The Cycle of Galand Box Set

by Edward W. Robertson

  The whiskered man ushered the crowds back, clearing a circle. He came back to Blays and Cord. "This isn't a fight to submission nor to the death. Merely to first fall."

  Blays tamped the sack end of the pole against the plaza stones. "If you get knocked down, you lose?"

  Cord scoffed. "What kind of an Arm doesn't know how to duel?"

  Blays cocked his head. "Enjoying this, are you?"

  "We're standing in the sun. We're about to fight. What's not to enjoy?"

  He hefted his weapon. "If you're in such a good mood, mind giving me a minute to get the feel of this thing?"

  "Practice all you like. If you think it will help."

  Blays gave her a look, motioned Dante and Naran back, then took a few exploratory jabs and swipes with the wheel. Dante had almost no firsthand experience with a spear, but he could tell by watching that the wheel, due to its weighted end, handled significantly different.

  After a minute of practice, Blays brought his feet together, resting the ball of the wheel on the ground. "Thanks for your indulgence, Cord. Now are you ready for your drubbing?"

  She frowned at him. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a lesson first?"

  "Cord!" Ked shouted. "Will you get on with it?"

  The woman twisted her head his way. "What joy is there in defeating an infant?"

  "This isn't about joy. It's about honor."

  "Honor is joy."

  "I may not have a Collener's experience," Blays said. "But I've had a weapon in my hand since I had the strength to swing one. Let's do this."

  She grinned at him. "Think your spirit will make up for your lack of skill?"

  They faced off twelve feet away from each other, out of range of the wheels' reach. The crowd fell back several steps.

  The old man overseeing the duel lifted his right hand. "In the witness of all, let the purity of combat guide us to truth."

  He dropped his arm and backpedaled away. Cord stalked forward, smiling broadly, her wheel held in her hands like a staff. Blays edged to his right, holding his weapon closer to the ball, spear-like. Cord flicked the pointed end at Blays' legs. He deflected it with a deft gesture. She repeated the probe. Blays intercepted, letting the shaft of his weapon guide her spearpoint past him, and jabbed toward her midsection.

  She swept her wheel sideways into Blays', knocking the point of his weapon wide. She shifted her grip toward the pointed end and whipped her wheel into a spin so fast it whistled through the air. The weighted end slammed into the back of Blays' ankles.

  His feet swapped places with his head. He tucked his chin to his chest, twisting his body to land on his right shoulder. As he fell, he slapped his right hand against the setts, landing in a pile. His wheel clattered away. The audience lifted their arms and cheered.

  Cord planted the ball of her wheel on the stones, leaning on the pole. She frowned down at Blays. "Why, you're not any good at this at all!"

  Blays untangled himself and sat up, rubbing a skinned elbow. "Maybe you're too good at it. Ever thought about that?"

  Naran nudged Dante's ribs. "What now?"

  "I apologize or something and we get on our way," Dante said. "And I never try to help anyone ever again."

  Blays stood and dusted himself off with a series of claps. He turned to Ked and bowed low. "The gods have spoken. You were right. My friend's a prick."

  The old man moved to the middle of the ad hoc ring. "Cord, Arm of Ked, has won the duel to first fall. Ked, what boon do you choose from the defeated?"

  Ked cleared his throat, chin held high. "I choose service."

  "Service it is. As a duel of first to fall, the offender will serve the offended for a time of three months."

  "Hold on," Dante said. "Boon? Service?"

  "Of course," Ked said. "What did you think the duel was about?"

  "Honor?"

  Ked laughed. "Do you really think that knocking your Arm on his ass makes up for what you took from me? A duel judges guilt. Now that you've been found guilty, it's time to decide your sentence. You're a sorcerer, yes? Three months spent killing the Mallish for me should start to make up for stealing my deathright."

  "You're lucky I bothered to play along with this farce until now. Walk away with your honor intact."

  "You're in Collen now. Bound by Collen's laws. You—"

  Shadows rushed from the pavement, whirling around Dante's hands. "I am bound by nothing."

  "Sirs and madams." Blays stepped forward, barring an arm across Dante's chest. "I request a minute to confer with my colleague."

  The old man's whiskers twitched. "This isn't how things are done."

  "Highly unusual, I'm sure. But unless you'd prefer to see everyone in this square turned inside-out, you need to give me a damn minute with my friend."

  The man swallowed and stepped back, speaking softly to Ked.

  Blays pulled Dante aside, nodding Naran over as well. "Threats of violence are wonderful things. But if you want to get anything done in this city after this, we need to find a way to settle our differences without offending their basic sense of justice."

  Dante gritted his teeth. "I'm not going to be this idiot's servant. Especially not if he means to use me as a weapon against Mallon. That's the last thing we need. This is so stupid!"

  "Do you want to solve the problem? Or do you want to keep whining about it?"

  "I don't see why those have to be mutually exclusive."

  "We have two options." Blays began to pace. "First, you can deny their claims and get us kicked out of Collen. That won't stop us from coming back, but it will make it much harder to follow the shaden. And it will probably make it impossible to get answers about Gladdic's transformation."

  "So my alternative is to knuckle under to their ridiculous demands in the hope it'll make it easier for us to find answers we don't know are here."

  Naran tapped the tip of his nose. "If you're the only one who has to 'serve,' Blays and I could still move freely. As soon as we've found the shaden, you could leave with us."

  "That's not the worst idea on earth," Dante said, relaxing marginally. "Though I was really hoping to get some research done."

  Blays shrugged. "If they think it's going to help you fight the Mallish for them, maybe they'll let you do all the research you want."

  "The only other idea I've got is to hunker down in the woods until the norren get my loon to Narashtovik." Dante went still. "Unless. What happens if I refuse to serve?"

  "Oh, I'm sure they'll just let you walk away. Either that, or they'll attempt to lock you up in chains, at which point you'll attempt to irrigate their fields with their blood."

  Dante raised his voice to Ked and the old man. "What happens if I tell you no?"

  "You can't do that!" Ked said.

  The old man folded his arms. "If service is refused, a second duel must be fought. But this time, to the death."

  Cord clapped her hands together. "Excellent!"

  "I refuse my service," Dante said. "And accept this new duel."

  A frisson sparked through the crowd, most of which had remained present while Dante was conferring with Blays. The old man looked to Ked, who nodded.

  "A second duel it is," the old man said. "Will you be using Arms?"

  "Damn right," Ked said.

  Dante held back a smile. "What happens if I decline my Arm?"

  "Then you must fight for yourself." the old man said.

  "And who chooses weapons?"

  "Why, you would."

  Dante nodded. "Then I decline my Arm."

  "Very well. Choice of weapons?"

  "The nether."

  "What!" Ked squawked. "That's cheating!"

  "They're your rules, asshole." Dante unbuckled his sword and cast it aside. "But since I'm such a good sport, I'll offer you an alternative: we drop the whole thing and walk away."

  Several of the onlookers chuckled. A handful jeered Ked. His face reddened. "Maybe…"

  The old man shook his head. "You've already accepted. By
law, you must proceed."

  "Don't worry, Ked," Cord said. "This is my duty. It must be done."

  Ked flung his hands wide. "But you don't know how to use the nether!"

  "I know that, you fool." She tossed aside her wheel. "I'll just do as the old ones did and use my bare hands."

  Ked looked as though he might vomit. Cord rolled her neck, cracking it, and did some toe-touches.

  "Er," Blays said. "Are you really planning to kill her?"

  "It'll be fine," Dante said.

  The spectators cleared a wide ring around them. The whiskered old man moved to its middle.

  "This mortal duel will settle all matters between the two opponents. Understood?" He waited for Dante, Ked, and Cord to nod. "Then fight with the grace of the gods."

  He scampered back. Cord bounced on the balls of her feet and sprinted toward Dante. Dante called the shadows to him. Before he had a plan, she was leaping for him. He dived to the side, landing on the setts and doing his best to remember Blays' lessons about how to fall without hurting yourself. He got to his feet and ran back, palms and knees stinging.

  "Running isn't fighting!" Cord yelled. She popped to her feet and charged again.

  Dante plunged his mind into the stones before her. He took hold of the nether within a rectangular swath and softened the material to mud. Cord plunged into it, falling to the knees. As she bellowed oaths of surprise, Dante hardened the mud back into rock, catching her fast.

  "Hey!" She grabbed her right thigh and pulled. Her leg didn't budge. "What low-down treachery is this?"

  "I win," Dante said. "I've killed you."

  Cord formed an O with her mouth. Then began to laugh. "No you haven't! Could a dead woman do this?" She produced two fists and extended the middle finger of both.

  "You can't get out, can you? So you have two choices. One, we call it a draw, I let you free, and we all go our separate ways. Or two…I leave you here until the sun kills you. And I win."

  "What's the matter? Don't have the heart for killing?"

  "Trust me, he's got the heart," Blays said. "Along with the liver, kidneys, lungs, spleen, and gonads. If you can believe it, this is him being merciful."

  "Mercy." Cord spat in the dust. She strained her legs again, then relaxed, considering Dante. "You're Mallish, aren't you?"

  "By birth," Dante said. "I haven't lived there in years."

  "Then I choose to stay right here. I'll have been killed by one of the Mallish. The highest honor I can receive."

  "You can't be serious!"

  She wrinkled her brow. "This is what I've always wanted. It's the honorable thing to do."

  Dante sighed heavily. "Fine then. Glad to have given you your fondest dream."

  He turned and walked away.

  "Wait!" Ked called. He jogged behind Dante, slowing to a halt, his face anguished. "You can't just leave her."

  "Really? Because everyone here seems intent on forcing me to do just that."

  "Let her go. Please."

  Dante crossed his arms. "And it's settled between us?"

  Ked bobbed his head. "I concede. Victory's yours."

  "No it's not!" Cord grabbed her thigh, pulling mightily. "Come a little closer and I'll show you how much life I've got left in me."

  The old man tugged the whiskers on one cheek. "He's conceded, Cord. Duel's over."

  Hearing the official pronouncement, Dante returned to the nether in the stone holding Cord fast. To give them a bit of a show, he snapped his fingers, shifting the rock into mud. She fell forward with a grimy splash.

  Gesturing to Naran and Blays, Dante walked toward the nearest road out of the square. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew quite firmly that he wanted to get away. Black stone buildings looked down on him.

  "We got out of that without killing anyone," Blays said. "A modern miracle!"

  Dante shook his head. "I've never had someone work so hard to make me kill them."

  "Except Cassinder."

  "Well yeah. But he deserved it."

  "Despite the relatively happy turn of events, I think you should treat this as a lesson. When we're traveling someplace unfamiliar, it's probably not a great idea to dive into a situation knowing nothing of local culture."

  "Ked was dying," Dante said. "How was I to know he'd take getting healed as a mortal insult?"

  "If our travels have taught me nothing else, it's that the entire world is insane. There's probably somewhere out there where they'd sock you in the jaw for handing them a sack of pure gold."

  "Ah," Naran said. "So you've been to the Belbring Islands?"

  Dante swerved around a puddle of wet blood whose owner had probably been all too happy to shed it. "Play it careful from here on out. We're here to capture the shells and find out what we can about Gladdic. We can't afford to get dragged into local conflicts."

  By universal agreement, their first order of business was to find an inn where they could wash off the grime of travel and catch up on local gossip. Though the city's blocky, flat-roofed brick and basalt structures looked unfriendly, they soon located a rollicking pub surrounded by stables with lodging upstairs.

  After a quick bath each, the three of them returned downstairs to scare up information. At the moment, most of the building's activity was concentrated under the roofed-in patios, leaving the common room relatively quiet.

  They ordered a meal of what turned out to be noodles jumbled with bits of goat and asparagus. After, Dante flagged down their server.

  "I'm looking for your best library," he said. "Public or private."

  The man stacked their sturdy earthenware plates. "What is it you're looking for?"

  "History and theology."

  "I'm not much for reading. But I'll ask Bree. She's got a nose for books." The man headed off with their plates. He came back five minutes later. "Bree says there's no doubt about it. You'll want the Reborn Shrine."

  He provided directions. Dante tipped him from their dwindling supply of coins. The man trundled off.

  Dante turned to the others. "No sense wasting time. I'm going to the shrine."

  "We'll look into the shaden," Naran said. "What if we need to find you?"

  "No worries on that front," Blays laughed. "He's got new lore to track down. He'll be in that shrine so long they'll have to start charging him rent."

  Blays and Naran went to the bar to order drinks and circulate through the patios. Dante headed outside. It was malevolently hot, but the elevated butte had a good breeze going for it, blowing steadily out of the southwest. It was probably brutally windy in the fall and winter. Which explained why most of the windows were on the northeast sides of the buildings.

  In the streets, the people were your average spectrum of city folk, with a large number of farmers mixed in—"earthers," they seemed to be called—as well as soldierly-looking people with ribbons tied around their elbows. Dante continued to draw stares, but most weren't overtly hostile.

  He made the final turn to the shrine and stopped in his tracks. Ahead, open ground surrounded a complex of stone structures. Some were partially or wholly demolished, but there was no mistaking their religious nature.

  As to what religion…Dante had no idea. In Mallon, the churches tended to be baroque, full of statues and buttresses that seemed to be less about buttressing and more about impressing. In Narashtovik, the cathedrals were angular and severe, though no less tall. By contrast, the central building of the Reborn Shrine was bell-shaped, its peak eighty feet high. Rather than being composed of a single type of stone—basalt would have been the natural choice, given its prevalence in the basin—it was patchwork, a harlequin blend of basalt, sandstone, limestone, and at least three different types of granite. Some pieces glittered in the sun while others drank in all light. Even the dome was split between gray, yellow, and a white rock shot through with bright flecks of silver.

  As Dante stood gawking, a robed figure emerged from a small domed tower beside the main structure and strolled over to him. Th
e monk was young, his blond hair cut so close to his scalp it glowed like a fuzzy halo.

  "Are you a visitor to the Reborn Shrine?" As the monk spoke, his gaze flicked over Dante's black hair and gray eyes, but his voice was timid, clean of any hostility.

  "I am," Dante said. "I came to use your library. But this building, it's…stunning."

  The monk turned, glancing at the main temple as if just noticing it. "Ah, yes. It's the pride of the city."

  "I've never seen anything like it. Why go to the trouble of using so many different kinds of stone?"

  "Ah. The different stones. You see, in one sense, what you're looking at isn't a single shrine, but many. Each time the Mallish invade, they destroy the shrine. And each time we rebuild it, we use a different kind of stone. This way, Mallon's crimes are visible at a glance. After the twelfth cycle of destruction and rebirth, Arawn himself will step forth from the doors of the Reborn Shrine to lay waste to Mallon." The young monk looked at him from the corners of his eyes, blushing. "Or so it's said."

  "So it's been destroyed ten times already?"

  "Did you count the varieties of stone?"

  Dante pointed to the shrine's entrance. Above the doors, a stylized sailing vessel was carved into a chunk of pure white stone.

  "That's Phannon," he said. "The earthly waters. Eleventh sign of the Celeset. I assume the count started with Arawn?"

  "A nice deduction. Ten times this place has been torn down. And ten times it's been rebuilt. The most recent reconstruction followed the Third Scour."

  "It hasn't been harmed in the last century?"

  The monk allowed himself a tentative smile. "Much longer than average. Maybe the Mallish are afraid to fulfill the prophecy." He beckoned toward the main building. "Would you like to see the inside?"

  "Very much so." Dante fell in beside him.

  The monk cleared his throat. "Ah. You said you were here for the library?"

  "That's right. I'm a monk myself. Devotee of Carvahal. I've traveled from Gallador in search of certain knowledge. Have you ever heard of something called a Star-Eater?"

  The monk shook his head.

  Dante laughed modestly. "I know so little about my subject that I'm not sure if I'm even looking for information on Star-Eaters. More broadly, I'm looking for knowledge about…demons. Or perhaps people who can become demons."