Seablood

by Cameron Bolling

The king let the swatch of silk fall to the floor as he took up the spearhead in both hands. For a moment, he held it aloft above his head, just as he had done with each of the three materials when she returned to the palace with them. Then, he lowered it onto the spear shaft; the top section fit perfectly into the circular slot of the head.

  Cheers erupted from the crowd. Oleja turned to face them all with the spear unified at last and the shield hanging at her side. She straightened her posture tall as she stood there before the people of Ahwan, just beside the king atop his dais. She smiled down at them, and they all gazed back in excitement.

  She looked to Cyrah, Wil, Brashen, and Maloia each in turn, and then swept her eyes over the dozens of others who stood shoulder-to-shoulder along the side of the room. Hundreds more filled the crowd stretching back through the open doors, out into the hall, and far back out into the storm and the dark of the night. They all watched her, peeking over the tops of the heads in front of them, trying to get a glimpse of their new champion.

  “People of Ahwan!” Oleja called. “I am Oleja Raseari, the champion of this city. Together with King Reungier and with the help of all of you, we will bring a new age of unity and prosperity to this city! And I can tell you now where we will start. The earthborn of Itsoh have loomed on the horizon of these lands for far too long, striking fear into the hearts of travelers who seek only safe passage through the desert to the east. Together, we will burn Itsoh to the ground.” She paused and raised her spear and shield higher. “The forces of Ahwan will soon march to destroy Itsoh once and for all!”

  The words echoed through the crowd, sweeping out through the doors and down the hall as each person repeated the decree to those around them, and then those people did the same. Soon, the whole palace was alight with chatter. Calls for the end of Itsoh echoed off the walls and the ceiling towering high above.

  Oleja took a deep breath. Soon, she would lead the march of hundreds against Itsoh. Soon, her people would be free. Soon, she would be the hero not only of Ahwan, but of her own people too, just as she had always planned.

  At last, she would deliver generations of overdue justice to the eclipsers.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  A long table stretched before Oleja; she stood at the head.

  Thick wood, polished so it gleamed and felt as smooth as metal when touched, comprised the table—a squat, heavy thing that stretched seven feet wide and three times as long. It did not rise high up off the floor, only just past Oleja’s knees. No chairs or benches took up space around it, but everyone knew where to stand nonetheless; Oleja at one end, the king at the opposite, and all others lining the two sides where they always positioned themselves at equal intervals.

  A great piece of paper nearly the same size as the table covered its surface, and across it ran dark lines of ink this way and that displaying a map, larger than any Oleja had ever seen and showing a massive stretch of the world. The line that divided the world of earth from the world of water—the sea—ran the length of the table, close to one side of the paper. The rest showed mountains and valleys, with heavy stone markers indicating cities and towns and eclipser camps. A special stone weight sat in the middle, taller than the others and carved to resemble the king’s palace. It showed Ahwan’s location on the map.

  Around it all, tall walls and high ceilings made up the room. No windows let the natural light of day inside, a precaution to keep unwanted eyes from seeing what transpired within. The planning room resided in the palace, through a door in the main hall and down a smaller hallway. Oleja had spent much of her time there over the past few days since being declared the champion. Already so much had happened.

  She lifted one hand and adjusted the silver circlet that sat on her brow, pressing just a smidge too hard on the center of her forehead and irritating her endlessly. A few thin, arching silver bands formed the thing, creating wave-like shapes along her temples and set, in the very center, with a piece of the same rainbow material that adorned her shield: abalone. Cut into an elongated shape of five sides, the shell glittered a million colors in the lantern light that illuminated the room. She hated wearing the circlet; besides being uncomfortable, it felt too gaudy—it was too fine a thing for her. She didn’t need polished metals and fancy clothes to prove herself a hero.

  And she had received new clothes as well. The first pair gifted to her by the king had been far too elegant—all delicate material embroidered with silver thread. She wanted something she didn’t have to worry about dirtying or tearing while fighting or working in the forge, which she still insisted on doing if only for a break from everything else. Working with her hands was a necessity, and though the king and the others insisted she put aside the work in favor of other pursuits, she refused to part from her smithing and tinkering. Without it, her brain would surely melt away entirely.

  In place of the fine garments, she received more plain clothes—pants of grey and a sky-blue shirt—though soft and of fair make nonetheless.

  Everyone seemed quite determined to alter her presence in the city, in fact. The king had initially given her a home in the palace, complete with an extravagant bedroom and workspace as well as lounge chambers and a washroom that pulled in water from outside through a series of aqueducts and pipes. Though she marveled at the quarters, she turned them down. She wanted to keep her cabin in the woods where she could retreat unbothered by her newfound fame. The king tried to insist the city at least post guards there as defense, but Oleja had denied that offer as well. If anyone came hunting for her, shouldn’t she, as the champion, be allowed to defend herself? The argument convinced the king, or perhaps it was merely her stubbornness that wore on him, because he hadn’t pushed the issue further.

  And being cooped up in the planning room away from the view of the sky was yet another thing Oleja disliked about her new position.

  But all of her grievances aside, she did enjoy her newfound role. Those she spoke to listened to her words without question, and even the king seemed heavily swayed by her thoughts. Those she met on the streets greeted her warmly and with great excitement—a type of attention she had never received before. The people of the city liked her. To them, she was their hero.

  And none of it surpassed the overwhelming relief of knowing that with every day, the soldiers trained hard, readying to go into battle against Itsoh. At last, her plan rested just on the horizon. She had come so far, and now the final payoff loomed near.

  And though tricky, the planning work that consumed her days had its intrigue. She stood around the table with the generals who oversaw the army and the best of the king’s strategists, plotting their course to and assault on Itsoh. Oleja shared her knowledge of the terrain surrounding the camp, as well as all she could recall of the camp’s layout and general structure. From there, the generals and strategists shifted figures that sat atop the map—each one representing bands of troops—as they determined the best course of action. Oleja loved to listen to them work, and shared many of her own suggestions, which they never questioned and always considered. Truly, she enjoyed the position greatly.

  She looked around the table. Three figures stood on her left, and three on her right. The opposite end of the table remained empty at the moment while the king tended to things elsewhere in the palace. Helis often joined the meetings as well, but he came and went alongside the king, or worked with the soldiers down at the training pit.

  The three generals stood on her left: a short, rough woman with long grey hair named Edda, a middle-aged man named Imalen who had deep brown skin and a deeper voice that shook the walls, and a younger woman with heavy muscle and a head of short blonde curls who bore a long scar across her cheek and neck—Peyotti, though typically she just went by Peyo.

  On the right side of the table stood the two strategists, Vys and Juldenn. Vys was a tall woman with a chin so sharp it was rivaled only by her wit, while Juldenn was a quieter man who always came into the planning room toting a large stack of books, and whose thick glasses
made his eyes appear much larger while he wore them, and then impossibly small when he took them off to wipe away a smudge.

  Beside the two strategists, taking up the third space along the right side of the table, stood Sreovel. She towered high above the heads of the others in the room, even Vys. Some eyed her with repressed unease when she entered the planning room or walked through the palace, and there had been several passionate whispered arguments that passed between the king and other officials in the palace while both parties cast glances in Sreovel’s direction, but Oleja elected to ignore them. She had been told she could bring any trusted advisor of her choosing to the meetings, and she chose Sreovel. The king knew her—as did many others in the palace—since she supplied the king’s guards with weapons. But to some, apparently having her in their secure planning room crossed some unspoken line.

  But Oleja was the champion, and she did as she wished. Sreovel had given her helpful advice, both on the topic of fighting and in general. So Oleja brought her along.

  And besides, she knew useful information on the general workings of an eclipser camp. Who better to have as her advisor?

  “Leading the force through the mountains will be tough,” said Imalen. “It would seem wiser to me that we travel west through the valley, then south along the western edge of the mountains until they are merely hills. Then we travel up this way and head northeast to Itsoh.”

  “Too long,” said Edda. “The mountains are our people’s home terrain. They can travel them easily.”

  “But not in such large numbers,” said Imalen. “It may take longer, but the walk will be less strenuous, and the time saved is less than you anticipate. Travel through the mountains is slow.”

  “You realize you want to go several hundred miles out of the way, correct?” asked Vys.

  “The desert is our main concern,” said Edda. “Our people aren’t used to the heat. If we take a longer route, it should be to circumvent certain death in the endless sands, not to dodge a couple of tall rocks.”

  “The desert goes hundreds of miles to the north and to the south,” said Juldenn. “We can’t avoid it.”

  “We will have to enter the desert,” said Oleja with a reluctant nod. “We will plot the easiest path through it, drawn through reliable water sources and avoiding the hottest patches of the land. But we can’t avoid it altogether. We will have to be sure we can transport water in large quantities, and as long as we make camp during the days, we can walk under the night’s cool air. I have made the trek before, and that is what worked for me. The soldiers are hardy—they will manage.”

  The others around the table nodded. Juldenn stooped and traced his finger across some lines on the map.

  The door to the room opened and Helis stepped inside. In the far corner, Oleja saw two pointed ears poke up over the edge of the table. Tor slept there, but with Helis’s entrance it seemed he had perked up. A number of the others in the room greeted Helis.

  “I come with a message for the champion, direct from the king. The rest of you: leave us. Reconvene here in ten minutes.”

  None offered any protest or hesitation, save for Sreovel who cast a glance in Oleja’s direction and raised an eyebrow. Then she followed the others from the room. The door shut with a dull thud behind them, and then the room fell to silence.

  Helis lifted one heavy boot and placed it on the table’s edge, careful to avoid the delicate margin of the map. He leaned his arms on his knee and looked across the table at Oleja.

  “What is it?” asked Oleja. “We have a lot to do.”

  “You do indeed,” said Helis. He looked across the map, studying the lines and figures that stood in various spots across it. Oleja tapped her prosthetic against the table leg impatiently.

  “What message did the king send?” asked Oleja, stating her question again, more bluntly the second time.

  “Oh, he didn’t,” said Helis, looking back up and meeting her gaze. “The only one with a message for you is me.”

  “I don’t have time for—”

  “You do,” said Helis, his voice sharp.

  Oleja gestured with both hands. “Out with it then. You only gave the others a ten-minute break, and at this rate they’ll return before you’ve said a single meaningful word.” She paused, and then shrugged. “Though such will probably be the case regardless, whether you decide to share your message or not.”

  Helis did not respond for a moment, only held Oleja’s gaze. A gleam shone in his eyes, something she couldn’t name. It made her heart beat faster.

  “So wonderful to have a champion of the city,” said Helis at last. “Many seem very pleased that it’s you.”

  “Well, yes,” said Oleja in response.

  “Do you think, then, it would pain them all to learn that you are false?”

  In an instant, Oleja’s heartbeat took to even greater speeds, thundering in her chest with the force of the storm that raged through the valley the night she became champion. The night she pacified the mob. The night she toppled the boulder and freed the vault. The night she cheated on the fifth trial.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” asked Oleja, trying to imbue her words with a strong defiance, a confusion as to why he even suggested such a thing—the power of an honest and true leader.

  But she only felt fear and panic. She just prayed her face did not betray her.

  Helis took his foot off the table and stepped closer to Oleja with slow strides. His pendants of teeth and claws rattled together as he moved. “What it means,” he said, lowering his voice, “is that I was there. And I saw it. King Reungier may have trusted you that night, and he may have trusted Siord, the overseer who went with you. I trust the king, and I trust Siord as well as the other overseers. But I did not trust you, and I knew that if you wanted to deceive them both, you could. I refused to let you deceive me too. Ever since you beat me in the first trial, I’ve known you were playing some game. I don’t know how you cheated then, but I know you did—”

  Oleja let out a huff of laughter, though she never let her face slip from the expression of steely confidence she wore. “I didn’t cheat the first trial, I just beat you. Fairly. You are not as skilled a fighter as you think you are—not when your opponent can see your mind. I didn’t cheat the first trial, and I didn’t cheat the fifth—nor any in between.”

  “No?” asked Helis, cocking his head. “Then you didn’t use your prosthetic as a lever to shift the stone, directly disobeying the rule that one is not to use tools in the attempts on the final trial?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t presume to deny it, Oleja. I was there. I watched you do it.”

  Oleja clamped her mouth shut. “I thought none were permitted to watch the trial-goers attempt the fifth trial.”

  Helis raised an eyebrow. “They aren’t, but I do think—”

  “Then what if I told the king that you disobeyed that rule? His most trusted guard and advisor, going behind his back because he doesn’t trust his judgement.”

  “You think you have power in this situation?” asked Helis, narrowing his eyes. “If you tell the king what you know, I tell him what I know. And who do you think will get the sharper side of the axe of justice?”

  Oleja faltered. Helis spoke the truth. She had nothing to leverage; he had her backed into a corner, like nothing but a mouse that he toyed with.

  “I saw you cheat the trial not once, but twice,” continued Helis. “Storing things in your prosthetic—how low were you willing to stoop for this? I will admit, using the seablood to open the vault was a smart solution, but it was cheating nonetheless. I watched it all, Oleja. I know that you are not the true champion of the city, and that you only forced your way into the position for your own benefit. You lied to the king, and to the entire city of Ahwan. You stand within these walls now as a false hero.”

  “Is there a point you aim for, or are you only here to wave about your own sense of superiority? Will you try to kill me while the others are away? Even if you
succeed—and I will remind you that I have beaten you in a fight before—do you not think they would see you to your own grave? The king and his council and the people of the city adore me. How would they feel if you killed their new champion?”

  “Oh, I’m not here to kill you,” said Helis. “But you are right that for a crime as treacherous as yours, the price is immense. Should the king find out what you have done, the consequences could be grave. It seems to be in your best interest, then, that he not hear a word of this.”

  Oleja narrowed her eyes. “What point do you drive at?”

  Helis shrugged. “I won’t tell the king.”

  “Why?”

  With an incline of his head, Helis studied her. “‘Why?’ What, do you think I should tell the king? Because I can, if that is what you wish, oh great champion of Ahwan.”

  “No, you should not. I ask why you say you won’t.”

  “Because if I don’t,” started Helis, “I believe we may be able to come to some arrangement. I don’t want to tell the king what has happened, Oleja. It would crush him. It would crush the people of this city. They believe we have entered into a new age of prosperity, led by you, our valiant hero. Why would I want to rip that out from beneath them? No, I don’t want to tell the king. But I will, if I need to. And if you don’t accept my offer.”

  “What is your offer?”

  “I withhold the information I have; you work some favors for me. You have a newfound power that I don’t think you completely understand. And I think you can help me.”

  “What favors do you ask?”

  Helis shrugged. “I have a few things in mind, but anything that comes up, I suppose. I’m sure by now you’re familiar with Aukai’s Clan. As long as you do what I say, your secrets will remain under the cover of the rain and the thunder of the storm. Deal?” He stuck out his hand. Oleja stared down at it.

  “Tell me your demands. Then I will make my decision.”

  “Ah, there you are again, thinking you hold power in this situation.” He locked eyes with her. “You don’t.”