by R. M Garino
Thomlin jostled against Kolsch. “Hey, stop pushing!” Thomlin said, although it was obvious no one had done so. The Mala’kar was knocked away from Arielle.
Angus took advantage of the situation, and was moving before Arielle registered the fact. He placed one foot on the lip and vaulted into the Pit, only to be stopped mid-air by Kolsch’s magic.
What are you doing? Arielle sent, reaching out as if to catch him. She could feel his tension, the wrath that had been building inside him. There were no words in his response, just an intense, desperate need to get to the bottom of the Pit. There was a shrulk down there, and it was about to tear into someone he cared about. Someone who could not properly defend herself. Memories of Melinah flashed between them.
“Not you, Kal’Parev,” Kolsch said, pushing Thomlin out of his way as he moved around the ledge to see Angus’ face. “Not today. Today, you get what’s coming to you, ya little bastard. You can hang there and watch. Got yourself a good seat though, didn’t you? Nice, line of sight?”
Arielle felt Angus calm himself as he hung in the air, his thoughts going still as he separated his mind. His emotions bled away. A moment later, Angus’ sin’del drew back, pulling away from where Kolsch’s touched him, as if trying to wiggle free. Kolsch lunged for him, feeding more energy into the movement. His face lit with surprise as his energy was funneled into a tight ball. The construct created from the compression of his life force pulled Kolsch forward, only to be shoved back, exploding on impact. The attack threw Kolsch off his feet, his arms pinwheeling through the air, taking Ba’ril and Ossian to the ground with him. The next moment Angus was falling into the Pit. Arielle pushed closer to get a better view as he landed. He grabbed Ti’vol and hauled her to her feet, pushing her into the safety of his shadow.
“Stay behind me,” he said, his words low, but echoing off the granite walls. The shrulk had already exited the dark tunnel at the far end and was scenting the air. “Guard my back. Make sure it doesn’t get behind us. Just like we showed you.”
“Like you showed me,” Ti’vol said. She clutched her limp left arm to her side, and she crouched, as if to make herself as small as possible. Three more coughing calls were spat out, and the shrulk was running. Arielle gripped the wall, her every nerve straining outward toward him. Something was wrong with the scene below her, but she could not identify what it was. Angus’ positioning was good. His balance correct. He stood in the waiting stance.
Arielle realized what was wrong.
“Where are their weapons?” she said, turning from the scene below to Kolsch, who was disentangling himself from Ba’ril and Ossian. Arielle moved closer to him. “Where are their weapons?”
“This bunch of pumped-up braggarts don’t deserve weapons,” Kolsch said as he stood. “Besides, it would complicate things giving the stillborn a blade. She might hurt herself before the shrulk did!”
Kolsch shoved her aside and pressed his fists against the ledge.
“Nice trick, Kal’Parev,” Kolsch shouted down as he tottered around the lip. “Anticipatory reduction, was it? Advanced skill that. Nicely played. But now that you’re down there, I guess we’ll have to add a beastie or two of your own. We have to test those skills of yours. Here beastie, beastie.”
Another set of coughing calls came from the far end. Angus didn’t seem to notice. He was focused on the advancing first shrulk, and didn’t let his attention wander.
“Kolsch,” Arielle said, hesitant to take her attention from the scene below, “They need weapons!”
Kolsch responded with an exaggerated flick of his hand, as if shooing a fly.
“You’ve thrown the grandson of the Matriarch into an uncalibrated Pit, and without even a weapon to defend himself! What do you think—”
“What do you think I’ll do if you don’t shut the feck up? And I mean right this minute, sweet cheeks,” Kolsch said, spearing her with a frightful grimace.
Arielle watched as Angus pulled his sin’del in tight against him, willing it to condense. She felt the change in him as the Satyagarha took hold. He might not have a weapon, she realized with a flush of pride, but he did not need one. He was the weapon.
The shrulk rushed at Angus, with Ti’vol crouched behind him. It came in low, perhaps hoping to use Angus’ height against him. Angus pivoted to the right, letting the snapping jaws pass by him. Ti’vol screamed as the beast adjusted its trajectory, its jaws snapping shut again and again mere inches from her face. Angus grabbed the mass of bluish-black hair, and yanked it back. He smashed his right fist into the creature’s throat, grabbed it by the bottom of its jaw, and twisted its head around. A loud pop reached the spectators on the walkway as its neck snapped. Dropping the dead shrulk to the ground, Angus faced the two new shrulks that had entered.
“Oh, feck it all,” Darien said, and vaulted over the side. Kolsch was too intent on the action below him to notice, until it was too late to subvert the act. Darien landed in a crouch and sprang headlong into the fray. He ran to Angus and stood beside him, his shield out, and his sword drawn.
“Get her out, Kal’Parev,” Darien said. “I’ll hold them off.”
“No!” Kolsch roared. “That’s not the way this works. More people in the Pit means more shrulks, now doesn’t it?”
More coughing calls came from the entrance.
“These will split to either side,” Angus said. “If we run, we die. Our only chance is to stand, boots in the blood.”
Kolsch pointed at Arielle, his finger wavering by the slightest degree. “Twelfth, return to your barracks this instant. That’s an order.”
Arielle could not believe what she was hearing. Angus and Ti’vol were unarmed in the Pit, Darien was with them, and she was being ordered to bed.
She was over the ledge before she’d even considered the order.
As her boots hit the floor, she was aware of several other pairs striking seconds behind her. She had her shield up in front of her, and her sword out.
“Third!” Thomlin called out from behind her. “Defensive perimeter!”
“Twelfth!” Gwen snapped a half second later. “Share your arms! Fill out the line!”
They fell out as instructed, weapons passing from the Twelfth to the Third. Two shrulks came within striking distance as they did so, well before the graduates were in position to defend. Darien put his shield in the path of the one on the left, and skewered it with his sword. Angus ducked under the one on the right as it leapt into the air, grabbed it by the tail, spun it up and around to change its momentum, and slammed it into the ground with a sickening wet thud. Ti’vol stood in the line with them, a short sword clutched in her fist, while her other hung useless at her side.
The next set were upon them, but Arielle was ready. There was no time for panic or to question what she was doing. Shield up, she caught the strike of talon against the wood. Shifting the barrier to the side, she lunged, burying the tip of her blade in the beast’s chest. Three more shrulks hit the ground, gaping wounds spilling their blood and viscera across the floor. More than a dozen shrulks were advancing from the entrance, and voices were shouting above them.
More boots hit the floor. Lots, and lots of boots, she noted.
“Face one, face all!” roared the newcomers as they formed a new line. Arielle took a step back, stunned by the turn of events. Elc’atar and Pledges stood in the front line, facing the dark opening of the entrance. Some were fully armed. Others appeared to have just woken from a nap and were half clothed and unarmed. All of them were Kal’Parev, and they waited with a grim determination. Both the Third and Twelfth pushed onward until they too stood interspersed among them. “Oohraah!” they called out in one voice as their weapons came down and they fell into the waiting stance. The shrulks slammed into them. Swords flicked out. Arrows flew from the rim above. Axes rose bloodied and dripping. Another wave crashed against the line, and another, and another after that.
And then there was silence.
The gathered warriors called
out a chorus of “Huzzah!” to show that they were still alive. The Twelfth had joined in by the second round.
Nothing rushed against the line, and the entrance remained dark.
“Get your sorry selves out of my Pit!” Trenton’s voice barked from far above. “Shows over! Get out! Now!”
The warriors relaxed, and slapped each other’s shoulders. Both squads were included in the congratulatory round, and laughter broke out among the ranks as they headed for the rope ladders hanging from above.
“You have courage,” an Elc’atar was saying to Darien as they walked to the exit. His arm was around Darien’s shoulder, hugging him like a brother. “And honor. That was a great thing you did, jumping in here like that. That’s the mark of a Kal’Parev, sure and it is. Try for the guard, boy; we have a place for one with your heart.”
Someone touched the side of Ti’vol’s neck, and with a rush of air, Ti’vol was gone.
“She’s in Bicca’s care,” the Blade said to Demona when she protested, “such as it is. You did well, little one. You all did well. Fight one, fight all indeed. Finlay will be pleased when he hears of this.”
Angus had remained behind, Arielle noted. He faced the darkened entrance, the Satyagraha making his sin’del shimmer against the dark walls, thick black blood dripping from his fists onto the floor.
It’s done, she sent as she laid a cautious touch on his arm. They’re gone.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
A Matter for Mala’kar
Hammer did not like being angry. It clouded the bright light of judgment and drowned the soothing tones of reason. His dormant wrath, under control since the long ago days when he’d walked the Sur, now surged inside him. He wanted to hit, to bite, to smash. He did none of these, but the desire had awoken within him, pulsing and incessant.
“Let go,” Hammer said, surprised at how reasonable his voice sounded. “You’re drunk.”
“Piss off!” Kolsch said. He gripped the energy of the breach, forcing it to swell and emit more beasts. Hammer had grabbed ahold of it, trying to force it from the grip of the Master of the Ledge, but to no avail. They were held in a stalemate on either side of the Pit, neither gaining ground.
“The graduates are mine to train,” Hammer said. He inched around, closing the distance between them. “You have the Ledge. I have the grounds. You will release. That is an order!”
“No!” Kolsch said. “I’m a Master in residence at the fecking Gates. I can do whatever I bloody well like with these scrubs. And don’t presume to order me, you filthy Kal’Parev.”
Blades had been gathering ahead of Hammer’s arrival. More were now entering the canyon. A fair number belonged to House Kal’Parev, but many also to Mer’Chien, Kolsch’s House. Hammer knew he had precious little time to stop things getting out of control. There was no telling how wide Kolsch was willing to open the captive breach. If it stayed open too long, it would draw the wrong attention from the Sur, and they would have a major infestation to contend with. There were two squads down there, the Third and the Twelfth. That in itself was not surprising. The order to distribute arms was. That sounded like little miss Fel’Mekrin herself. Hammer would’ve anticipated such an order coming from Arielle.
Kal’Parev and Mer’Chien were weighing each other, some fingering their weapons as they did.
Hammer felt the power pulse along the line Kolsch was holding.
“Seems only fitting, doesn’t it?” Kolsch said. “So many in the Pit, and not enough shrulks. What say we open it all the way?”
“Kal’Parev!” Hammer shouted. “Into the fray! Fight one, fight all!”
The soldiers of his House did not hesitate. “Fight one, fight all!” they bellowed as they vaulted in.
The familiar chorus from the members of his House indicated that they stood ready. He stood a little taller.
“Bad move,” Kolsch said. He motioned to the gathered members of his House. Those who had stayed slid their weapons free, and advanced a step, their movements halting and unsure. “What the seven hells is wrong with you? Remove him!”
“Belay that order!” Trenton’s voice boomed through the canyon. “Weapons on the ground. Mer’Chien, return to your barracks. Now!”
A gathering of Fel’Mekrin and Le’Manon Elc’atar formed rank behind the Master of the Gates, cordoning off the exit. All were armed and armored, and held their weapons at the ready, giving menace to Trenton’s command.
“You are all confined to quarters until further notice,” Trenton said. The creak of bows behind him encouraged cooperation. The peal of metal weapons striking the stone ground echoed through the small box canyon, and the members of House Mer’Chien filed out.
Trenton directed his attention at Kolsch, as did the archers behind him. “Release it,” he said. “I do not ask twice.”
Trenton’s sin’del swelled, and Hammer matched his action, drawing his fill from the earth.
Kolsch dimmed, releasing his hold on the breach. “Whatever,” he said with a shrug. “In my day we wouldn’t coddle a stillborn. But it’s your Gate after all, isn’t it?”
Kolsch ran his tongue around the inside of his lips, then walked toward the exit,
“My quarters,” Trenton said as the Master of the Ledge passed him. “Immediately.”
Kolsch did not respond, but shouldered his way through the guards.
“Fine bloody mess this is,” Trenton said as he walked to the edge of the Pit. “What the seven hells was he doing drinking on duty?”
“No idea. This isn’t like him. He’s a dick, but he’s not irresponsible.” Hammer went to stand beside him. “Could have been worse, though. A whole lot of people could’ve been killed today.”
“The day’s still young,” Trenton said, surveying the scene. “Get your sorry selves out of my Pit! Show’s over! Get out! Now!”
The Master of the Gates strode from the canyon.
“Attend me within the hour, Hammer,” he said. “See to the squads, first. Find Theta and bring her with you. We have a matter of discipline to deal with.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Pride
The incident with Kolsch was all anyone talked about for weeks. The relationships between Mer’Chien and the other Houses were strained, although there was a standing order that any altercation would be dealt with severely. The peace held as spring descended, but it was a frayed armistice that everyone expected to snap at any moment. Rumor had it that a good portion of Mer’Chien were serving penance, and that Kolsch was formally rebuked. He had been absent from the Gates since the incident, and many hinted that he had been sent to the Roots in Reven Marthal where only the worst criminals were housed.
House Fel’Mekrin treated Arielle and the Twelfth with a detached indifference, making their displeasure with her choice and their actions known. House Kal’Parev, however, welcomed them with a raucous enthusiasm. Arielle had anticipated her training sessions with Hammer, almost as much as her sessions with Trenton. At first, they were awkward, formal affairs, with Hammer barking instructions. But, since the incident at the Pit, Hammer had let some of his reserve slip away and grinned more often than not, especially at her progress.
He stood, shaking his bald, tattooed head, with his thumbs hooked behind the wide buckle of his belt, as she completed the most complicated magical exercise of her entire life. It involved harnessing the energies of the rock. With the energy, she was expected to shape and mold a section into a domed workspace. Hammer showed her how it was done, explaining his movements and intentions. Arielle included a chimney and windows, as well as a small stone porch.
“What happened to Kolsch?” Arielle said, hoping that Hammer’s good mood would let something slip.
He scowled in way of reply. “None of your concern.” His tone told her not to push the matter.
“We were all impressed with you and the Twelfth,” he said after a moment. He would not discuss the discipline of a Mala’kar, but he would discuss the event that had led to it. “House Ka
l’Parev, I mean. What you all did, jumping in like that to lend aid. We would not have expected it of Fel’Mekrin. No disrespect meant.”
“None taken, Master,” Arielle said. “I am Rhen’val, not Fel’Mekrin.”
“Seems a subtle difference,” he said. “But then again, I am neither.”
“My grandfather told me that I must be of all Houses, but also of none,” Arielle said, hoping to clarify the matter. “Tradition put me with my squad, and they have become my closest friends. But I do not consider myself a part of that House.”
“Good. See that you remember that distinction,” he said. “It seems to be a good influence on the rest of them.”
“They act as they see fit, not as I tell them.”
“Incorrect,” Hammer said. He sat down on one of the few stools available in the improvised workroom. “You lead by example. Consider this a lesson in command protocols; there are two kinds of authority: positional and personal. Some people rely on positional authority. They expect their directives to be followed because of the rank they hold. Those under them will comply, but only to the letter of what was said. All they have backing them up is the institution of their position. Personal authority, however, is different. This is the type you have. Those placed under you will follow an order because you asked them to do it, and they will go above and beyond what is expected just to please you. Your peers follow your lead, even though they follow Gwen’s commands.”
“We try to please Gwen too,” Arielle said.
“Because she also leads with personal authority. I would wager that she does not have to pull rank as leader very often.”
Arielle chuckled, perhaps, she reflected, with too much vigor.
“But she does pull rank,” Hammer said. “Even if it’s only every now and again. The squad, even the squad leader, follows your example. This is the influence you have. I want you to be aware of it, because I want you to use this ability with forethought and purpose.”
