The First Champion

by Sandell Wall

  Saredon’s thoughts were interrupted by a shadow in the doorway. He recognized Grippen’s lean form before the instructor stepped fully into the room. Saredon cursed at himself. His musings had distracted him from finishing his meal. Striking with his spoon faster than his sword, he scooped as much stew as he could into his mouth, certain that Grippen was about to cut breakfast short.

  Sure enough, when Grippen spoke, it was not to wish them a good morning.

  “If you’ve not taken the blood yet, do so now,” Grippen said. “Once that’s done, assemble yourselves against the walls. You’re coming with me.”

  Saredon managed to get the last spoonful of stew into his mouth as Grippen finished talking. He gulped it down without chewing. He almost choked, but he got a hold of himself before he made a scene and attracted the instructor’s unwelcome attention.

  Around Saredon, the rest of the students were draining the last of their goblets. Saredon picked up his and swirled the liquid around before taking a drink. It did not taste foul; in fact, it tasted excellent, like the sweetest honeyed fruit, but with a fire that lingered on the tongue like spice. But it still bothered Saredon. Despite her recent change of heart, he had not forgotten how staunchly his mother had resisted taking the blood at first. And he could not forget what it had done to Ursais. It had turned the gentle old man into a ranting maniac.

  However, now was not the time to dwell on it. Saredon raised the goblet to his lips and let the rich liquid slide down his throat. As always, it burned on the way down and ignited a smoldering fire in his gut. He let the energy fill him, let the unholy strength chase away the fatigue from this morning's bout.

  Arrogance came next. It crept over him like a fever, and with it came annoyance at Thyria’s earlier outburst. How could she speak to him like that? She showed such ingratitude to enjoy his favor and the position of honor at his side.

  Somewhere deep inside Saredon’s mind, he tried to restrain the burning anger that now fueled him, but in the grips of Abimelech’s blood, it was impossible. From across the room, Saredon realized that Grippen was watching him. Saredon sneered at the instructor.

  To his surprise, Saredon saw the hint of a smile on Grippen’s lips.

  Chapter 11

  KAISER HAD WAITED LONG enough. They had lingered in the squalid settlement for two days. In that time, Tarathine’s condition had not worsened, but she showed no signs of improvement. It was the morning of the third day, and Kaiser stood outside the hut he shared with Tarathine and Sorrell, watching the sunrise. Sorrell stood at his side.

  “It’s time to move on,” Kaiser said. “I know the others are still recovering, but we can’t stay here any longer.”

  “If you say so,” Sorrell said.

  Kaiser frowned. Sorrell had been distant the past two days. She barely spoke to him, and when she did, she seemed angry. He could not think of anything he had said or done to warrant this treatment. He had been waiting for her to get over it, whatever it was, but maybe he needed to confront her about her attitude. For now, it could wait.

  “I’m going to speak to Lacrael,” Kaiser said. “Do you mind staying with Tarathine?”

  “I can do that,” Sorrell said.

  Sand crunched under Kaiser’s heels as he walked between the pitiful huts that these people lived in. Even in the early hours of the morning, Kaiser could already feel the heat of the sun on his skin. He hated the desert. When he was not fantasizing about food, his dreams were full of lush forests and bubbling brooks.

  He passed by Brant and Gustavus’s hut before reaching Lacrael’s. Gustavus stood outside to greet the dawn. The former captain of the Golden Dawn had experienced a miraculous recovery over the last two days. Once free of the miasma, and able to eat something other than snail meat, the man’s sickness had all but vanished. His strength was returning, as was his color and mood. Gustavus was still frail, but at his full height, he towered over Kaiser.

  “It’s an ocean, of a sort, but not the kind that stirs my soul,” Gustavus said to Kaiser, although he did not take his eyes from the open desert.

  “If we ever escape this place, I never want to see another grain of sand in my life,” Kaiser said.

  Gustavus tried to snort in amusement, but it turned into a hacking cough. It took him several moments to recover. When he did, he waved Kaiser away. He managed to speak between wheezes. “If you’re looking for Brant, he’s in the center of the village with Lacrael and Niad.”

  Kaiser gave Gustavus a nod of thanks and moved past the hut. Gustavus was doing better, but he had a long way to go before he was fully recovered. Kaiser left the circle of huts behind and approached the main meeting hall. The settlement was busy this early in the morning. Most of the day’s necessary work was completed before the sun rose high enough to scorch both village and villager alike.

  The villagers themselves had not extended the warm welcome offered by their leader. They watched Kaiser everywhere he went, and while they moved out of his path like frightened birds, he sensed that he was not wanted here. He had come through the portal with armor on, but he had long ago discarded it. It had been worse than useless in the Ravening. Now, he regretted leaving it behind. He felt exposed. If one of these people wanted to put a dagger in his back, he could be skewered by the flimsiest of blades.

  Lacrael insisted that the word of the village elder would hold. Kaiser hoped she was right. He preferred to avoid bloodshed. A battle here would slow them down and leave a trail. Neither of which helped Tarathine.

  As Kaiser crossed the stretch of open sand before the village hall, his thoughts turned briefly to Saredon. To his shame and increasing guilt, Saredon’s plight weighed less heavily on his soul these days. Tarathine’s needs and their current predicament were more immediate. It was hard to hold on to the need to rescue Saredon when every day was a struggle for survival. Kaiser hoped that wherever his son was, he was doing better than they were.

  At the front of the main building, ancient wooden steps creaked under Kaiser’s weight. He passed through the doorway to find Lacrael, Brant, and Niad holding a seated conference with Sadreed. The four of them were sitting cross-legged near the back of the room. Instead of cushions, they reclined on threadbare cloth mats.

  Several women pretended to work around the room, but their attention was clearly on the discussion taking place with Sadreed. Lacrael had told him that these women were Sadreed’s wives. More than anything else they had encountered so far in this place, this rattled Kaiser. The practice of having multiple wives was utterly foreign to him. It bordered on barbaric.

  Kaiser crossed the room and sat down uninvited. Sadreed gave him an appraising look as he approached. Kaiser saw the apprehension in the old man’s eyes. It was the sort of look people gave a reaver in full armor. The man had identified Kaiser as a killer, even without the trappings of his station.

  “Before you say it, we’re discussing how to leave this place and infiltrate Palacostian territory,” Lacrael said.

  Kaiser hesitated. He had been about to open his mouth to demand they do exactly that.

  “We can’t just up and march away across the sand,” Lacrael said. “From here on out, things get complicated.”

  “They weren’t already?” Kaiser said.

  Lacrael shook her head. “You might decide the Ravening was more welcoming than the empire once you’ve sampled their hospitality. First, we’ll have to venture back into the miasma. The empire’s territory is deep within the Ravening. It provides a stronger defense than any standing army ever could. Navigating the hidden highways to reach Orcassus will be a challenge all by itself. However, the second complication will come when we actually enter a Palacostian city, which we’ll certainly have to do before reaching the capital. Niad can explain better than I can. She actually lived in the empire.”

  Niad cleared her throat before speaking. “With Sadreed’s help, I think I’ve got a good idea of where we are in relation to the empire proper. Depending on how quickly we can travel, we
’re facing a journey of at least two weeks, maybe more. Between us and Orcassus, we’ll have to seek shelter in the walled cities. The miasma around Orcassus is so thick that it’s deadly to humans. There’s no way we’ll get into the capital without help.

  “That means we’ll have to come up with a story, a disguise, to be able to enter imperial towns. If we were to walk out of the miasma and present ourselves as we are now, we’d either be killed on the spot or captured and thrown into prison. Our only chance is to act like we belong, and as far as we can see, the only way to do that is to pretend like I’m a slaver and the rest of you are my merchandise.”

  “You want us to pretend to be your property?” Kaiser said. “I don’t like it. If we present ourselves as slaves, they’ll treat us like slaves.”

  “It’s not unheard of for a member of a dishonored family to turn to a slaving career amongst the tribes of the forsaken,” Niad said. “Such a woman hunts down male deserters and fugitives from the empire and returns them in chains. It would explain where we came from and why no one would recognize me. And it would give us an excuse to travel together. I’m not saying there won’t be… problems along the way, but at the very least, it’s a believable story.”

  Sadreed interrupted the conversation with a question. Lacrael turned her attention to the old man and exchanged words with him. When they finished speaking, she turned back to Kaiser.

  “He wanted to know what we’ve decided,” Lacrael said. “I told him our plan. He’s reminded me that there’s something we’re forgetting. There’s no way Niad’s story will be believed if she doesn’t travel with a forsaken slave. No one navigates the tribal wastes without an experienced guide or an armed escort. For this ruse to work, I’ll have to don the robes the empire requires all forsaken to wear.”

  Following a nod from Lacrael, Sadreed got to his feet and went into the back room. He returned moments later with a tattered black robe. Lacrael stood, and with Sadreed’s help, lifted the garment over her head, let it fall down to her legs, and then arranged it so that it covered every part of her body. The hood came up over her head and hung down around her face. When she was finished, only her hands and lower face were exposed.

  The robe itself was ragged. Instead of a smooth, unblemished surface, strips of cloth and loose string hung from every square inch of it, giving Lacrael the appearance of a plague carrier or street beggar. The last piece of the forlorn uniform was a featureless mask that covered Lacrael’s face. It was carved from wood and painted a drab gray, with narrow slits for the eyes and mouth.

  “This is how the forsaken must identify themselves within the Palacostian Empire,” Lacrael said. “Sadreed said we can take this robe. The woman that escaped the empire with it died within the first year of her arrival here. He has no use for it.”

  “That’s obscene,” Brant said. “What sort of people require such a thing?”

  “You’ll learn soon enough,” Niad said. “I promise you, however bad we’re making it sound, the reality is worse.”

  “What’s to stop them from thinking the rest of us are forsaken as well?” Kaiser asked.

  Niad chuckled. “With your fair skin and hair there’s no chance any of you will be mistaken for a desert nomad. It will be assumed that the rest of you are fugitives from the empire.”

  “And when we reach Orcassus?” Kaiser said. “What then? Are they just going to give us a cure for Tarathine if we ask politely? From the way you talk, I’d wager not.”

  Lacrael and Niad exchanged a look. Kaiser waited impatiently for an answer. At his side, it was clear that Brant was just as eager to hear the plan.

  “Tell him,” Lacrael said.

  “This is a fool’s errand,” Niad said. “If we even get within the sight of Orcassus’s walls, it’ll be a miracle. If we manage to get that far, we’ll have done the impossible. After that, there’s no way to plan for what happens next. Let’s be clear about the risk: we can stay here and wait to die after a few years of starvation and sickness, or we can try to reach the capital and most likely die any number of horrible deaths. If we run afoul of the empire, our demise won’t be quick, and it won’t be painless.”

  Kaiser sat back as Niad’s words sank in. He had been expecting the worst, but he had hoped to give Tarathine a fighting chance. Now, it seemed like even that had been taken from him.

  “If we’re dead either way, I’m not going to sit around here waiting for sickness to claim me,” Kaiser said. “I’ll die on my feet, sword in hand. We’ll make for the capital.”

  “We told Sadreed you’d say that,” Lacrael said. “He thinks we’re mad. I don’t think he believed me when I told him that the rest of you are from another realm.”

  Sadreed smiled and nodded when Lacrael said his name.

  “It goes without saying, we can’t reveal our powers to anyone,” Lacrael said. “We’d bring the attention of the Lady of Pain herself down on our heads, and that’s the last thing we want.”

  “That’s not the first time you’ve referred to her,” Kaiser said. “Who is this, ‘Lady of Pain’?”

  “She’s the immortal ruler of the Palacostian empire,” Niad said. “Some call her an empress; others call her a goddess. The title doesn’t matter. What does matter is that her word is law. She’s sat upon the throne for as long as anyone can remember. Nothing happens within the borders of the empire that’s not in accordance with her will.”

  They sat in silence for a moment as their imaginations conjured images of the Lady of Pain. Kaiser did not like what he saw.

  “I don’t think I can carry Tarathine for two weeks across the desert,” Kaiser said. “Ask the old man if he has any strips of leather or length of rope. Anything I can use to make a crude harness will work.”

  At Lacrael’s prompting, Sadreed vanished into the back room again. It took longer for him to return this time, but when he did, he held a coil of dark rope in his hand. He offered it to Kaiser with a nod.

  Kaiser accepted the gift. “Tell him I appreciate it,” he said to Lacrael.

  “That rope is worth several months of hard labor out here,” Lacrael said after she passed Kaiser’s thanks onto Sadreed.

  Surprised, Kaiser looked at the rope in his hands with new appreciation. “Why is he willing to part with it so easily?”

  “Because he says he sees something in you that he’s not seen in a long time.”

  “And that is?”

  “The will and courage to live. Sadreed thinks we’re mad, but he also thinks we just might make it.”

  Kaiser raised his gaze to meet Sadreed’s. To his surprise, he saw grit in the old man that he had missed before. Kaiser reached out a hand towards Sadreed, and the man met his gesture in kind. They gripped each other’s forearms; Kaiser felt the strength in the old man’s hand. They did not need words to understand each other.

  Sadreed would stand with Kaiser if he could, but he walked a different path. Age and duty kept him here, in this desolate place on the edge of a dying world. Kaiser gave the man a grim smile and a nod. He released Sadreed, and rope in hand, he strode from the building.

  Chapter 12

  LACRAEL WATCHED KAISER GO. Brant and Niad followed him out, but she lingered behind. There was something she wanted to ask Sadreed, something personal.

  “That man walks as if the very earth itself will yield to his passing,” Sadreed said when Kaiser was gone from their sight.

  “I’m not sure that it doesn’t,” Lacrael said.

  “If I were twenty years younger and not responsible for these poor souls, I’d join you on your mad quest. I have a feeling that you’ll find what you seek, and perhaps more besides. What I wouldn’t give to be by your side when you do.”

  “We won’t forget your kindness. We’d have been lost without it.”

  “Pah,” Sadreed said, waving a dismissive hand. “A robe, some rope, and a flimsy hut to sleep in. Don’t make it seem like more than what it is. We offer aid to those unfortunate enough to find themselves in our
care. If you’re here, it’s because you’ve nowhere else to go.”

  “Still, we’ll remember you,” Lacrael said.

  “That’s more than enough for this old man.”

  “There’s one more thing I’d ask of you.”

  Sadreed raised his eyebrows.

  “A question only, I won’t take more of your precious supplies,” Lacrael said.

  “Ask away, young one,” Sadreed said with a smile.

  “Do you know if Chieftain Jarcome still rules his tribe?”

  “Now that’s an interesting query. Of what concern are the politics of the forsaken to you?”

  “I used to be a part of his tribe. I was just curious what happened to them.”

  “You wouldn’t know anything about the young flamekeeper that appeared from their number a few years back, would you? She’d be about your age now, I reckon.”

  The implication was clear. Lacrael met Sadreed’s gaze without blinking.

  “If I’d had news of them, I wouldn’t be asking you, now would I?” Lacrael said.

  “Now, now, there’s no need to be short with me, child,” Sadreed said. “It’s just that I used to know a man from that tribe, many years ago. A man named Garlang. He used to tell me about this wonderful little granddaughter of his. I heard he died a few years after the flamekeeper disappeared. Such a waste.”

  Lacrael hoped she had not revealed her surprise to hear her grandfather’s name. She wanted to trust Sadreed, but it would be foolish to reveal her heritage to this man, even if it seemed harmless way out here in the middle of nowhere.

  “Anyway, to answer your question, after the flamekeeper slipped through Jarcome’s grasp, the empress decided to make an example out of his tribe,” Sadreed said. “Her seplica hunted down every last man, woman, and child, slaughtered those who resisted, and enslaved the rest. The few who escaped are now outcasts. I’ve heard rumors that Jarcome rots in a prison in Orcassus, but I suspect the truth is that he’s long dead.”