The Third Corridor

by The third corridor (NCP) (lit)

  Chapter Five

  Dex was in a full gallop. They made a stately entrance through the arena opening, to the cheers of at least fifty Nobles. Jerad brought Dex to a halt in the center of the floor. The Grandstage was a large open area, at least two hundred feet long and eighty feet wide with a thirty-foot ceiling. Tiers of bleachers surrounded the arena and were quickly being filled by citizens.

  The crowd grew silent as Jerad lowered Sera to the ground first. When Jerad dismounted, he crumbled to his knees. Sera reached for him. He was still weak.

  A page entered the floor, barely an adolescent, but much taller and stronger than Sera. He assisted Jerad to his feet.

  "The pouch Sera, and my sword." Jerad spoke to her almost imposingly.

  Sera did not hesitate. She removed the sack from the pommel. Then she withdrew Jerad’s sword. She did not know why he wanted her to pull the blade from the sheath at his side, but she complied. The crowd stirred. Sera was shaking with a surmounting uneasiness. The spectators were growing in numbers, summoned by the gong outside. It continued to resonate its booming sound.

  The citizens were beginning to push into any spaces they could fill, all Nobles, all crested and steadfastly watching them. Sera could not have anticipated such an exalted reception and she wished she could just crawl out the door and disappear into the sunset.

  Jerad threw the apprentice from him and stood autonomously taking the pouch from Sera’s hand. He nodded toward his sword. With both hands shaking, Sera extended it to him point up, hilt down, in the same manner that Jerad presented Zoren’s sword to her. She heard murmurs from the onlookers and gathered that her actions, whatever they were, must be the reason for it.

  The corners of Jerad’s mouth turned upward slightly. She had done exactly what he hoped she would do, further convincing him that she truly was the chosen one of the Edict. Sera had no comprehension of her actions, but it was apparent to the spectators. She was permitted to handle a Noble’s sword, a firm declaration that Jerad accepted her social position. Even more importantly, she had unwittingly held it out to him in a manner that symbolized equality. Once Jerad received the sword from her, he confirmed her status as being of Noble standing.

  The governing body of the Tenth Zone was called the Magistrate Council. There were five levels within it. In ascending order they consisted of the Proletariat Council, Inceptive Chancellors, Noble Chancellors, Chief Chancellors and Chief Councilor Seat. The Proletariat Council was represented by three seats held by hoi polloi, common people, one from each Corridor. They were elected to their seats by consensus of the commonality vote. The next four levels, the Chancellor positions were reserved only for those of pure bloodline, direct descendants of the higher Origins Nobles. The Inceptive Chancellors were of minor ranking and like the Proletariat, gained their positions by vote of the Nobles in their respective Corridors. Noble Chancellors held a position of mid-standing, and Chief Chancellors occupied higher level positions. One of the Chief Chancellors also held the Chief Councilor Seat, the overman of the Magistrate Council. He was known as the Archon, or Chief Magistrate. It was his or her duty to settle disputes among the Magistrate members. The decision of the Chief Magistrate was final.

  Typically two Nobles from each of the three Corridors would sit at each Chancellor level. There were no terms of service. Once voted to a seat, the position could only be relinquished through death, voluntary resignation or ousting because of a severe act of dishonor. Noble Chancellors, Chief Chancellors and the Chief Councilor Seats were only obtained through nomination by the Magistrate Council.

  At the moment there were only four Magistrate members in-house, Shegarth, the Chief Magistrate, two Inceptive Chancellors, and a Proletariat representative of the common citizens.

  Jerad stumbled closer and faced the Council members who were seated at the far end of the Grandstage. Despite his weakness he was clearly devoted to his purpose. He lowered to half kneel, sword blade resting across his bent knee. Shegarth rose to stand at the forefront of the Magistrate Council.

  "Welcome home Noble Chancellor Jerad, honored warrior, descendant of Antheia and," he smiled proudly, "my son."

  Jerad bowed his head to the Archon. "It is with much sorrow that I reveal, Palos my arming squire, son of the Grandhouse Tim, First Corridor of the Tenth Zone, who accompanied me to the First Kingdom, was slaughtered at tournament."

  A cry of agony arose from a section of benches, family and friends of Jerad’s attendant.

  Jerad continued, "Let it be known that he demonstrated great loyalty, courage and mastery of skill, contributing to my triumph in the final round. He has earned his gold ring."

  "Present the badge of victory to his bloodline," Shegarth ordered.

  A page appeared after a short pause. He carried a silver tray holding the badge, a crest with a white bloom centered on the red band. A solid gold ring pierced one of its pedals. He presented it to a young woman, the widow. She began to weep. An older woman sitting beside her, embraced her.

  Jerad drove his sword into the ground with a mighty force. "It was not all for naught that his life was lost." He pulled the cords from around the pouch and turned it over. "I bring to you, the head of Zoren and my claim to the First Kingdom!"

  The guillotined head rolled forward.

  A clamor of cheers arose from the tiers. Feet rhythmically pounded. Sera grimaced. The air of approval at the obvious violence was unsettling, and the stench was horrendous. Sera started backing toward the exit in the building. She was among savages. This was much too clear. She really needed to get out of there.

  "Be still!" Shegarth ordered the crowd, lowering his hands slowly, palms down.

  "Noble Jerad, at the event of your mother’s death, you swore an oath of abstinence until the time in which you could avenge the hideous acts committed against her. Although I realize you chose this course to feed your anger, the time has come to pass. On this very rise, let it be known that I declare you exonerated from your promise. You are free to present the device of your crest, to offer your cloak, at a time you deem appropriate."

  Jerad stood, still facing Shegarth. "I will offer now to the one I honor." His voice was firm and determined.

  The witnesses went silent. Sera had turned away and was almost to the opening leading outside when she slowed her pace, her curiosity overriding her want of flight. She was not sure if she understood correctly what the Chancellor said.

  Did he say that Jerad was celibate?

  Jerad crooked his finger toward a side entranceway. The young maiden, Phoebe came through it and approached Jerad. She was carrying a blue velvet pillow edged in gold fringe and bearing a long-stemmed, lavender blossom. Jerad removed the bloom from its resting place, holding it midway on the stem, between the thorns. He began circling the gallery, pointing the floret in the direction of the crowd. He located a female sitting in the benches and approached her. She extended her hand to accept the bloom, but Jerad shook his head, recanted, and placed it over the area of his heart. He bowed his head to her. Jerad drew his dagger, flipped it over, and placed it, grip first, into her palm. The crowd gasped. The woman scoffed at him.

  "By my own volition, I bid to one who has shown great loyalty to see me home."

  Jerad turned from the woman and faced Sera. Sera halted, her back still toward Jerad and the spectators. She had not seen what occurred between Jerad and the woman just moments before. Sera tensed, knowing that all eyes were on her, and that his comment was meant for her. Jerad approached. Sera could sense his presence behind her. With her escape plan now thwarted, Sera had but one choice. She turned to face him.

  He offered her the bloom.

  Sera paused.

  What was happening?

  She took several steps back and then hesitantly moved a few steps toward him. Jerad was offering her a token of gratitude. That was it. She really shouldn’t decline it.

  Should she?

  It would humiliate him if she did, and she really did not want to dishonor t
he gesture, especially in front of his people. Besides, who knew what the consequences would be if she did indeed refuse to accept it. At the least, Jerad would be embarrassed and thus be angry with her. The worst, his people might become violent, and Jerad had cautioned her, just before they entered the Grandstage, that his people were not always congenial. Aggression was obviously not too much frowned upon in this place. Sera really had no desire to find out if it was true. She would accept his offering.

  Sheepishly, Sera reached with her right hand, fingers widely spread. With much incertitude, she claimed the flower. At that moment a strange scintillation arced between them. Their bodies jerked at the same time. They held their breaths. Both Jerad and Sera stood motionless, gaping at each other, both still grasping the bloom, mesmerized by the enigmatic, ethereal haze that seemed to draw them together in a breathless melding of bodies, despite the three feet of space that separated them. When Jerad finally exhaled, Sera drew a breath so deep it felt as though she were capturing his basic essence. Sera felt nearly liquefied. She could swear that Jerad was drinking in her soul.

  It was the snarl behind him that alerted Jerad. He released the stem, giving Sera full claim to it. He then raised his arm, motioning toward one side of the gallery, his eyes in a continuous fixation with Sera’s. His expression was serious, but she could also detect his underlying uneasiness.

  An arming squire approached, placed a dagger in Sera’s left hand and draped a thick, long cloak over her arm. Jerad took the cloak, wrapped it around her left arm and once about her elbow. He drew a deep, anxious breath as he gazed into her confused eyes. He kissed her gently on the cheek.

  With his lips pressed to her, he whispered, "Hold the collar with your hand. The cloak is not a strong thing, do not trust in it. Use it only for warding off the blade and to distract."

  Then he warned, "She is scorned and will challenge you fully. The dagger requires the utmost in watching. Be steadfast, for she will show you no mercy. I trust you will not disappoint me."

  Jerad cupped her face and whispered against her lips. "Once again, I beg for your forgiveness."

  He moved away, leaving Sera staring at him in disbelief. Sera heard a furious growl. A woman with a dagger leapt from the benches and was heading toward her. Sera clenched her teeth and groaned. The legends of the Amazons came to mind, and they were all true. She found herself facing a gigantic warrior princess.

  It was not a pretty picture.

  She dropped the flower and transferred the dagger to her right hand. The woman lunged at her, and Sera was able to block the dagger hand of her opponent by grabbing her arm. She flipped the woman over her head, rolling backward on the ground to do so. They were both on their feet instantly, facing each other. Sera had a flicker of a moment to appraise the woman. She was clad in pants, and a sleeveless bodice embroidered with a yellow bloom and gold ring that pierced a petal. Facing this seasoned combatant was unnerving. Even worse, she wore a scabbard, a leather harness device held in place by a thick belt about her waist, and a strap which crossed her chest from her left hip to the opposing shoulder. It sheathed an immense sword. Sera leapt back in defense as the woman suddenly unbuckled the baldric and propelled it toward the chest of her arming squire, throwing him off balance slightly. The squire then draped a cloak over the woman’s arm, and she wrapped it quickly. Sera was grateful that she would not have to face the sword, realizing her own inadequacy with the weapon. Not that she was any more proficient with the cloak and dagger, but at least this type of weaponry would allow her closer contact with her opponent, and the potential to disarm her with the martial maneuvers that she was more accustomed to.

  "We the citizens in the Third Corridor of the Tenth Zone," cried a herald who had positioned himself on a high platform at the far end of the arena, "acknowledge that the warrior Sondra, descendant of Chloris, Second Corridor of Tenth Zone, accepts the Challenge for the Rite of the Cloak from…" He paused and looked at Sera, realizing he didn’t know her name. He continued. "... this chosen woman, for the cloak of Jerad, descendant of Antheia, Third Corridor of the Tenth Zone."

  The woman immediately began a succession of snaps with her cloak toward Sera’s face, and rushed toward her. Sera, caught off guard, began stumbling backward to avoid the advances of the cloak, and to track the dagger being thrust at her. It thankfully did not make contact. Sera forthwith was out of control, and could do nothing but recoil from the aggressive charge. A cut, a thrust, another cut, and Sera finally managed to entangle the blade with her cloak, but the woman briskly withdrew it before it became trapped. This afforded Sera enough time to recoup, and she lurched at her adversary with several thrusts. The woman leapt back, beating off Sera’s weapon with her cloak. She chortled at Sera’s incompetence as she drew her knife horizontally and toward Sera’s head. Sera reflexively crouched and surged, ramming her shoulder into the woman’s stomach, knocking her to the ground.

  She had a brief, irrevocable opportunity to jab her dagger into the woman’s abdomen, but could not bring herself to do it. Sera’s opponent reclaimed her stance unperturbed, and Sera could swear the woman mumbled the word fool under her breath. Leading with her right foot, the woman propelled an angled, upward thrust toward the bottom of Sera’s rib cage.

  A deadly strike if it had hit its target.

  The barbarian meant to kill her!

  Sera opposed the oncoming dagger with the folds of her cloak and attempted to drive her own blade toward the woman’s side.

  She missed.

  The woman anticipated the tactic, leapt back and untwirled the cloak to its full length without releasing it. The cloak fell over Sera’s head blinding her with the throw. Sera reflexively reached up and grabbed the garment.

  It was a terrible mistake.

  She exposed her midsection in the process.

  Without warning, a biting strike to her abdomen caused her to seize and grab her side. Sera cried out, but with her position being most precarious, she had no presence to occupy herself with the pain. What she wanted to do was run, but was keen to her opponent’s precipitance to make the kill. Sera caught sight of the impending blade. By mere intuition or perhaps it was by chance, she brought her cloaked arm toward the thrusting dagger, and somehow trapped it in several of the wrapped folds. The tip of it protruded toward her and barely missed slashing the skin of her cloaked arm. The woman jerked her cloak back and in one swift motion she once again had it wrapped around her arm.

  Sera moved in and hooked her heel around the opponent’s back leg. Simultaneously, she brought the flat of her dagger against the woman’s cloaked forearm. The woman began pushing Sera’s blade downward while jerking back on her other arm in an attempt to free her tangled blade from Sera’s cloak. Sera resisted the pressure from the block, straining against the woman’s superior strength.

  She thought the blood vessels in her face would burst.

  Sera angled her knife slightly. It cut through the opponent’s cloak. A stain of blood seeped through the woman’s skin, caused by the dint of the blade’s edge. Sera pushed with all of her might against the arm of her attacker. She didn’t know how she managed it, but Sera finally swept the woman’s leg out from under her. The woman fell backward pulling Sera with her. As her back slammed against the ground, Sera’s opponent thrust her trapped blade upward. It came dangerously close to Sera’s chest. Sera arched her back, thus eluding yet another wound, as she fell to bent knees. Sera extended her arm and pinned her opponent’s dagger hand with the flat of her palm. The knuckles of Sera’s other hand felt crushed. She had fallen on them while still clinging to her blade. She realized at once, that the point of her knife was inches from the woman’s neck. Without hesitation she thrust it inward, and penetrated nearly a third of flesh until she felt resistance from the bone in her neck. Insensible to nothing but an innate need for survival, Sera, without thinking about what she was doing, ripped and twisted the blade forward, causing her opponent’s head to rise slightly from the ground. The weight o
f the flesh against the blade gave added force to continue cutting until the women’s neck was released from the dagger, and dropped back to the ground with a thud. Sera’s hand swung inward, lacking further resistance. Sera raised the blade, ready to strike again, but her challenger was gurgling, and within seconds, the warrior Sondra was dead.

  Sera dropped her dagger, appalled at what she had just done. She rose to her feet and backed away. Suddenly, she was overcome with pain. Sera pressed her hand to her side. Blood was flowing between the crevices of her fingers. Sera began to lose her senses, stumbling about until she doubled over and fell to the ground.

  "The bloom," a voice whispered to her close to her ear.

  "What?" There was clear agitation in Sera’s voice.

  "You must claim the bloom."

  Sera did not recognize the voice but lifted up her head to see it was Phoebe who spoke to her. She attempted to locate the flower, having reason enough to conclude that for now, without full understanding of the consequences for disobedience, it was better to do as she was told. She didn’t need anymore knives coming her way. It was then that she felt herself being lifted. Jerad knelt before her, and put her upright to her knees. She leaned heavily against his bent knee and supporting arm. The flower was in his hand. She looked at it, still thinking that it very much resembled an elegant rose in full bloom. Once again, Sera accepted it from him. She held the stem lightly, to avoid the prick of its large thorns.

  There was stirring from the spectators, but whether it was friendly or hostile Sera could not determine. Her head and body began to sway and she started to fall backwards, but Jerad caught her in his arms. His look was intense despite its paleness from the physical disturbance to his own body. She began to drift again.

  "Sera," he whispered to her, bringing her somewhat back to reality. Someone was tightly wrapping a bandage around her ribs.

  She heard the sound of a cornet. The Chief Magistrate, Shegarth stood before them. "We will commence with the Rite of the Cloak on the fifth..."