by Evan Winter
Hadith’s eyebrows pulled together, and he paused long enough for Tau to worry about what might need to come next if Hadith disobeyed a direct order.
It didn’t come to it, and Hadith saluted stiffly. “Your words, my will,” he said, going to order the assault.
“What have they made us do?” Tsiora asked him, holding Chibuye. “What have they made of us?”
“What we must be,” Tau said, his mother stepping closer to him and the queen when he spoke, her hands clenched in fists.
“Win our capital, Champion Solarin,” his queen said. “Save our sister and deliver Odili to the Goddess’s justice.”
It was Tau’s turn to nod. The things his queen wanted, these were things Tau would do. “Your words, my destiny,” he said, turning to call the Ayim to arms.
“Champion, you … you must come back to us,” Tsiora said, and it muddled him to see her like that, so totally unmasked. She wiped tears from her face. “Above all else, Tau, we wish for you to come back.”
So many had been lost to bring him here.
“There is nothing in Uhmlaba that could stop me,” he told her as he left.
CONQUERORS
They crossed the Amanzi using the same ponton bridges that Odili’s army had abandoned in their rushed retreat when Tsiora’s dragon had been the last one in the skies. They didn’t meet significant resistance until they were among the rubble of the great stone wall of Palm City. Before that initial engagement, Hadith had ordered a slow, methodical push. He wanted Tsiora’s army to move into the city in waves, clearing paths, neighborhoods, sections. He wanted the army to announce that surrender would be accepted and that those wishing to do so would not be harmed. Hadith Buhari, grand general of the Omehian army, had many wants, but no one, woman or man, can control the Roar, and Tsiora’s army swept the city like the ocean at storm.
Tau, at the head of the Ayim, led the way. He had his black blades in hand, a heart heavy with loss, and promises to keep, and he brought Odili’s Ihagu, Ihashe, and Indlovu sharp justice. He stalked the midnight corridors of the capital, with its tall buildings of rich, smooth adobe, painting the walls with the blood of those who blocked him. He fought in tight paths, along vaulted archways, through shops, in a temple of the Goddess, and even in a home where an old Nobleman put a knife to the throat of a Lesser boy to keep the Ayim at bay.
Tau told the Noble that if he harmed the boy, he’d suffer for it. Odili’s men, many more of them than there were Ayim, broke into the house, hoping to make short work of Tau and the six with him. The old Noble, thinking the battle won, laughed in Tau’s face and slit the boy’s throat.
Tau saved that Noble for last. He and the Ayim killed everyone else. And when Tau had gone to put the old man to death, he’d gibbered, pleaded, and pissed himself. His screams came after that.
The next significant engagement came in a glorious circle large enough to hold the whole of Keep Onai. Fighting in it, Tau thought back to the Queen’s Melee as he skirmished alongside his six Ayim, laying waste to Indlovu and tearing to pieces the world these Nobles had known and understood for so long.
Then, at the last, they came to a bridge spanning a thin tributary of the Amanzi that had been redirected to run through the city, providing Palm with needed water and desired beauty. The bridge was a wondrous work of sculpted stone, its sides depicting a frieze of Omehi warriors fighting a last stand against an enemy of far greater numbers. It showed a woman, Gifted, hand outstretched and calling a Guardian forth to bring fire to her foes as the outnumbered Omehi faced their fate without fear. It was very noble.
“Ingonyama,” said Uduak as they stepped onto the arching bridge.
The man, running ahead of three units of Indlovu, was enraged, and even for one of them, he was big.
Tau licked away the blood spattered across his lips and turned to Uduak. “Mine,” he said, spinning his blades and racing to meet his enraged enemy.
The Ingonyama had no shield and was holding his great sword in both hands. He swung for Tau, but he was no horned demon bred in the underworld, and fast as he was, strong as he was, empowered as he was, he was just a man. He’d lived only one life, and Tau had suffered through thousands.
Tau slipped the man’s swing, battering him with both swords, and the colossus staggered, his stone skin and plated armor the only things keeping him alive. The Ingonyama lashed out with a leather- and plate-stitched glove, driving Tau back, forcing him to avoid each attack or be killed by the man’s power.
Flowing with the Ingonyama’s rhythm, timing his punches and sword swings, Tau countered every miss with dragon scale. He chipped away at the Noble like a sculptor seized by inspiration, and when the man began to cry out in pain, he cut deeper. He didn’t stop when the Ingonyama’s Gifted pulled her powers. He didn’t stop when the Ingonyama collapsed. Tau kept going until the work was done.
“He’s dead,” said Uduak.
“What?” Tau rasped, standing over the pile of hacked-up flesh that had been a man.
“Him.”
Tau stared down at the mess and recoiled. The dead man’s face was moving, his features contorting, changing to become demon-like. Having a hard time blinking away the vision, Tau looked away.
The palace was close and he had to hurry. It was getting harder to keep the monsters and the men separated.
Speaking to the Ayim, he pointed to the domed palace with one of his swords. “The queen’s sister will be inside, and Abasi Odili is with her.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ESI OMEHIA
Esi Omehia was on the balcony in the main hall in the Peninsulan Palace and she could hear her Queen’s Guard dying. Moments earlier, to defend her, they’d left the main hall and closed the doors, leaving a few Indlovu behind to bar them from the inside.
She knew whom they were fighting out there, and the knowledge scared her. She knew it was Tsiora’s champion and the Lesser wretches who clung to him like lice. She tried to take comfort in the sounds of Abasi Odili’s voice. He was beside her, but every so often something or someone would hit the outside of the door, making it bang. She jumped every time it happened, and she hated it.
She was so anxious her palms were sweating. She would have wiped away the wet, but the only thing near enough to help was her gown, which was the color of purest alabaster, and the sweat would show on it.
So instead of using her dress, Esi rubbed her hands together, well aware that she wasn’t doing much. She wouldn’t filthy herself, though. If she was going to be taken to her sister, she’d go to her as a queen.
It didn’t help her nerves that soldiers kept running in and giving Abasi reports or messages, and she tried not to listen. She didn’t want to hear about the city being overrun. She didn’t want to know the names of this inkokeli or that general who had been killed. She wouldn’t even let herself imagine what else was happening out there in the city as Tsiora’s army of wild Lessers infested Palm.
Her quiet voice whispered evil things to her, telling her that Tsiora would give her to the Lessers, telling her that Tsiora would give her to the savage she’d made her champion, and none of Esi’s usual tricks would shut the voice up.
Needing to do something, anything, Esi hummed to herself, reciting the last song her bard had written for her. She loved the words, and saying them in her head helped drown out the quiet voice.
“Esi,” Abasi asked, taking her hand in his, “is it bad?”
She gave him a smile. “I’ll be fine, Bas. It’s just hard when I’m tired.”
“I think they’re going to get into the hall, Esi,” he said, telling her terrible things with his beautiful voice, the words dancing with each other like they were part of a melody just beyond hearing. “I thought we could trap them in the hall. They were stuck between the Queen’s Guard and two dozen Indlovu. I thought we could stop them.”
Esi blocked out the words, listening to their sounds instead. She adored the way he spoke, and long before his arms, it was his voice she’d re
veled in. For his sake, she wanted to be strong, but the words slipped from her lips before she could leash them. “Is there truly no hope?”
He reached for her other hand, and lifting them both to his lips, he kissed her fingers. “She won’t harm either of you, and that truth is worth so much more than hope.”
The quiet voice scoffed.
Esi placed a hand to her stomach. “She will hurt me, Bas. She’ll hurt me by taking away the man I love.”
He lowered his head, shamed by her concerns. “I’ve failed you, my queen.”
She put a finger to his chin, lifting his head, getting him to look at her. “You didn’t fail me, and I don’t want to be your queen right now,” she said, leaning in and kissing him, pressing her lips to his, feeling the warmth of him, and not for the first time, wondering how different things could have been.
Her quiet voice chattered in her ear, telling Esi that she was going to lose everything and it was all because her sister had tried to surrender the Omehi to primitives.
“This isn’t your fault,” Esi said to Abasi. “We tried to save our people from Tsiora’s cowardice and zealotry. We tried.”
“Even knowing how it ends, I’d do it over again, if you asked me,” he said to her.
Another messenger ran over, interrupting them, and Abasi stepped back from her, taking his fingers from hers.
The quiet voice told Esi that he was going to leave, abandoning Esi to her fate, but in saying that, the voice had gone too far and Esi could and did silence her.
“Champion Odili,” the messenger said, saluting them both. “Queen Esi.”
“Report,” Abasi told the messenger.
“We no longer control the city,” the soldier said, making Esi gasp.
And though she didn’t approve of affection in public, it swelled her heart to see that, in that moment, Abasi knew her well enough to return his hand to hers. They were stronger together. They always had been.
“The hallway beyond these doors? Can we hold it?” Abasi asked the soldier.
The man shook his head.
Abasi nodded. “I haven’t received a casualty report for the past span.”
“I-I’ll have someone with updated numbers bring them to—”
“We won’t have time for that. Tell me what you know.”
“Yes, Champion,” the soldier said. “We’ve lost at least three scales of Indlovu, five claws of Ihashe, and the few cowardly Ihagu who didn’t surrender at the first chance they got have broken.”
“I see.”
“Champion, the worst is our loss of Gifted. Including the Edifiers, Entreaters, and our Enervators and Enragers, we’ll have to burn more than—”
“No more,” said Esi, as the quiet voice screamed at her. “Bas, let’s not hear any more.”
“My queen,” said the soldier. “Apologies.”
She waved him away. “Leave us.”
“Ah …”
Esi wanted the soldier to go, but she was also a queen. “Say it, then.”
“My queen, Champion, the … the defense of the palace has not been finalized.”
The soldier was trying to be respectful to her while seeking his answer from Abasi.
“I’m going to get them to stand down, Esi,” Abasi said. “They can’t hold, and asking them to try will kill more Gifted and Indlovu, all to grant us a quarter span or two.”
“You want my permission?” Esi said as the quiet voice told her to withhold it.
“I need your permission.”
“Should I do it, Bas?”
He nodded.
“You have my permission,” she said. “Tell them to stand down.”
“Tell the Gifted and Indlovu to stand down,” Abasi said to the soldier. “Spread the word, weapons away, Palm City is Queen Tsiora’s.”
There it was, Esi thought. Just like that, Tsiora was a queen again.
“Thank you, Champion, my queen. It has been an honor to serve.” The soldier saluted, turned smartly, and marched off.
“It won’t be long now,” Abasi said. “Esi, please do as we discussed. For me, please.”
“What if you’re wrong, Bas?”
“I’m not.”
“What if you are? If you tell her that it’s you who did this, that it’s you who made me do this …” Esi’s head was pounding. “Bas … she might kill you.”
He smiled at her, and tenderly, as if he couldn’t believe he was permitted to do it, he placed a hand against her cheek.
She leaned into his palm and fingers. “What if she doesn’t believe you? I can’t lose you. And Bas, the Edifiers … Tsiora knows no Gifted would take orders from a man. They wouldn’t sacrifice themselves on your word alone. Let me own my actions. Let me help you, for once.”
“Your sister is a traitor to her race, self-righteous in her wrongheadedness, and blinded by religion,” Abasi said. “She’s so weak she may actually rule over the end of the Omehi, but, Esi Omehia, your sister loves you. She loves you and she’ll ignore the truth shouting in her face, if it means she can continue pretending that you feel the same way about her.”
Esi shook her head, then kissed the palm of the hand he’d had on her cheek. “I won’t live without you. Bas, the first chance I get, I’ll put a dagger through her heart.”
His smile grew rueful. “The Goddess knows how I feel about you, and you’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. Esi, you’re stronger than your sister could ever be, but I don’t see you hurting her or yourself. You may not love her, but you do care for her.”
“It’s love that lets me do it,” Esi said. “It’s my love for you that lets me do it.”
“Then you’ll break my heart,” he said, “because, after killing someone you care for, you’ll be lost too.”
“Look what she’s done to us. I hate her.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. In people like her there’s a permanent war waged between love and loyalty, and if the scales ever tilt too far … Esi, Tsiora will punish disloyalty, even from you. So do it for me, my queen, for what we’ve made together, let her think she’s loved.”
“You want me to be a traitor. You want me to forget my dreams and make my heart hard.”
“I want you to live,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Goddess, Esi, I need you to live.” His eyes teared up.
“We can run,” she said, wishing that they could.
“We’ve nowhere to go.”
“Bas …”
“I love you, Esi.”
“Bas …”
“Shhh. They’re coming.”
PRINCESS
The great doors to the main hall in the Peninsulan Palace were forced open, and in marched more Lessers than Esi had ever seen up close. They searched the main floor, beat her unarmed Indlovu, and threw them to their knees. They terrified her, and they were nothing compared to the seven demons who walked in after them.
First of them through the doors was the biggest Lesser she’d ever seen. He had hands the size of drums, and they were drenched in blood. Beside him were what appeared to be two women, and for a breath, she thought they might have been Auset and Ramia, but it couldn’t be. They were dressed for fighting, each of them holding two strange swords, and they looked too cold, too cruel.
Past them was another big Lesser, though this one was skinnier. He moved through the room like an inyoka, gliding across the floor as if the bottoms of his feet had been smeared with oil. Beyond that one was a Lesser who strutted into the room with a smile as wide as the Amanzi. He laughed and chattered, making mock of her captured Indlovu before stopping to gape up at her, his naked desire evident and disgusting.
The sixth through the door was something from a nightmare. He moved like a puppet on strings set too tight and had the size of a Noble, but she could see none of his features to confirm it. He wore a cloak too thick for the weather, the hood up, and his body was bandaged from head to toe with bleached cloth that had turned the color of copper, because whatever afflictions he h
ad, they were bleeding through his bindings.
Then, at the last, she saw the one who led them all, and her fear grew so great her head spun, making the ground feel as if it were tilting and swaying beneath her feet. She reached for Abasi and he batted her hand away.
“We can’t, Esi,” he whispered, and she knew why they hid their love, but she needed him then. She needed him because they were stronger together and because the quiet voice was screaming at the sight of Tsiora’s demon coming closer.
He moved into the hall, his gait a broken lurch that turned something as simple as walking into a ghastly sight. Esi tried to silence the quiet voice, to calm it, but Tsiora’s demon looked up to the second floor where she stood, his gaze crashing down on them, and in it, in his scarred, wicked face, she saw so much hate and rage that she began to scream as well.
“Up the stairs,” Tsiora’s demon said to the six who stood with him, his voice a graceless rasp that took her mind to the sounds of bones cracked and crunched in the mouth of a glutton.
“Bas …,” she said, her scream dying in a throat constricted by fear, and despite his caution and plans, he took her hand, holding it tight and close as the six came for them with her sister’s twisted champion in tow.
“It’ll be well, Esi,” Abasi said. “Please, it will be well, my queen.”
She was a queen, her authority derived from the Goddess Herself, but what was that worth when faced by the godless?
“It’ll be well, Esi, please!”
The six were on the second floor, and up came Tsiora’s demon. She saw his eyes then, burning with the intensity of dragon fire. Her knees buckled, and she would have fallen to the floor if Abasi had not been holding her.
“We surrender!” Abasi said.
“I don’t care,” the demon replied, pulling out two black swords and coming for them.
“Tau! No!” shouted a voice from the main floor. “Ayim, as grand general, I order you to stop him.”