Letting out a great sigh, Nara looked around and saw many eyes and a few knowing smiles. Amid the sympathetic chuckles of amused men, the conversations in the tent slowly started again. Nara then saw Aleksi silently watching him from several paces away.
Catching Aleksi’s eye, Nara spoke. “Well, son, I hope you enjoyed that more than I did. Some call me a performer, yet that’s not exactly the kind of entertainment I’m known for.”
“One man’s sorrow is another man’s glory,” Aleksi said, approaching Nara. “Is that not the way of the arena?”
“Well said, son. Sadly, it is.” Nara paused, studying Aleksi’s face. “I do not know you, but your eyes are green and true. From where on our great Northern Continent do you hail?”
“I have the eyes of the North, sir, nothing more.”
“I bet not, son, for unless you are a fool and know not who I am, you must have the courage of a Northern heart to speak to the Lionman. Especially on the tail of such an awkward incident.”
“I can guess who you are,” Aleksi answered, “but more importantly, I know where you are from. Yet I beg to wonder why you are axeless.” Aleksi paused. “Should I assume, then, lion of Iksir, that you mix your paints alone?”
A frown spread across Nara’s face and he answered curtly. “For one not from the Northern Continent, you seem to know much of her customs.”
“Just because I do not live on her soil does not mean I do not know of her people.”
“Well, son, some questions are best left unasked.” Nara gestured to the mass of humanity outside the tent and his demeanor changed. “But what of you, my boy? Here to perform for the crowd and claim the fabled mantle of victory?”
“I do not perform for show.”
“Ah, not one for glory,” Nara said, rubbing his massive hands together. “You’re in it for the money, then. You’ve come to test your luck for the prize of pearls and make your fortune, I take it?”
“I have been taught that there is no luck on the battlefield, sir. Only choice and fate.” Aleksi paused, looking up at the giant of a man that was Nara Simha. “And apparently, mine has brought me here to you.”
Before Nara could say any more, Aleksi walked away with his left hand lightly resting on the hilt of his blade. Leaving the covering of the tent, Aleksi looked skyward and wondered what Nataraja would think of him participating in an arena like this. To fight for money . . . There is no greater shame for a warrior.
A feeling of dishonor flooded through the youth as he made his way into the crowd. Continuing to stare upward, he saw that both moons, Rahu and Ketu, were high in the sky. Their blue light was drowned out by the Eastern Zenith, but still they rested graciously in the heavens—stoic and enduring.
I have little choice. Please, Arkai, grant me forgiveness.
CHAPTER VIII
The eastern side of Mindra’s Square was filled with eager people. The only open space was along the western edges of the market, which abutted the city’s main gate and high wall. The imposing doors had been closed for some time in ritual preparation for the grand entrance of the military. Traditionally, the march had been made up of Adhira’s soldiers only, signifying the might of Devdan’s former capital of Mindra’s Haven. However, there were whispers in the crowd that a legion from each Eastern nation waited outside the barred doors.
Cutting through the cacophony below, a regal blast of fifty horns suddenly sounded from atop Mindra’s Temple. All stopped what they were doing and looked up to the great balcony on the eastern edge of the square. From across the pavilion another blast rang out. This time, the noise came from atop the high outer walls. Again, the crowd turned. All eyes were now looking westward to the main gate that led to the harbor. Next came the metallic moan of heavy chains, followed by the groaning rasp of metal hinges as the mammoth gate slowly opened inward.
With the light of the Zenith brightly shining before him, General Beck Al’Beth led fifteen legions of soldiers—totaling 1,875 men and women—into Mindra’s Square. The crowd cheered in a deafening roar, welcoming their beloved national heroes into the festival grounds. Beck wore full-body plate armor, each steely silver plate edged with hammered gilt leaf. His breastplate had high collar guards and the golden crest of the High Arkai Mindra embossed upon its center. It shone bright amber as it reflected the Zenith’s glare. Beck’s hands and arms were adorned with intricately crafted gauntlets and his lower body was armored with full leg plates. An elegant purple cape fringed with gold flowed behind him as he marched. Despite the formal dress, Beck’s head was bare. He held his ornate helm tight under his right arm, and his left hand rested on the pommel of his sheathed blade.
Beck and his procession of soldiers ceremoniously marched through the square. The convoy was made of three rectangular formations of warriors. Six hundred twenty-five of each nation’s finest men and women marched beside their feudal neighbors. In addition, renowned Pa’laer and Farden generals flanked Beck on either side. These seasoned leaders also had their helms removed and squinted against the Zenith’s rays.
Directly behind their generals marched each legion’s standard-bearer. Each nation’s emblem flew high on its bearer’s pole, rippling proudly in the warm ocean breeze. The Rune of High Arkai Mindra was featured at the center of each ensign, yet beyond that, the flags were as different as the lands they represented. All in the East worshipped Mindra, but in the Modern Age, Pa’laer and Farden had their own variant of the Eastern Arkai’s Runic standard. In addition, both neighboring nations had little love for Adhira’s banner, for it was Devdan’s ancestral flag, reminding all of the historic claim of Mindra’s Haven to political supremacy and divine right.
Flying to Beck’s left, the flag of the Pa’laer of the Eastnorth was blood red. It was embossed with yellow plumes and a golden stitching that shone in the light of the Zenith. Scrolled in ancient Runic text surrounding a much larger Rune of Mindra was an account of their nation’s history in the Modern Age, including the lineage of their ruling houses. The horse lord’s history showed many a battle won over their neighbors, and as the Pa’laer warriors marched, the people of Mindra’s Haven looked up at the banner keenly. Many likely remembered friends, parents, or even grandparents who had fallen in defeat to the notoriously vicious war riders of the Eastnorth.
To Beck’s right, the Eastsouthern forest nation of Farden had a banner of green, instead of red, with a similar yellow stitching. Their flag also had an account of their nation’s history and lineage. Standing out among the domains listed, however, was a Rune all knew and many feared. Patterned in silver stitching instead of gold was the House Rune of the fallen Akasha people. After their crash on the face of Terra by the hands of the Dark Ones so many long ages ago, their sacred descendants chose to live on what remained of their organic starfaring tree ship, Kwa’thari. The giant tree now rested in the impact crater it had made upon its hard fall to land. It was said that much of the large tree was submerged in a great lake, for the ship had, upon impact, struck an underground reservoir. After the Kwa’thari took root in the fertile soil, the Akasha had then stayed hidden in the mountainous and secluded forests of the Eastsouth for many ages. Although occult and strange, that one branch of the great Akasha had made Terra their home, mingling with the people of the Eastsouth in trade, friendship, and, when necessary, military allegiance.
Finest of all and directly at Beck’s back was Adhira’s great standard banner. It was larger than the other two nations’ flags, and its material was made of a Runicly gilded fabric sewn with molten gold stitching which shone of its own accord. When the crowds saw the great banner, it was understandable why the other nations of the East felt inferior to Mindra’s Haven. Legend told that this flag was given as an honorific gift by Mindra himself to an ancient High Priest of the Eastern Order of the Arkai, a man notorious for his valor in combat against the Dark Ones. The banner had then been passed down through the generations of Adhira’s mortal protectors ever since, inspiring her people with faith in the Guardi
ans’ might and virtuous promise. It was said that any army which marched with this flag at its head would never fall in defeat, for it had the divine protection and power of the Eastern Zenith itself. This had yet to be proven wrong.
The rays above shone off Beck’s polished steel plate with blinding intensity as the progression moved forward through the square. The sound of 1,875 pairs of boot heels rang out through the large plaza, inspiring awe and admiration. The generals, along with their respective five legions, were dressed in the soldiers’ arms of their nation.
Behind Beck, the legions of men and women belonging to Adhira were dressed in less-ornate plate mail and equipped with long blades strapped to their belts. To Beck’s left, the Pa’laer warriors of the Eastnorth were dressed in tan leather armor banded together by sturdy belts and buckles. Both male and female heads were bare, but their necks were protected by thick leather gorgets. While reinforced leather was not nearly as strong as steel plate or chain, it allowed the Pa’laer warriors to ride their warhorses with the utmost ease and lethal speed. Without their horses today, the soldiers marched in line with their short bows strapped to their backs and their wickedly curved swords secured at their hips.
To Beck’s right marched the Farden soldiers of the Eastsouth. Half of the soldiers were men armed with long axes and carrying shields on their backs. The men were dressed in green tunics cinched over chain mail that covered their entire bodies. The other half were women dressed in thin green and brown leathers and armed with a belt of sheathed daggers. Known for keeping to themselves and their thick woodlands, the people of Farden fought most battles in the seclusion of tree and canopy. The men would fight on the forest floors with their axes while the lightly armored women would wait, camouflaged, in the canopy above. Once an enemy was fully engaged with the heavily armored men in mail, their swift, acrobatic wives and sisters would swoop down upon their prey, wreaking havoc before retreating again to the cover of leaf and branch above.
As the column of soldiers marched through the center path of the square, Beck looked up to the great shimmering statue of Mindra and smiled. Although Beck had been given several hours’ notice of his lord’s having reached a decision with the two other nations’ leaders, his chest still felt giddy from their proclamation. And while the announcement had not yet been made public, Beck could see that even just this formal show of military unity was doing much to inspire the onlooking citizens.
Mehail Bander had told Beck, “The people must see the military force of each Eastern nation bending knee as one, showing fealty to a new, united rule. We must inspire harmony through unity. Therefore, the commendation ceremony will pay homage to our new alliance, proclaiming true peace throughout all of Devdan.”
Mehail was right. United like this we can stand against Asura. Beck looked up at the giant statue of their patron Arkai, and for the first time in many long years, he felt joy in his heart. I wish I could see the grin on Domadred’s face.
Across the square and close to the temple, Domadred stood with a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Can it be true?” Brayden said, looking out across the crowd. “They march as one? This can only mean one thing!”
“Indeed,” Domadred answered, smiling wide. “Beck Al’Beth and his men will sail with us when we return to the Resistance.”
Behind them, Kefta weaved through the crowd. After making his way to the pair, the young man spoke. “Well, I’m sure you’re happy, Captain.”
“The Guardians have smiled upon us and our cause.” Domadred then paused, giving Kefta a sideways glance. “What kept you? You didn’t get into any trouble, did you?”
Kefta gave an innocent smile. “No, Captain, just opening some old wounds. If we have to stay in Mindra’s Haven, I plan on winning this tournament.”
“Don’t worry, you will place well. Although if I was a betting man, which I am, I still would put my pearls on the Lionman as this year’s champion.”
“In light of your recent success with Beck,” Kefta said with a wry smile, “care to make a wager?”
Before Domadred could answer, Brayden spoke with an incredulous tone. “Kefta, you seriously think you can beat Nara Simha?”
“When you have something greater than two tiny copper nuggets in that little-boy purse of yours,” Kefta said, as Brayden’s face turned red, “you can start making wagers as to who will win. Until then, leave it to the men to talk of their speculations.”
“Why should I bet more?” Domadred answered. “I’m already several stacks deep on you, and those are black pearls I plan to make back with very high interest when you receive your winnings.”
“Yes, yes,” Kefta said, waving his hand. “There is no doubt we will make good earnings in the semifinals. I’m talking about a side bet.”
“I’m listening.”
“Not only do I make it to the final round of four,” Kefta said, “but that hooded boy we met at the arena tent, Astya, does not make it past his first heat with me.”
“And your wager?”
“Ten more stacks. And I want five-to-one odds.”
“Done,” Domadred said with a smile. “In addition, when I win, you take Brayden’s cleaning chores for a month.”
“Why?” Kefta asked, confused.
“Because you’re a rude ass.”
Aleksi pushed his way to the front of the crowd as people cheered for the soldiers nearing the platform. Never in his sixteen years living at the Academy had he seen people so expectant and eager.
The youth watched Beck and his marching procession make their way up the ramp onto the platform directly in front of the temple’s high balcony. The group halted when all were atop the wide stage, more than a man’s height off the ground. Maintaining rank and file, the warriors then fell into a stationary formation in wait. As his men stood at attention, Beck turned to face them, and out of the corner of his eye he caught Brin Al’Beth, his son and a most talented young soldier, glancing aside.
Beck flicked a gauntleted finger across his steel thigh plate and it rang out with a pure metallic clang. When Brin’s eyes were slow to snap front and center, Beck saw why—the graceful form of a dark-skinned South-Western woman from Sihtu standing at the edge of the crowd with her elegant arms folded over her cleavage. Scantily clad in tight leather armor that revealed more than it protected, she would be able to turn any young man’s head and captivate his attention.
Beck gave Adler a nod and the veteran leaned close into Brin and whispered fiercely, “What is it, boy? Do you think the sweat that drips off her breasts would taste sweet? Or is it the olive skin and jet-black hair? Perhaps you want to trace her tattoos to their source?” Brin swallowed hard as Adler continued. “Or maybe it’s the bullwhip she uses. Would that keep you in line, do you think?”
Brin’s face was bright red as Beck approached. Beck, too, had once been young. He had also been distracted, but not today. “Son, you are damn good with that sword, but this is a momentous occasion and I cannot afford the minds of my men being any less sharp than their blades. Keep focused and act a man.”
Brin nodded and Beck looked at the two opposing generals on either side of the large platform. He had fought wars against these men and had killed and lost many a soldier in the process. Gazing back at the faces of his warriors in formation, Beck raised his voice and addressed them all.
“Children of Mindra, today we represent our country as the foundation of a unified continent. Let us show the people why it is in us they put their faith and adoration!”
In response, his five noble legions of 625 soldiers pounded their gauntleted fists on their breastplates twice before letting out a guttural roar which echoed throughout the square. To their left and right, many a Pa’laer and Farden face turned to them, remembrance of the battle cry shimmering in their eyes.
Suddenly, there came the call of trumpets from the temple high above, and all stood in stillness. For a moment there was complete silence throughout Mindra’s Square. Beck then heard the rush of a fire being ign
ited on the pavilion high above. The orange flame of the temple’s bastion now burned a raging cobalt blue. In one smooth motion, all fifteen legions dropped to their knees with a metallic clatter. A second later, in a rippling wave, the massive crowd behind them did the same. Lowered down in preparation to give honor to a newly unified realm, all looked to the balcony, waiting.
The moment stretched on as Beck watched the azure plume of smoke above the temple bastion rise high into the sky like a lazy wisp. The Zenith shone hot overhead and several drops of perspiration had developed on Beck’s forehead. Despite this, he remained stoic and unmoving. Far off in the distance, a gentle breeze blew off the ocean. It softly caressed Beck’s face in the eager stillness.
Finally, Mehail Bander stepped out onto the balcony. He was followed by Arva Vatana and Jaiden Zeer. Instantly, a deafening roar rose from the crowd. Beck glanced around the multitude and saw elation on their faces. He let the feeling wash over him.
He’s done it. Devdan is whole once again.
Mehail Bander looked down at the crowd below. The sea of people stretched out to the end of the square and their jubilant chorus rang in his ears. They were illuminated in the light of the Zenith and their expectant eyes were locked on him through its glare. The councilor breathed in slowly, feeling both Arva Vatana and Jaiden Zeer several steps behind him. Mehail knew they were watching him closely. The two leaders had not been easy to satisfy, but peace was worth the price.
Mehail smiled and raised his arms. The cheers were silenced. “My friends and fellow citizens, I speak to you at the height of a most auspicious day.” Mehail’s voice was loud and booming, projected out into the square by the Runic power of Mindra’s Temple. “We have all felt the drains of these last years. Many across the sea foster rage in their hearts, and even within our great walls we taste fear with every bite of bread. Yet, while our world approaches an uncertain time and faces the prospect of global war, I tell you now, whatever trials we face from this day forth, we of the East will face them together. For we, the people of Terra’s great Eastern Continent of Devdan, are now once again united!”
Rune of the Apprentice (The Rune Chronicles) Page 13
