbed Harz’s arm, and half helped, half pulled him up.
“I challenge the leadership,” Vorn said from the ground.
“I challenge too,” Lutham said.
“And I,” another voice added.
“There are too many of us,” Harz said. “The Ho’akerin keep the drug.”
Draykan looked at the hostile faces surrounding him. How devastating was his failure. This was no challenge. It was a revolt. In the face of such opposition, he could not prevail. Weary, he climbed upon the rock and threw the spear as far as he could. The tip buried itself in dirt, beyond the furthest lingering tribesman.
“Choose your new leader,” he said, his heart breaking as he stepped down from the role he had assumed as a not-so-young man. He would not, could not stay here in this tribe he no longer recognised, which no longer offered respect. If need be, he would travel far to the north where the drug might not yet have a hold. There were others who might care to come.
“You have no authority,” Vila said to Harz. “You lost the challenge.”
“I have the weight of numbers behind me.”
Vila sat upon the rock, her limbs too stiff to climb. “You do not honour the tradition of the tribe. If you flout our laws, it is you who must leave, and all who seek to adopt your new ways. This is the home of the Ho’akerin. It will shelter the people who follow its ways.”
“Bah,” Vorn said. “You have no say. You are an old woman.”
“Oh doesn’t she?” ancient Farina croaked.
One by one, the elderly women came forth, voicing their support for Vila. As if not to be outdone, the elderly men raised fists high in the air, their hunter’s salute directed to Draykan. Erok and Brax and their friends came forth, and the whole tribe took a stance. At the last, Draykan noted with a tear in his eye, there were equal numbers on each side of the speaking rock. He shook his head. That it had come to this.
Ishoa stepped between the two factions, raising her staff high. The soothsayer stalked through the crowd, crouched steps and stealthy turns locking her sightless white eyes upon the ringleaders. The wind began to screech. The distant wolves howled. The grass grew and tangled about the feet of the dissenters. The sky darkened to grey. Emitting a frightful keen, Ishoa jabbed her staff into the ground. It trembled beneath them, and the young and the frail fell.
“Begone, you who would defile the spirits. Begone, they say.” Her words rang with the authority of Forest, Sky, Earth and Water. Under the curse, the dissenters fled in every direction, into the forest, down the valley, up the rocks. It was a long drop of the sun before anyone found the courage to speak. Ishoa was yet standing, staff pointed after the outcasts when Erok brought Draykan his spear. His son dropped to one knee, the spear laid across both hands.
“Leader of my tribe,” Erok said, the formal bestowing of a leadsman’s title.
“You must find the Five Tribes of the Akerin,” Draykan told his son, one eye on the frightful figure of the soothsayer. “Go immediately. Tell them what has come to pass and bid their leaders come. If we are to survive this, the Akerin must be of one accord.”
Ishoa turned and fixed him with an unerring gaze. “It will not be enough.” Slowly, so slowly, like a blind woman three times her age, she shambled from the Meeting Field.
Draykan could only watch with a growing sense of doom.
Chapter Twenty-nine
A mahktashaan guard with a nut-brown crystal hurried into the Room of Ceremony, halted, and stomped his right foot. “All praise to Mahktos. All honour to you, Majoria. The Shah requests the immediate presence of Majoria, Minoria and Prince Vinsant in Princess Kordahla’s chambers.”
“Uh oh,” Vinsant muttered under mask of the guard’s second stomp and sharp salute. There was no question what the matter was. Tempers were likely to fray in the next few minutes, and that meant a very inconvenient delay in answers, for days, for eight-days even. He sidled into the archway after the mahktashaan in the hope of slowing Levi’s exit long enough to force an answer. The guard paused in mid step and turned back, the curious creases at his eyes smoothing to wonder. Vinsant removed his hand from his crystal. The crimson illumination died. A pity the crystals in the sconces gave enough light for him to see the guard drop to one knee and, as the Inner Circle before him had done, intone, “All praise to Mahktos.”
“Oh, turd of a scumhopper,” Vinsant said, making frantic gestures for the man to rise. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” A moment of astonished and rather uncomfortable silence ensued, during which Vinsant found his annoyance rising in equal measure with his alarm. Then Strauss laughed out loud.
“It seems our young friend still has much to learn,” the jovial mahktashaan said.
Vinsant looked around to find merriment on the faces around him. His brows knitted together. “I know, and Mahktos said I must train well. But I intend to do better. Really I do.” He hoped he was not the slap of a joke he would never understand.
“We know, Vinsant,” Arun said before addressing the newcomer. “Perhaps you could humbly request the Shah’s indulgence.”
“With respect, Minoria,” Nut-brown Crystal said. “The Shah has made it explicit your attendance was required yesterday. He is calling for mahktashaan blood.”
“Robe him,” Levi ordered, pointing at Vinsant. Vinsant blinked but the shortest mahktashaan was already disrobing. He helped Vinsant don the ridiculously large gown. Even rolling up the sleeves and tucking the hem of the garment into his churidar did little to prevent him stumbling after Levi and Arun. The way his bottom was padded out, Naikil was sure to make some jibe about him being in swaddling clothes.
“You will keep that hood up,” Levi said.
“Am I in more trouble?” Vinsant asked Arun.
The Minoria looked over his shoulder without missing a step. “That depends,” he said. “Do you have any idea what has the Shah so upset?”
The Shah was upset indeed. Vinsant had never seen him in so foul a mood. Karie and Samille were huddled on the quilted spread on the poster bed, gazing in fear at their ruler, whose nostrils were flaring wide across his purple face. The girls weren’t even sparing a glance for Mariano, and Vinsant knew from Kordahla they normally could not keep their eyes off the hotshot heir to the throne, even Karie who made google eyes at one of the mahktashaan. His arrogant, handsome brother was staring at Ahkdul, who was leaning forward, his fists clenched and his red face tense enough to split open if he tried to speak a single word. In front of them all, on a shadowed area of the cold, stone floor, two mahktashaan knelt, heads dipped so low their chins touched their chest.
Levi and Arun halted at the edge of the rug. “Majesty,” Levi said, as he
and Arun bowed low. Vinsant decided it was a good time to show the utmost respect, and followed suit.
“Princess Kordahla is missing,” the Shah said. “From what I can gather from this group of incompetent imbeciles, she was last in your company, Minoria.”
Arun bowed his hooded head in acknowledgement. “She was, Majesty, until late last night.”
“And what, pray tell, was the betrothed Princess of Terlaan doing in your company at such an hour?” Vinsant winced at the uncharacteristic bite in the Shah’s tone. Karie and Samille drew their legs onto the bed and huddled tighter together.
“The Princess was disturbed by the earlier events of the day. She was seeking both counsel and reassurance about the djinn.”
The Shah’s eyes narrowed. “And you decided to check on her state of mind? After sundown?” Vinsant felt his stomach churn. How could Father put his sister’s honour at stake like that? The Majoria and Minoria were sworn to protect the royal family. Tradition held them, of all men, above reproach when mingling with the women of the household.
One of the kneeling guards shuffled. “Majesty, I fetched the Minoria at the Princess’s request,” he said.
“Did you return her to this room, Minoria?”
“I did not. The matter of Prince Vinsant’s safety drew my attention. I left the Princess at the northern walls as I dived into the lake after the prince took a fall.”
Vinsant would not have believed Father’s anger could grow, but his eyes almost bulged from their sockets as he looked at his youngest child. “What foolery is this?” he snarled when Arun was done relating the night’s events. He strode towards Vinsant and grabbed at his arm but caught only the wide fabric of the sleeve.
“The boy will remain robed,” Levi said with all the authority of his position.
“His sister is missing and he is the last to claim to see her. I will look upon his face when I question him,” the Shah said, yanking the hood down.
Vinsant gurgled as the Shah stumbled back. Mahktos had to have turned him into a toad or a puffer, the way Father was spluttering. He didn’t think he could live with himself if that was the price he had to pay.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Shah demanded at last.
Vinsant wanted to add his voice to that demand but, with Father in his current mood, leaping into the conversation uninvited was a spectacularly bad idea. Father was clutching the carved bedpost so tight, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it snapped in two.
“It is a mahktashaan matter,” Levi responded.
“Djinn roam my halls, my daughter goes missing and my younger son appears robed before me to hide his face, and you dare tell me it is not my concern.”
Vinsant made an exaggerated openhanded shrug while mouthing a screamed What? Any other day he would have been glad his brother started. Today, he was relieved Mariano recovered super quick and pointed at Kordahla’s dresser. He shuffled across the room with no grace whatsoever, the doubled hem of the overlong gown catching beneath his feet. Hitching up the sleeves, he picked up Kordahla’s looking glass and surveyed his completely normal looking hands. He was pleased to note the robe was so voluminous that his fear of looking like a swaddled child was groundless. He would have to parade past the other apprentices before Levi made him take it off. Then he caught sight of his quartz. Opaque quartz it was, but instead of the creamy pink stone he and the other apprentices had received at their initiation, this one was crimson. Like Mahktos eyes crimson. Naikil and Gram were going to be mega jealous! He tilted the looking glass to practice his smirk. And in his shock promptly dropped it.
“Stinking scumhopper droppings!” His heart beating wild, he picked up the cracked glass and studied the segments which reflected his eyes. Whichever way he turned it, his irises, all praise to Mahktos, were a crimson that matched the stone. He dropped the glass on the inlaid dresser and spun to face Levi and Arun.
“What’s going on?” he asked, wilting as the two kneeling mahktashaan sang the god’s praises.
“I think I know who my Majoria will be,” Mariano said, glancing at Levi.
Father had turned white. It didn’t suit him any better than purple. “How is this possible? It takes years to train as a mahktashaan. You said so yourself.”
“Mahktos has marked Mahktashaan Apprentice Prince Vinsant for his own.” Levi’s voice was strained, like this was a bad thing. He stepped onto the rug, turning to face Vinsant. “Twice, this young apprentice has stood in the presence of the god and lived to tell the tale.” Now he sounded almost jealous. Looked it too, from what Vinsant could glimpse of the glint in those black eyes under the hanging hood. Vinsant took a step back. He was beginning to think his apprenticeship would be simpler with a plain piece of quartz around his neck. “Mahktos’s favour is bound to be of import,” Levi continued in his breathy, gravelly voice, “but I gauge the matter of Princess Kordahla more pressing.”
Speechless, but drained of anger, thank the Vae, Father ogled Vinsant. “Was Kordahla in your room last night?”
Vinsant shook his head. “I lied,” he said, deciding the truth was best in the presence of parent and master. “He was hanging about,” he said, folding his arms and thrusting his chin towards Ahkdul. The swine looked like an ogre even in neat, decent dress. “She doesn’t like him. She doesn’t want to marry him.”
“That is a declaration I would hear from her own lips, in front of this entire company,” Ahkdul said.
“She’s already said so,” Vinsant said, snorting the words. “Not that any of you care what she thinks.”
“Enough!” the Shah roared. “You are not too old for a thrashing.”
If Vinsant had learned anything about Father over the years, it was that he made no idle threats. He glowered at them both because no way was he willing to submit to the humiliation in front of the pervert.
Levi tapped one of the kneeling mahktashaan on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. The man rose and left the room.
Vinsant didn’t understand why Father couldn’t see right through Ahkdul’s calculating calm. “If you wish to withdraw from our agreement, I would know now,” the swine said. “Otherwise, I demand she be punished for this dereliction. And know, for all your understanding of my nature, Shah Wilshem, I will not wed a dishonoured woman.”
The Shah, pacing from one of the bedroom rugs to the other, did not spare Ahkdul a glance. “There is blood honour to uphold. If she has disgraced her title and family, I will mete out justice myself.”
Vinsant sidled to Mariano. His brother would have chosen to stand in a patch of light. “What’s going to happen?” he asked while Father yelled for one page after another, and sent them off to unlikely destinations, from the stables to the dungeons.
Mariano looked at him as though he were a problem child. Under the circumstances, with his crimson eyes and mahktashaan robe, Vinsant thought that rather inappropriate. “We’re going to look for her. Do you know anything about this?” Vinsant shook his head. One could not trust a brother who wanted to serve up one’s prize grapper for dinner. When Mariano said, “This time, she has gone too far,” he was glad he had chosen not to confide.
The mahktashaan Levi had dispatched returned with another and resumed his place next to his kneeling comrade.
“You were stationed at the gate, last night,” the Shah said. It was not a question.
“Majesty, Princess Kordahla came to the gate to check on Prince Vinsant. When a genie appeared and seized the Princess’s veil, I gave chase.”
“You left your post unguarded. You left the Princess alone. Outside the gate.” The Shah’s voice was dangerously low and his face had coloured again. “Majoria, these men are in dereliction of their duty.”
“Mahktos is exacting. Mahktos is just,” the Majoria said. Vinsant began to panic.
Sure enough, the three mahktashaan, despondent resignation in their voices, answered with “All praise to Mahktos.” The Majoria held out his hand. One by one, they removed their crystals from around
their neck and looped the thong over Levi’s hand. Then they rose and followed the Majoria from the room.
“What’s going to happen to those Mahktashaan?” Vinsant asked Arun as Father stormed from the room and everyone else, except Karie and Samille, began to disperse. The dumb girls were weeping, like that was going to help anyone.
“They are to be put to death.”
“Because I lied?” Vinsant asked, his eyes wide. He thought he might cry too.
“No. Because they failed in their duty to protect the Princess. Regardless of what you claimed, they should have checked after her safety. As should have I.”
“Father doesn’t blame you, does he?”
“I’m sure he does. But your little prank absolved my leaving her. I am lucky that was inside the gates. Had it been outside, I would share their fate. You are well aware a mahktashaan’s first task is to protect the royal family. Now report to Branak. You are to keep the hood up and to avoid discussing anything that befell you before Mahktos. If he’s busy, tell him I said to give you Guntek’s tome on the crystals.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to join the search for Princess Kordahla.”
Chapter Thirty
Dawn broke with amazing speed, an explosion of red that, were Kordahla to believe the tales, portended an ill-fated day. The horse was dragging its dusty hooves after hours of travel on the straight, southbound road. In front of her, Timak dozed, his fragile body sagging against her. Yawning, she glanced over her shoulder as she had done with constant fear throughout the night. They were in plain view of farmers beginning their daily toil in burgeoning fields of wheat. Catching sight of her black robe, the peasants downed their tools and dropped to one knee. Kordahla lowered her hooded head, drew the cloak across her shoulders and forced herself to ride a dirt road towards a ramshackle cottage. The arrogant mahktashaan would have done no less. She clenched her jaw as a worn woman emerged, her young ones clinging to her skirt while she deposited a small loaf of bread and hunk of cheese in their path. With a wary nod, she backed into the house.