King of Lions

by Malcolm W. Keyes

  Rosetta’s low moan made the hairs on Keaton’s neck stand up. “Oooh no.”

  “Stand firm,” Keaton said. “We’ll hear him out.”

  Tears were coming into Rosetta’s eyes. She blinked them away and nodded.

  Mantis certainly didn’t look like he wanted to talk. The shadows turned his eyes into black slits beneath his furrowed brow. He dismounted, and somehow managed to make even this motion violent. The nearby Bralla hissed at the horse, and it bayed back at them.

  Mantis came forward, his swords flanking him like wings.

  “King of Lions,” Mantis said. “I’ve heard some disturbing news that I would like to discuss with you.”

  “Call me Keaton,” Keaton said. “I’m not the King of Lions anymore.”

  Mantis looked genuinely hurt by this. “So it is true. Are you so afraid to fight me?”

  Keaton thought carefully about his reply. Showing a willingness to fight might be dangerous in this situation, but maybe more so if he showed fear.

  “My time is done, Mantis,” he said.

  Mantis reeled, as if hearing this physically hurt him.

  “It’s your time now,” Keaton continued. “I hear they’re setting up an interesting bout to decide who will hold the crown. You and Mindragus, I believe.”

  Mantis shut his eyes and seethed. “Mindragus is a careerist. He’s dodged every difficult opponent the Circuit threw at him on his way to the crown. He’s a franchise, built on easy victories over weak men. I’ll crush him in seconds.”

  “The crown is as good as yours then,” Keaton said. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “What I want?”

  Mantis drew his swords and slammed them into the ground, sending up a whirlwind of sand. Keaton’s sword was in his hand like lightning.

  Mantis’s voice was a roar. “I want you, King of Lions! I promised my grandfather on his deathbed that I would defeat you to become the next King of Lions! I made that vow in the presence of my father, and I will do anything to keep it!”

  “If you kill me here, you would still not be King. You will be a murderer and the courts will hang you.”

  Mantis smiled. “I will be King in my heart.”

  “For the short time it continues to beat,” Keaton said. “Consider your life, Mantis. If you die, everything ends. Your pride, your glory, all of it gone.”

  “I made a public mockery of your little Fox over there, and this is all you can do? Try to manipulate me into walking away? You are not the man I thought you were.”

  Rosetta must have seen something in Keaton’s face, because she edged forward and said, “Don’t, Keaton.”

  Mantis swung at her. Keaton intercepted the blow with his sword. Steel crashed together.

  “Do, Keaton!” Mantis said, imitating Rosetta’s voice with surprising accuracy. “Fight, Keaton!”

  Rosetta had been right. That single blow told Keaton everything he needed to know about Mantis. In a decade and a half in the ring, Keaton had never felt anything like it.

  And now the fight had begun.

  Keaton circled away, his feet dancing over the sand. A heavy blade almost took his head off.

  “I’ve studied all your notations, King of Lions,” Mantis said, taking another swing. “They were my bedtime stories.”

  When Mantis swung this time, Keaton rolled under it and tried to sink his sword into Mantis’s liver. Mantis spun with Keaton’s blow, turning the stab into a slice. Blood flowed, but it was not nearly the strike Keaton had expected to land. Mantis’s hip movement was fast, maybe the fastest Keaton had seen.

  Mantis swept his hand across the wound spread the blood across his chest. “Yes!” he shouted. “King of Lions, yes! This is already the best fight I’ve ever had.”

  Mantis came forward with a flurry that Keaton had seen him use in the ring, unfailingly killing the recipient. Keaton didn’t have time to retreat. He stepped between the whirling blades of Mantis’s swords, working the angles, looking for counters, and seeing none. Rosetta was right, his Riddance was perfect. One of his blades came too close, and Keaton was forced to block with his sword. The blow sent him sliding backwards in the dirt, his shoulder ringing with pain. It felt like being run over by a cart.

  Keaton looked up to see wonder on Mantis’s face.

  “You’re alive,” Mantis said, almost tearfully. “Thank you, King of Lions. This is an honor.”

  Keaton looked over Mantis’s shoulder in time to see Rosetta, eyes ablaze, darting forward with her sword. He wanted to call out to her, to tell her to stay back, but she was committed to her attack, and he didn’t want to risk alerting Mantis to her presence. He watched as she sailed toward him.

  Mantis threw a spinning kick, and his shin caught her in the mouth. Her legs gave out and she crumpled bonelessly to the ground, eyes open to the desert sun overhead. She gasped for breath with a sound almost like snoring, but her eyes remained blank.

  Keaton grimaced, but didn’t take his eyes off of Mantis.

  “Did you think I had forgotten about you, little Fox?” Mantis said. “Men like us don’t forget, do we, King of Lions?”

  Keaton shut out Mantis’s words, breathed out slowly, and thought about how to beat him. Riddance was useless. When all things were equal, the bigger man would win, and Mantis was every bit the Riddance stylist he was. Atonement locks would be suicide against a man this freakishly strong. Keaton had never seen Mau Oolau tactics in Mantis’s fights, but that kick he had just used to knock out Rosetta had looked more than natural. Orthodox would be too basic. What did he have that Mantis didn’t?

  “Trying to puzzle me out, King of Lions?” Mantis asked.

  “Stop calling me that.”

  Experience. That was what he had on Mantis. Mantis had never been in the academy, never served on the guard, never had to deal with the sneaky tactics of the Sandits out on the dunes.

  “It’s what you are!” Mantis shouted, and brought his sword down hard.

  Keaton somersaulted out of the way, and as he did, he opened his mouth, allowing it to fill with sand. He took a handful of sand in his free hand as well, and when Mantis advanced, he threw the sand into his face. Mantis closed his eyes, and the sand washed harmlessly over his face.

  “Really?” Mantis said, chuckling. “That kind of dirty—”

  Keaton spit the sand in his mouth directly into Mantis’s eyes. Mantis reeled backward, swinging his swords in a whirlwind. Even with Mantis temporarily blinded, Keaton couldn’t get close enough to deal a deathblow. Instead, he timed one of the flailing swords and intercepted the hand that held it.

  Mantis roared as three of his fingers dropped to the sand. He managed to wipe the sand out of his reddened eyes and was looking at Keaton with a mixture of rage, respect, gratitude, and—worst of all—focus.

  “You were trained for the ring,” Keaton said. “But this isn’t the ring.”

  Keaton spun in the direction of Mantis’s unarmed hand, looked directly at his neck as if planning to strike there, then drove his blade through the top of Mantis’s foot. Mantis was surprised—that blow was illegal in the Circuit.

  Mantis lashed out with his remaining sword, but he couldn’t pivot properly with his foot pinned to the ground, and the angle was awkward. Keaton easily dodged the blow, retrieved his sword and rolled back to his feet ready to fight.

  Then Mantis’s sword was flying toward him through the air.

  Keaton had no time to think. He brought his sword up to block the blow, intercepting the sharp edge of the blade, but the sheer weight of the blade caused it to roll, striking Keaton in the side, and he felt his ribs crunch beneath the dull backside of the blade.

  Keaton went to his knees, trying to will the air back into his lungs. Mantis had thrown his sword; that was also illegal in the ring.

  “I’m a fast learner, King of Lions,” Mantis said. “I’ll fight by whatever rules are agreed upon, even none.”

  Mantis limped forward and picked up his other sword in
his good hand.

  For a moment, Keaton thought he might be blacking out—a black spot had appeared in the sand behind Mantis, but on a second look—Keaton would have cheered if he had had breath to cheer with—he saw Emerick riding toward them, slithering back and forth on his Bralla at an incredible pace. Emerick had seen Mantis, then. Help was on the way. Keaton just hoped he had done enough damage that Emerick’s presence would even make a difference.

  In the sand, Rosetta was waking up, her hand clenching and unclenching on her sword. She was still confused, but understanding was beginning to dawn on her face.

  Keaton forced himself to his feet and sucked in a labored breath. He wouldn’t be able to fight half as well with his ribs broken, but he had to keep Mantis focused on him long enough for Rosetta to wake up and Emerick to arrive.

  Mantis waved with his ruined hand. “I don’t need two hands to defeat you, King of Lions.”

  When Mantis rushed forward—paying no heed to his injured foot, it seemed—Keaton almost believed the feint Mantis threw with his sword. It was only at the last moment that Keaton realized Mantis was setting up a leg kick. Keaton raised his leg to check the kick, and collided shins with Mantis.

  Keaton’s shin snapped.

  He fell backward onto the ground. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt. It filled up the whole world. He grabbed handfuls of sand and squeezed them so hard he felt as if he could fuse them into glass. Somewhere, distantly, he could hear Rosetta calling his name.

  Through everything—Rosetta’s cries, the throbbing in his leg, the sharp pain in his ribs, the glaring sun—Keaton could hear Mantis whispering to himself.

  “Look, grandfather. I’ve done it. I am worthy after all, academy or no academy. I am the King of Lions. Be proud of me.”

  Keaton heard a series of soft thumps and looked up to see four throwing knives sticking out of Mantis’s back. Behind him, Emerick was in a Mau Oolau stance, drawing a heavy sword from his Bralla’s saddle.

  “From Oolau, with my compliments,” Emerick said.

  Mantis turned around in time to see Rosetta’s sword flying at him through the air. He put up his bloody arm to block, and the sword gouged a triangle-shaped hole in his tricep. He looked down at the wounds with eerie detachment.

  “The problem with throwing your weapon is you don’t have it anymore,” he said, looking in Rosetta’s direction. “I had two swords; that was your only one. And really, what did it accomplish?”

  Keaton sat up and threw his sword as well, burying it in Mantis’s shoulder. Mantis reached back and pulled it out. It was a good blow, but not enough.

  Ancients in the sky, Keaton thought. What would be enough?

  “Don’t be impatient, King of Lions,” Mantis said.

  “He’s not your opponent now,” Emerick said. “I am.”

  Mantis walked forward, faked a kick, and disarmed Emerick with a quick motion of his sword. When Emerick dropped low to shoot in for a take-down, Mantis put his boot in Emerick’s face. Emerick fell, but he was a brawler, and one kick—even a kick from Mantis—wasn’t enough to put him out of the fight. He rolled to his feet and began to move toward his sword.

  Mantis’s stance was clear. If Emerick picked up that sword, Mantis would take his head.

  “Emerick, no,” Keaton said, his voice hoarse. “It’s okay. Take Rosetta, and get out of here.”

  “Keaton!” Rosetta cried. “Keaton, what do I do?! How do I beat him?! How do I save you?!”

  “You don’t,” Keaton said, tears coming into his eyes. “I love you, Rosetta. Go live.”

  “I love you, Keaton!” she said, voice cracking. “I love you!”

  "Go, baby,” Keaton said. “It’s all okay.”

  “Listen to your man,” Mantis said. "Both of you, go. I have no fight with you.”

  The sky suddenly grew dark overhead, and everyone turned to look at Emerick. His hair and clothing were beginning to float around him weightlessly, as if he were underwater. A lone cloud was growing in the sky, swirling above them like ink in water.

  “You’re standing over my brother,” Emerick said. His voice had taken on an odd ringing quality—like a church bell—and it was deafening. “He’s battered and bloodied, and you did it to him, Mantis! You!”

  Mantis watched curiously, his remaining sword at the ready. His eyes darted between Emerick and the immense cloud hovering overhead. As Keaton watched, a lightning bolt snaked its way along the cloud’s surface.

  Emerick stood at the center of a whirlwind now. The hair blowing back from his face was turning white, strand by strand, root to tip. The lines in his face grew deeper.

  Keaton opened his mouth to speak, to tell Emerick to stop, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. Emerick’s voice was the only sound in the world now, that and the crashing of thunder. Keaton wasn’t sure where one sound ended and the other began.

  “How can you say your fight’s not with me?!” Emerick roared. “That’s my brother, Mantis! THAT’S MY BROTHER!”

  Mantis took a step back, and the cloud was on him, tendrils shooting out to bind his arms and legs. Mantis fought, but his sword passed through the tethers without effect as the cloud jerked him violently into the air. Mantis continued to fight until the tendrils had completely enveloped him.

  Then there was silence. Emerick stood with his hands outstretched, looking decades older than he had a moment before. The cloud drifted lazily out over the cliffs, and when it drifted over the lake, Emerick dropped his hands. The tendrils of the cloud let go, and Mantis fell into the lake. The Blue Pilikia warmed him like bees, climbing over him, stinging him. Mantis fought his way to shore, and collapsed there, face down in the shallow water as the Pilikia climbed all over him, stinging and nipping with their claws.

  When Emerick fell, Rosetta ran to him.

  “I didn’t know people could do that without a Wellspring,” she said.

  Keaton answered through tears. “They can’t.”

  “He’s not breathing!” Rosetta said.

  Keaton crawled toward his fallen friend. “The poultices, Rosetta! Use them! Put them on his head.”

  “Ancients, Keaton, he’s boiling,” Rosetta said.

  “I know,” Keaton said. “The Sandits used to do this, teach somebody just enough of the Current to get themselves hurt. Stupid. Why did he do that?”

  Rosetta worked to rip open the corn husk coverings of the poultices and apply them to Emerick’s forehead. Keaton opened the last of the poultices and laid it over Emerick’s bare chest.

  “We met in training,” Keaton said, shaking his head. “Started sparring together, hit it off, just like a million other guys. I’ve never done anything for him that made me worth doing this. I don’t understand.”

  Rosetta scooted beside Keaton, and he put his arm around her. Down by the lakeshore, Mantis’s body floated lifelessly in the shallows. Overhead, the Cloud Tether charm Emerick had manifested was floating away into the sky, fading as it climbed.

  “You were friends,” Rosetta said.

  “We are,” Keaton said. “We are friends.”

  Until today, he hadn’t really understood what that word “friend” meant, how far it went, how powerful it was.

  “What do we do now?” Rosetta asked.

  Keaton wiped his eyes, and watched Emerick’s chest, hoping to see the slightest rise and fall, the tiniest hint that his friend was alive.

  He watched for a long time.

  ~

  Rosetta’s coronation was the Swordsman’s Circuit event of the year—a chance to make up for some of the damage Mantis had done to its public image, Keaton guessed. It had taken their public relations people months to clean up the mess, and all fights were put on hold, giving Rosetta time for a full training camp. Even though Keaton could not spar effectively on his bad leg, he could still coach Rosetta from ringside as she sparred with the women he had chosen for her.

  Rosetta had won her crown with footwork, angles, and quick thrusts. She defe
nded herself brilliantly, frustrating the former Queen of Foxes into making mistakes. Eroshi bled out in the fifth round, and the Order was able to stabilize her and get her to the infirmary in time to save her life. Rosetta had been proud of that, and said so in her post-fight interviews, that killing was not the point. She was quick to give Keaton credit for her progress, a compliment he always deflected. When reporters asked Keaton if there was a “different kind of ring in Rosetta’s future”—they always thought they were the first ones to make this joke—Keaton would respond by saying, “When it comes to Rosetta, anything is possible.”

  When the coronation was over, Keaton and Rosetta rode across town in a carriage—Keaton still couldn’t walk without a cane, despite all the Order had done to try and fix his leg—in the direction of Emerick’s house, to see how Maya and the kids were doing, and to deliver the leftover cake they had taken from the party.

  “How do you feel, Queen of Foxes?” Keaton asked during the ride.

  “Legitimized,” Rosetta said. “And kind of heavy.”

  “I know.”

  “And I will never get used to this ‘Queen of Foxes’ business.”

  Keaton smiled. “You’re right, you won’t.”

  “Thank you,” Rosetta said. “For seeing something in me.”

  “It was all downhill after you got me drunk at Emerick’s retirement party,” Keaton said. “I had no resistance.”

  Rosetta slugged him in the shoulder, then kissed the place she had just hit.

  “I deserved that.”

  “You did,” she said. “The punch and the kiss.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  When they arrived at Emerick’s house, Eelu, the youngest of the daughters, opened the door.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Rosetta said. “Is your mother home?”

  “Mom!” Eelu shouted, the volume of her voice out of all proportion. “Keaton and Rosetta are here!”

  “Take this cake and put it in the kitchen,” Rosetta said, handing Eelu the cake.

  Maya came around the corner with the rest of the girls, smiling widely. “What did you bring me, Queen of Foxes?”

  “Not you too, Maya,” Rosetta said.

  “Cake from the party,” Keaton said.

  “Somebody just said cake.” Emerick rolled around the corner in his wheeled chair. His girls swarmed him, climbing into his lap and giving him kisses on his lined and age-spotted cheeks.