The Fires of Vengeance

by Evan Winter

  “Good. Help me up, both of you. Before we march, Queen Tsiora will meet with her council for war. Things have changed, and our plans will as well. I need to be part of that discussion. Take me to them.”

  BATTLES

  It didn’t matter that she was blind. Tau’s mother insisted on helping the priestess take him to the war council. She stumbled a bit, and though he was the one being helped, Imani was the one slowing their pace. But soon after they arrived, Tau realized why she’d insisted on coming.

  Imani wanted to get to know the players in the game. She’d done the same in Kerem, and almost impossibly for a High Common, she’d risen from being just another handmaiden to becoming one of the fief’s chief administrators in less than a cycle.

  The large tent, intended for the army’s military leaders, was close to the same size as the queen’s own. It was, however, dyed black, matching the Indlovu’s sense of aesthetics and pride over sense. Dyed black canvas in the broiling heat of Xidda made the interior of Indlovu campaign tents feel more like humid caves than shaded relief from the day.

  When Hafsa and his mother walked him in, the heat hit him like an adobe wall.

  “They sent no Edifiers to the last two meetings,” Nyah was saying. “No one from Palm’s Shadow Council came, and that worries me.”

  Everyone in the room was sitting on thin cushions set around a low table, but Tsiora had a thick, plush cushion that raised her higher than the rest.

  “Tau?” asked Hadith, turning on his cushion. “You’re up already?” He caught Hafsa’s attention. “Please, leave the tent flaps open. It’s already too hot in here.”

  Sitting closest to the door was a grizzled full-blood Ihashe who, though freshly shaven, had the type of face that never seemed clear of stubble. Beside him was Uduak, and Tau figured that Hadith had put the big man in charge of the Ayim while he was recovering. Uduak was next to Kellan, who would lead the Indlovu among them, and beyond them were Thandi, Nyah, and the queen.

  “Should you not be resting?” Tsiora asked. She’d leaned forward on her cushion when he’d walked in.

  Instinctively, Tau began to bow but abandoned the attempt when his stitches pulled. “My queen,” he said, one eye pinched shut against the stinging in his side.

  “Should he not be resting, Priestess?” Tsiora asked Hafsa.

  Hafsa glared at Imani, and though his mother could no longer see, Tau would have wagered that she knew exactly what the priestess was doing.

  “There was insistence that he attend,” Hafsa said, bowing.

  “I’m fine,” Tau told the room while still speaking mostly to Tsiora as he limped to the unoccupied cushion to her right and lowered himself to the floor. “Scratches, nothing more.”

  “Scratches!” Hafsa said. “Those are a good deal more than …” The priestess seemed to recall the company in which she found herself. “Your wounds are not life-threatening, I’ll grant that, but how can you expect to heal properly without rest? You want so badly to rush back to battle, but your body is not at its best.”

  “Perhaps the priestess is right,” said Nyah, from the left side of the queen. “Queen Tsiora … as we’d discussed, it may be better if the champion does not—”

  Tau couldn’t let Nyah sway the queen but also didn’t want to challenge her directly. So he used Hafsa as a proxy.

  “Priestess, a fighter who will only go into battle when they’re at their best fights for pleasure and not principle,” he said. “The things worth fighting for die in darkness if we’ll only defend them in the sun.”

  He kept his eyes on Hafsa, purposefully not looking at Tsiora when he said it, and saw his mother nod at his words.

  “I … those are pretty words, sounding true on their face,” Hafsa said, “but my life has been spent learning that those who argue for the moral necessity of a fight are far better at spending lives than they are at saving them. Won’t enough people die in the battle that’s to come? What difference can one more body make in it?”

  “On occasion, the whole of the difference.”

  “Queen Tsiora,” said Nyah, interjecting, “we now have a patient arguing with their priestess, and I’m not sure they’ll come to terms on their own. What say you?”

  But Hafsa wasn’t done with Tau yet, and after a glance at Tau’s mother, she questioned him. “How highly must one think of themselves to believe that they are the difference in a battle of thousands?”

  “You mistake me, Priestess,” Tau said. “I don’t believe that I’m the difference that matters, but I am the only difference I get to control. So I’ll fight, because it’s the only principled choice I can make, and doing anything less is the same as an acceptance of defeat and the admission that it’s deserved.”

  Uduak grunted, and from the corner of his eye, Tau saw Tsiora nod and shift on her cushion.

  “Thank you, Priestess, for everything,” the queen said. “We are blessed by your talent and passion, but the champion and the rest of us on this council must now continue to plan for what’s coming.”

  Hafsa was about to say more, seemed to think better of it, bowed to her queen, and turned to leave.

  “Priestess Ekene, would you be kind enough to guide Imani back with you?” Nyah asked, coating her tongue and words with nectar.

  “Please do, Priestess,” Tau’s mother said. “The vizier speaks with the queen’s authority, and those who rise so high do it because of their vision and wisdom. I am tired, but, somehow, I didn’t realize it until now.” Despite being blind and bandaged, Imani locked onto Nyah’s face. “Vizier, I aspire to become much more like you.”

  Tau shivered at his mother’s tone, and Nyah’s eyes narrowed, but the vizier had no chance to respond. Imani took the priestess’s hand and let Hafsa guide her from the room.

  “Well, having settled those skirmishes, shall we return our attention to the battle?” Hadith asked, teasing a hint of a smile from Tsiora. “But, excuse me, I’m uncouth,” he said, opening his hand toward the rough-faced Ihashe sitting near him. “Tau, this is Inkokeli Wanjala. Just before you and the queen returned to Citadel City from gathering the rest of our army, Wanjala arrived from Jirza with a wing of Ihagu to fight for his queen. And, remaining unbribed by even so gracious an offering, I can say with sincerity that it has been my good fortune to get to know him over the past season. He’s a diligent, brilliant, reliable commander, and I’ve set him the task of leading our Ihashe and Ihagu.”

  Tau inclined his head toward the man. “Well met, Inkokeli Wanjala.”

  “It is an honor, Champion.”

  Wanjala had that way of speaking that instantly placed him as a northern-born Lesser. It was tongue-tip heavy, though the words still sounded like they were coming from the back of the mouth.

  “Everyone introduced and comfortable now?” asked Nyah, looking around the table. “Good, because we need to decide how to proceed since I haven’t heard from anyone in Palm. Our Shadow Council Edifiers have always kept a strict schedule, but they’ve missed the last two meetings.”

  “You think they’ve been discovered?” asked Hadith.

  Nyah had her hands clasped and was chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I’m not sure what it means,” she said.

  “Until we know more, we should keep faith that they’ll be able to open the gates for us,” Hadith said. “We should continue with the attack as planned.” He glanced at Tau. “Our army has left Citadel City. It’s marching for Palm, and if we’re going to catch up with them, we need to do the same, but there’s still that other issue to discuss.”

  “The stables?” asked the queen.

  “The stables,” Nyah confirmed. “Grand General Buhari told us what happened there,” she said to Tau.

  “Did he?” Tau said. “Strange, he didn’t think the tale worth repeating when first he heard it.”

  “Tau, you told me a demon attacked you in a stable,” Hadith said.

  “Because one did.”

  “Well, yes, I believe you now, though I t
hink I was happier when I didn’t.”

  “I worry that Ananthi’s prison has begun to crack and that the cracks begin with you, Champion.” Nyah let her eyes drift to the queen as she said it.

  The vizier might also hold the role of KaEid, but Tau had known Nyah long enough to doubt she was that religious. She was trying to get the queen to agree to something.

  “What do you want, Vizier?” he asked.

  “The Ayim must suspend their training in the underworld until we know more about why this is happening.”

  “No,” Tau said. “We’ve proven what we can do in Isihogo, and the other six need more time to master it.”

  “I’m talking about all seven of you.”

  Tau felt his eyes go wide before he could stop them. “You want me to stop?”

  “What if the things you’re doing are opening holes between the realms?” Nyah asked.

  Tau sucked his teeth. “You can’t really expect—”

  “What do you think happens if Ananthi’s prison collapses entirely?”

  Tau was going to say more, but Nyah’s words horrified him.

  “We’ll still use the Ayim in the attack,” Hadith said. “We don’t have a choice, if we hope to retake the city, but the vizier’s right. There’s too much we don’t know and the risks are too great.”

  “The queen has already been put in danger,” Nyah said, “and now there’s the dead Ihagu.”

  “Dead Ihagu?” Tau asked.

  “He was found in camp a few spans ago,” Hadith said. “The back of his head caved in. It could have been a fight among the men gone wrong, or someone managed to get into our camp, kill the soldier, and escape unseen, or …”

  “Or?” Tau asked.

  “A demon. It could have been a demon that crossed into our world,” he said. “Tau, it’s safer to do it the way the vizier suggests and stay out of the underworld. We trust that the Ayim will do what they must, when the time comes.”

  “You can’t return to Isihogo until the attack, none of you,” Nyah said. “We need to understand what it is you’ve done first.”

  The queen nodded. “Ukufa is imprisoned in Isihogo, and it is harder for him to reach you if you stay in Uhmlaba.”

  “That can’t be all we do,” Nyah added. “The champion should be guarded, and he can’t be allowed near you, Your Majesty.”

  “We can defend ourselves from the demons,” the queen said.

  “From one demon, Queen Tsiora. You can entreat only one of them at a time,” Nyah said.

  “We’re not afraid.”

  “It’s not about fear. It’s about what makes sense.”

  “The answer remains no, Nyah, and as much as you may wish we had chosen differently, you don’t get to decide this part of our life for us.”

  Tau looked from the queen to Nyah and back again. It didn’t feel like they were talking about the demons, exactly. Also, though Nyah’s points were good ones, the queen seemed set in her decision, and not really wanting to examine why, Tau was glad for it. He was her champion and didn’t like the idea of not being able to see her. It felt important to be near her.

  “So, to confirm, the Ayim training stops now,” Hadith said. “In a few days, we’ll be in front of Palm’s walls, and that will be the next time they return to the underworld.”

  Tau said nothing.

  “My queen, do you think us ready?” Hadith asked, taking Tau’s silence as agreement.

  “Yes, General Buhari, we do,” she said.

  Hadith nodded. “Kellan, Wanjala, call the march for Palm City. Odili’s civil war begins and ends now.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  PALM

  Palm City, capital of the Xiddan Peninsula, sat between the fork in the Amanzi Amancinci River with the Central Mountains as its cloak, stone walls the height of seven Greater Nobles as its armor, and the rivers themselves as its shield. The city, extending from the base of the mountains, stretched to the river shores to the north and south and was designed to be defended.

  Indeed, if not for the soft contours of its domed buildings and the palace, with its massive central dome and spires, it would be easy to call Palm City a fortress. Whatever one called it, it made Kigambe look like a Drudge’s hut after a rainstorm.

  “She really lives in that city?” Themba asked.

  “She rules it, Themba. It and everything and everyone,” said Hadith. “Now, stop staring and help the rest make camp.”

  They were a couple of thousand strides west of the south fork of the Amanzi with three-quarters of Tsiora’s army behind them. Meanwhile, leading close to ten military claws, Wanjala’s second-in-command had separated from the main army a day’s march earlier to ford the river, crossing to its north shore. The fifteen hundred Ihashe and Ihagu he had with him made up the water and reserve prongs.

  As Tsiora’s main army set up camp in view of the capital and any scouts Odili had watching, the water and reserve prongs were hiding to the north of the city. There their engineers were completing the rafts that the water prong would use once the attack was underway.

  And while Odili defended Palm’s main gates with the majority of his forces, the water prong would sail to the city’s Port Gates and the Shadow Council agents would open them. Once inside, the soldiers would race to the city’s Northern Gates to overwhelm the few guards Odili would have there. That done, the Northern Gates would be opened, Wanjala’s second, at the head of more than a thousand men, would come charging in, and they’d be able to take half the city before Odili could even react. The scales, claws, and wings were ready, and before long, Tau expected to be standing in the palace in Palm.

  “I can’t believe I spent night after night listening to her tell me stories in a tent, like we’re two old friends,” Tau said, tracing the palace domes and spires with his eyes.

  Hadith was also eyeing the capital. “You knew she was a queen.”

  “I didn’t know it meant this,” Tau said, waving his hand at the metropolis in the distance.

  “Really?” asked Hadith.

  “Look at the size of it.”

  “You know, if the stories of Osonte are true, the cities there are much bigger.”

  Tau shook his head. “And that is exactly why most of the stories have to be more myth than truth,” Tau said. “We’re supposed to have built this in the time we’ve been on Xidda?”

  “It wasn’t built in a day,” Hadith said.

  “I can’t understand how it could be built in a million million days. Are you really so unimpressed?”

  Hadith looked over at him. “I’m trying not to fall over in fright, Tau. I came up with a plan to capture this city and I think it’s a good one, but when I look at Palm …” Hadith gave a mirthless laugh. “Who do I think I am to stand against that?”

  “It’s good to see the capital again,” said Kellan, walking over.

  “You lived here before the citadel, right?” Tau asked.

  “I did, but no longer. Even my mother and sister are gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Not like that. They fled Palm when they heard about the coup. My uncle was the queen’s champion and my mother is political enough to know what that could mean for her and my sister.”

  “Where are they now?” asked Tau.

  “I don’t know,” Kellan said, “but when word spreads of our victory here, they’ll be able to come back.”

  “Yes … our victory,” Tau said as he stared at the most intimidating stronghold he could fathom, wondering if he’d have had the audacity to think he could bring justice to Odili if he’d properly understood the world the man came from. Without looking away, he addressed Hadith. “Honestly, is there any chance? Won’t Odili simply conscript Palm’s residents and make them fight us? We’d lose to sheer numbers.”

  “What?” Kellan asked.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Hadith said. “The big cities, Kigambe, Jirza, Palm, they don’t face the war or the raids in the same way our fiefs, hamlets, and villages do. Yes
, they send men to train and join the army, and the women test to see if they’re Gifted, but the citizens who’ve completed service, or avoided it because the city needed their particular skills, they won’t pick up arms and fight.”

  “And Odili would have a revolt on his hands if he tried to conscript city Nobles,” Kellan said.

  “So we only have to worry about Odili’s actual soldiers?” Tau asked.

  Hadith nodded. “At last count from the Shadow Council, he had something like two thousand men to our six thousand two hundred and twenty-six.” Absentmindedly, he touched the space just below his chest, where the spear had gone in. “That’s one of the many problems with treating Lessers the way Nobles do,” he said. “There’s more of us than them, and when we finally refuse to survive on the scraps they throw us, our numbers will make all the difference.”

  “We have more fighters and we’re about to attack an Omehi city. Aren’t we playing the part of the Xiddeen in this?” Tau said.

  “We should be good at it, then. It’s a role we’re used to playing, neh?” Hadith said.

  Kellan frowned. “You think the skirmishes make you out to be the Xiddeen?”

  “I do, Kellan,” said Hadith. “We Lessers have the numbers advantage and we’re set up to fail against you. It’s a nice, tidy lesson on all counts. It teaches us that rebellion against the Nobles would result in our defeat and it encourages the Nobles to make war and never peace because they’ve seen, firsthand, that they can win against superior numbers.”

  “Grand General, you’re making it sound like there’s a secret group of figures plotting the way our society runs and controlling our treatment of one another.”

  Hadith raised an eyebrow. “How long have you known about the Shadow Council?”

  “Ah … That’s … that’s not the same,” Kellan said.

  “In any case,” Hadith said, “after we delayed the Xiddeen attack, Odili was free to sit behind Palm’s walls. He knew the queen would have more and more difficulty arguing that she rules the peninsula when she doesn’t control its capital. He knew we’d have to come here to fight, and it’s his hope that our greater numbers won’t mean much against his stone walls.”