"In the air?" Mekal asked curiously.
"Nai. It is true. Those barbarians from the Fourth Zone were testing their shatter arrows and were too distracted to see her. She appeared suddenly and plunged to the ground."
"And what did you do?"
"I fell off my horse."
Mekal snorted. It was well too obvious his friend was besotted with more than his spirits. It was no hex. It was a matter of the heart.
"Agapao."
Jerad raised his head. "Love?"
Mekal smirked. "You love her."
Jerad narrowed his eyes. His confidante looked much too amused. He would like to thwack that sappy grin clear from his face.
"She will not leave my head! The Oneroi has bewitched me with lust for her to ensure their decree is fulfilled. It is simply that!"
"If it is as you say, then there is naught a reason for the Challenge."
Jerad raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "By what reason?"
"Accept the terms of the charges. Dissolve the marriage and relinquish Sera to servitude in Aryan’s clan. If she truly is the Ptino asteri, the Edict will come to pass regardless."
"Give up Sera?"
It was unthinkable.
Jerad sneered at Mekal. "So that you may have her?"
"What is this you assume? I have no design for her."
"She is charmed by you."
"Bah!" Mekal slashed a hand through the air.
"She did not deny it when I asked."
Mekal watched Jerad thoughtfully, wondering why Sera reacted as such. Mekal had no answer. He and Sera were friends, nothing more.
"Regardless, I am powerless when she is not with me. I am incapable of giving her up."
"Yet you say it does not bother you that she refuses your Marks," Mekal replied, leaning lazily against the arm of the couch.
"Unquenched desire. Nai, that is it. I have not been able to join with her. It is maddening."
Mekal burst into laughter. "You have not consummated your marriage?"
Jerad was seriously going to clout his dear confidante--just as soon as the floor stopped moving.
"After all of our conversations about seducing a woman and you have been unable to bed your own wife?" Mekal pressed his lips together, desperately resisting the unbearable urge to badger Jerad about this amusing disclosure.
"It was not for lack of trying!" Jerad barked. He then lowered his voice. It was quite humiliating. "The doing is not the same as the telling."
Jerad’s expression turned gloomy. "I am lower than a slimy flub at the bottom of a swamp, Mekal."
"Why do you say such a thing?"
"I nearly took her in the forest against her will. If it were not for her blood curdling scream, I surely would have. Then I tried to do the same thing to her on the last luna."
"I am sure she appreciated that."
Jerad grunted. "She hates me, and I do not blame her."
"Nonsense. I see the way she looks at you, filos. She loves you." Mekal cleared his throat. "I would however, suggest a gentler approach with her."
"Such as, my almighty and wise mentor?" Jerad asked acerbically.
Mekal snickered at his sarcasm. "What do you do when your horse throws you? Walk away?"
"Ochi, I stroke the creature gently before attempting to mount it again." Jerad paused to consider the humor in his statement. "But Sera is not a horse."
He angled his eyes upward in thought. "Although she does have nice teeth."
Mekal laughed, leaned forward and slapped Jerad on his back. He stood, offered his hand and yanked Jerad to his feet. "Come my friend, you have a bigger bird to spear at the moment."
Jerad rose, returned a slap to the side of Mekal’s shoulder, and nearly fell over. "You have been loyal my confidante, all these term cycles. Yet, it was always Aryan I gave first regard to."
"There is no shame in being second to your right. It has ever been an honor to be called your friend, Jerad."
Mekal turned to leave.
"Mekal."
Mekal paused and looked over his shoulder.
"I will see you at the Grandstage, my friend."
"You shall." He confirmed with a nod.
Mekal closed the door behind him and leaned against it. What a muddle his confidante had gotten himself into. Now, where could Sera be?
Chapter Nineteen
Sera tried to sleep with little success. The damp, wooden boards beneath her held little comfort for her aching body, and the short, narrow benches could only suffice as a place to rest her head. They were much too small to recline on. Her arm was numb from laying her head on it. She was cold and thirsty and miserable.
A slight tugging on Sera’s finger roused her, and she lifted her head. A tiny shrew was nibbling on the tip of her fingernail. She raised her other hand, and with a single finger, gently stroked the tiny body of the creature. She expected it to flee, but to her surprise, it did not. Instead, it climbed onto the back of her hand, stood on its hind legs, front paws dangling, black eyes staring, and twitched its pink, little nose. Sera picked up the shrew and cupped it between her palms, glad at least for some minute company.
Sera looked at the brightening sky, and shivered with the chill of the rise. The marketplace was stirring to life. She did not hear the horse drawing near but heard the clacking of boots striking the gazebo floor as someone approached from behind her. Before she could turn around, a cloak was draped around her and two large hands framed her shoulders.
Sera turned to look.
Mekal was thoroughly aggravated with Sera when he set out to find her, and meant to tell her so. She set his friend’s heart to tatters with her behavior, rejecting him when he was willing to die for her--and insinuating that there might be illicit affection between her and Mekal himself?--well, that was simply detestable.
Mekal had every intention of laying his ridicule upon her, but reeled in his irritation when he saw her face. The sorrow he glimpsed there was heartrending. She was pale. Her eyes were red and swollen. She looked so thoroughly defeated--so sad.
"You have been crying." He felt sympathy for her instead.
"What are you doing here, Mekal?"
Mekal released her and stood. He strolled to a bench and sat down, propping his elbows on the railing behind him.
"I was worried about you." He realized then, that he truly was.
"Yes, of course. You are a guardian. It is your duty."
"Nai, I am a guardian, but perhaps it is also something else."
"Something else?"
"I could be missing my sister."
"What has that to do with me?"
"When Jerad brought you to the Corridor, my memories of her returned. Close to your age she would be now, a mere twenty term cycles."
"I am much older than that."
Mekal shrugged. "If you say."
"Where is your sister?"
"My mother had gone feebleminded after my sister’s birth, spewing nonsense about the Origins appearing to her and telling her that Ekaterina must be sacrificed."
"How frightening."
"I was but seven term cycles and did not fully comprehend, but it was clear that my mother was not in her right mind. Despite our close watch on her she still managed to slip away with Kati. Ten rises we searched for them and when we finally found my mother, she was alone. Ekaterina was gone."
"What happened to her?"
"My mother claimed that all would be well. She had done as the Origins of her visions had instructed. She left my sister in the Mountains of Eksaf ‘anise. We never found her. Kati was but six rise cycles then. There is no possibility that such a young babe could have survived.
When I first saw you, there was a familiar presence about you, your posturing, the way you looked. I thought perhaps--Ochi. I was mistaken. Ekaterina’s eyes were a very deep brown."
"Like yours?"
"Like mine."
Mekal stood and treaded across the wooden floor. He folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against one of the gazeb
o’s wooden posts.
"Your place is at your consort’s side, Sera. Jerad is distraught by your denial of him and will not have full wits when he battles Aryan this rise."
"He still fights?" She asked disbelievingly, standing abruptly. "B--but I told him I would not be his wife! Why is he still challenging?"
"Ah, now I can put purpose to your reasoning, foolish as it may be." Her intent was to stop the Challenge. It made perfect sense to him now. "Of course he still fights, woman. Your honor has been besmirched."
"Shit, Mekal! Take me to him now!"
Sera slipped the shrew into the pocket of the cloak, not giving a thought as to why she was keeping it.
Mekal mounted his charger without hesitation. He hoisted Sera to sit behind him in the saddle.
"Hurry!" She ordered Mekal.
Sera read about the Challenges in the Protogio Principles and could even understand why they might be necessary. Understanding however, did not mean that she was willing to accept.
There were three types of Challenges considered legal by the Zone dictates. The first, was the Challenge for the Rite of the Cloak. The second, an Honor Challenge could be issued for lesser crimes such as thievery or slander. Severe injuries might occur during an Honor Challenge, but death blows were not allowed. The rivals fought until one of them called a halt, or in the case of obstinacy, until the Magistrate Council called a halt and decided on a victor themselves. The Death Challenge could only be issued when a horrendous crime had been committed. Murder, rape and torture were among these crimes. With a Death Challenge, only the rivals could call a halt, and whoever called the halt would forfeit the Challenge. If it so happened that one of them fell unconscious or lay mortally wounded before dying, the other contender could call for a victory or slay the rival if he wished to do so. Such was the nature of the Death Challenge.
Guilt for crimes was decided by the Magistrate Council. It was based on the evidence presented and with witness testimony. Once guilt was determined, the victim of the crime could offer for approval, what they deemed to be an appropriate punishment. Though most disputes or accusations were settled to the agreement of the victim and without a Challenge being issued, occasionally the victim or the victim’s clan would be so outraged by the violation that only a public, physical pummeling would satisfy them. A Challenge might then be requested. Challenges were a catharsis of sorts, and served to alleviate anger and dispel further violence or retaliation by those involved. Both the Honor Challenge and Death Challenge required approval by the Magistrate Council, and the rules guiding them were very strict. First and foremost, rivals of the Challenge must possess evenly matched skills. If this was not possible, the Magistrate could deny the Challenge. Second, at least three non-biased witnesses from Magistrate Council had to be present. Third, the criminal could refuse the Challenge, but in doing so would have to accept the harshest of punishments agreed upon by the victim and the Council. The same would occur if the offender accepted a Challenge and lost. However, if the offender accepted and won the Challenge a less severe punishment would be rendered. No further retribution was allowed by the victim, and the matter would be considered settled.
Sera knew she could not call a halt to the Challenge. She could only hope that she wasn’t too late to beg Jerad not to go forth with it. She could plead for mercy from the Magistrate Council, or perhaps Aryan’s clan would take pity on her. She would publicly swallow her dignity if she had to, and if all else failed, she would throw herself between Aryan and Jerad. She would do anything to save her husband--anything.
"Will we get there in time?" Sera was immensely worried.
"It depends on how many contenders are present to demonstrate their skills."
Challenges gave opportunity for the apprentices and squires to earn respect and recognition among their peers and superiors. Jousts, blade competitions, and quintain were the sports of choice. The tournaments typically began in the early rise with the least experienced competing first.
The event often drew an excess of spectators, and this Challenge was no different. When rumor spread that the two Noble Chancellors were to battle, many outside the Zone, intent on traveling elsewhere turned their horses about and made haste for the Third Corridor to watch or participate in the events. Indeed, the Grandstage was overflowing with citizens clambering for space to witness the Death Challenge between Jerad and Aryan, a rare event in the least, and one not to be missed.
The merchants from the Zone were delighted. Many arrived during the luna to seize the opportunity to sell their wares and fill their pockets. Sera was appalled at the festive atmosphere and cheerful demeanor of the citizens. Wagers were being made, and from the looks of the gems being used, the stakes were high. Long wooden tables and makeshift booths were assembled along the main path. There was music and dancing, and the bartering and buying of goods. Colorful streamers were hung about, and citizens were proudly displaying the crests of their Zones. The marketplace was brimming with activity and was so overcrowded that Mekal abandoned his attempts to maneuver his charger and hired a stable master to care for his horse. He and Sera were forced to walk the rest of the way. The crowd had begun to swarm, attempting to get closer to the Grandstage area. Weaving through the nearly impenetrable throng was proving to be an arduous task. Not that the hoi polloi would be allowed inside. Only Nobles were permitted entrance to the arena. The commoners were left to rely on the mouth to mouth relay to describe what was happening in the Grandstage.
Sera’s heart beat quickened to a panicky rate when she heard the shouts arising. Jerad and Aryan had entered the floor.
"Oh, Mekal!" Sera wailed above the noise of the crowd. "We have to get there!"
"Nai!" Mekal yelled back. He gripped her arm and jostled forward. "Aside! Aside now for the Noble Sera!"
The crowd slowly parted.
Delilah was perched on Aryan’s thick leather gauntlet when he entered the floor. The falcon was hooded, but the raptorial bird was unusually agitated this rise.
The spectators clamored and stomped their feet at first glimpse of the warrior. The noise grew even louder when Jerad entered on the other side. Jerad scanned the gallery, locating Ezra, Mesari and Phoebe, but Sera was nowhere to be seen. He was downcast by her absence, proof that she did not care.
He turned his attention to his rival, watching as Aryan placed Delilah on a wooden block near the side of the Grandstage. In like with Jerad, Aryan had forgone wearing the metal armor often donned during hazardous Challenges, choosing the leather coverings instead. The softer material allowed more freedom of movement, but also made the combatants more susceptible to injury from a strike.
A long lavender scarf was tied about Aryan’s upper sword arm, the scarf Jerad’s parents forced him to present to Sondra at his maiden tournament, and along with it, his betrothal to her. He was just ten term cycles old then. Jerad winced with guilty conscience at the memory, remembering how awkward and juvenile he felt at the time. To him, it was just a game he played. Never could he surmise that it would come to this.
Aryan circled the Grandstage.
Delilah flapped her long wings and frantically rubbed the straps of her hood against her perch.
Jerad assumed a defensive stance, arm crossed over the front of his body, gripping and releasing the hilt of his sword. He would not draw first blade. If Aryan still intended on fighting him, he would have to make the first move.
Aryan bit his lower lip, exposed his teeth and gnarled. He drew his sword and rushed forward. Jerad met him with the clashing of their blades.
The straps of Delilah’s hood broke loose and it fell to the ground. Bated, her preying eyes locked on the flailing scarf tied around Aryan’s arm.
Fluttering--wings--prey.
Delilah flapped her mighty wings and swooped, latching onto Aryan’s arm and pecking at the lavender scarf. Jerad froze. Aryan flinched, startled at his well-trained falcon’s attack. He recovered instantly and called off, attempting to flush the bird from its game
. The knot on the scarf came loose. Delilah snatched her quarry, clamping it in her beak. She circled high and then dove toward…
Sera.
Sera stood in utter fear as the falcon descended. She raised her hand to protect her face as Delilah came to rest quietly on her uplifted arm.
Thank goodness Mekal’s cloak was draped over her. Even so, she could feel the bite of its talons. Delilah opened her mouth. The scarf fell to drape around Sera’s arm. The spectators gasped and then silence echoed through the arena. Jerad and Aryan abandoned their conflict and watched.
"Shoo bird," Sera cautiously muttered, not quite knowing what else to do.
Get this thing off of me!
She stared into its eyes--eyes that were remarkably the same color as her own.
Bird eyes--I have bird eyes--ugh!
The tiny shrew made its appearance, sniffing its way from the cloak pocket. Delilah uttered a snarling growl. The falcon stooped, plucked the shrew and swooped vertically upward. She made a tight circle and ascended, before flying out through the open transom in the Grandstage ceiling.
Mekal snorted at the bizarre occurrence.
The spectators stared at Sera with revered awe.
"Dominion over beasts," a voice in the crowd croaked out. The conjecture rippled throughout the crowd.
"The Ptino asteri," another voice resounded.
Damn! Sera turned away.
Mekal grabbed her shoulders and turned her back. "It is too late, Sera. They know. Face your citizens."
The crowd was disturbingly quiet. A Noble dropped to his knees as one fist flew to his opposite shoulder. He bowed his head. One by one the witnesses followed the Noble’s gesture until they were all dropping to their knees en masse.
Oh god! Sera gurgled. Get me out of here!
Aryan threw down his sword and spread his arms open with his palms toward Jerad, making himself vulnerable to the thrust of Jerad’s sword. "I call a halt. I unsay all charges."
Jerad stared at Aryan as his declaration took hold.
"This is finished." Jerad dropped his sword. With a clang it landed athwart along Aryan’s sword. "I accept the halt."
The Third Corridor Page 20