The Fire Eye Chosen_Sequel to The Fire Eye Refugee

by Samuel Gately

  Kay’s only working hand was gripping the bars, her knuckles white. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.” She trembled with rage.

  “No, Kay, you’re going to fucking die. You’re going to fucking die tonight, when the Gyudi decide your fate, and they look to me, and I nod, just like I did to order the death of your old man, just like the loyal dog I am.” He reached back to pick up his scepter from the table. “You have been a grave nuisance these past few days. But your role is finished.”

  Jyurik straightened his mask and rapped his scepter loudly on the wooden table. Two Atoned leaned in the doorway. “Bind her hands and bring her along,” Jyurik said. “She has a date with the Chosen Dynasty.”

  Chapter 25. Black Sash

  Kay was marched into the domed chamber where she’d first faced the Gyudi. Unable to bind her hands, her Atoned escort had settled for wrapping a rope tightly around her torso. It painfully squeezed her broken arm into her chest and left the other immobile. As before, the robed Acolytes stood on all sides, coldly watching her with stoic masks, leaving her to her fate. This house was built on lies, but it would stand long enough for them to take their swing at the Melor Dynasty, and Kay may not be around to see if it landed. The orange glow of the Fire Eye streaming from above was her only comfort at the moment, the only thing keeping her from collapsing in despair. At least her death wouldn’t be in the dark. If they didn’t blind her before they killed her, she could bask in its light for one last breath.

  The three thrones loomed over the circle Kay was led into. Jyurik perched at the base of one, swinging his legs jauntily. Kay looked out on the sea of masks. No sign of any sympathizers. At least there was one missing. Jenna Weiss was somewhere above, home. And if Kay couldn’t avenge Ewan’s murder, there was still Joah, and Abi, and Yamar, who even now may be watching her quietly take her position for judgement.

  “The messenger has returned to us,” Daemon said, leaning forward to show his interest. Olive laughed.

  “No messenger, my Lord,” Jyurik shouted loudly up to his master, “but a spy for the Melor.”

  “A wetblood spy,” Olive laughed again, “how curious.”

  Sella said, “Has she uncovered anything we would prefer hidden? Any communications with those who hold her leash?”

  “No, my Lord,” Jyurik replied to Sella.

  “And this is the one who murdered our Chosen?”

  “She is, my Lord.”

  So they’d either found the bodies in the tunnel or Yamar had been busy. If she had to die for his crimes, so be it.

  Sella looked at Daemon. “You have run the Chosen’s discipline thus far. What say you?”

  He studied Kay for a moment, then leaned back. “I tire of these bloodless affairs. Let’s have her head.”

  Sella gave her cold smile. “I concur.”

  “As do I,” Olive said with a laugh that died down as both of the others looked at her with annoyance.

  Sella turned to Kay. “What do you have to say for yourself, little mouse? Any more cryptic messages for our ears?”

  Kay could see a pair of Chosen carrying forward an executioner’s block. It appeared the Gyudi favored abbreviated trials. No surprise there. She would be beheaded. She thought of Yamar, hopefully safe somewhere far away from here. Lola, out in the crowd, and the others trying to do right even in this horrible place, harnessed to the terrible ambition of a family of madmen.

  “No,” Kay said, her eyes glued to the executioner’s block as it was thrust into place before her. “I did my best. Someone else will pick up where I fell short.” She looked up at the Gyudi Dynasty. “You will fail. And the fool will caper on your graves before an arrow catches him. That’s enough for me.”

  Olive’s shrill laugh was their only response. The Atoned continued readying for the execution. She prepared to take her knees, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Would it be Jyurik who wielded the blade? The idea made her sick to her stomach.

  “Hold!” came a loud voice from the crowd. The Acolytes’ ranks broke as one stepped forward. A masked man who stood a head above the crowd. Kay’s heart sank. He could have gotten away. What was the point of this?

  “I am,” he paused to rip off his mask and toss it into the crowd, “Yamar Advoco, Captain of the Wrang and deathsworn of the Melor Dynasty.” Yamar ignored the Atoned soldiers who swarmed around him, his eyes on Sella as he strode towards the thrones. “You speak boldly for one cowering in the shadows.”

  “Strong words from a lowly spy,” Sella replied, a smile parting her dark lips.

  “I see no lowly spy.” He pulled his badge and raised it over his head. “I am Yamar Advoco, Captain of the Wrang and deathsworn of the Melor Dynasty. And I claim champion rights for the messenger whose head you would place on the block. I ask for trial by combat.” He made a show of looking around. “You claim a return to an old Dynasty and to old ways. If you follow the old ways with any honor, you’ll grant her a trial by combat.”

  “You would champion our little mouse?” Sella pointed at Kay. “I think I would rather watch her bleed.” A glance at Daemon. “And I know my brother would. Who is she to you?”

  “What matter is that?” Yamar was now beneath the thrones, a ring of Atoned around him. He’d put himself between Kay and the Gyudi. She still had no idea what he was trying to accomplish by adding his own neck to the block. “The Palace is full of mice. I do not bother with them. I am Yamar Advoco, Captain of the Wrang and deathsworn of the Melor Dynasty.”

  “He lies,” Jyurik chimed in. “We believe they came here together.”

  Yamar leveled a look at Jyurik, then tilted his head to address the thrones. “Will it be the fool I am facing? That is your champion? The Melor so feared this nest of cowards they sent me down to test your mettle, and it wears a jester’s motley? Bring forth a sign you are to be feared so my death will not be of embarrassment.” He looked pointedly at Daemon. “Or are the histories true? Is the only rival to the cruelties of the Gyudi their cowardice?”

  Olive laughed loudly. “May I, sister?” she pleaded Sella. She reached into the ample folds of her gown and flourished a set of sharp knives, twirling them delicately over her thick fingers.

  Sella gave a slight smile before her face returned to ice. “No, dear sister, this one is mine.” She stood atop her throne and cast her cloak aside. Underneath, she wore skintight, black scale armor with intricate patterns throughout. She reached a hand behind her and drew a weapon, cunningly hidden among her throne’s decorative ironwork. It was a short staff, topped with a blade shaped like a crescent moon. A long black sash was tied at the base of the blade. “You shall have your chance to test our mettle, Yamar Advoco, Wrang Captain and Melor deathsworn. Before we begin, who are you sworn to?”

  “Enos Melor.”

  “One of the children. I had hoped for more than that.” She abruptly jumped from her perch atop the throne, the black sash on her moonblade trailing her as she descended, and landed smoothly in a crouch before Yamar. As she straightened, she said, “He will be the last to die, then, and painfully, for your insults.”

  Yamar ignored her words and turned to Jyurik, his voice cold. “My sword, fool.”

  Jyurik hesitated only a moment, Kay could imagine how he was seething under his mask, before snapping his fingers and beckoning one of his Atoned forward. The sword they’d taken from Kay was proffered to Yamar. He drew the blade without touching the scabbard, treating the Chosen as though they weren’t there. Then he squared off with Sella Gyudi, his face all calm arrogance. He hadn’t looked at Kay once since inserting himself between her and the executioner’s block.

  Kay felt like she was losing her fucking mind. What the hell was he doing? What was the point of what he’d just done? Was there a chance they’d actually go free? Even if the Gyudi subscribed to some archaic honor code, she was sure Jyurik wouldn’t. She pushed towards Yamar and was immediately seized by the Atoned at her back. She was left with no option but to watch the deathl
y struggle before her, where, win or lose, Yamar had likely surrendered his life. All to buy her a few extra minutes she could do nothing with. Her head would still wind up on the block.

  The combatants circled the space bound by the thrones on one side, the Atoned on another. The court was silent aside from the scrapes of Yamar’s boots and the soft whisper of Sella’s sandals on the stone floor. They watched each other cautiously, both holding weapons at their sides. Sella’s teeth gleamed from between her dark lips, unable to suppress an eager grin.

  Kay had known Yamar for years, and she’d never truly seen him fight with a sword. Four years ago, she’d caught glimpses of him squaring off against the Fire Creep, the devilish Winden who had found a new height of powers under the open Fire Eye. She’d seen him in tight spots since, but he rarely reached for his sword. Usually his badge did the work. She realized, in a mix of hope and sadness, that she’d again missed seeing a central part of him. She saw immediately, as he leapt into an attack, he wielded his blade like it was a limb.

  Yamar’s sword whirled into a flurry of strikes, his face perfectly blank and level behind it. He wasn’t just good. He was incredible. A marvel with the blade, operating it at blinding speed with unfaltering precision. The only problem was that Sella appeared to be just as good. Sparks flew as she met his onslaught with the crescent blade atop her staff.

  He paused, eyeing her coldly, then changed tactics. His next round of attacks were tighter, guiding his sword point towards her torso, forcing her to generate her own power rather than merely turning his aside. She did so with ease, however, holding her blade tight in front of her, sliding his thrusts off the crescent and tossing them aside, pulling them inwards, doing everything to prevent him from transitioning between attacks and gaining any momentum.

  There was another pause as Yamar reconsidered. He wasn’t breathing hard and his swordstrokes still carried the crispness of a fresh fighter, but Kay thought she detected concern in his brow. He faced a mystery that was proving difficult to resolve. After a moment’s hesitation, he went at the Sella again. This time he came in high, then shifted to a low attack, a low base. She deflected the combination and, as he aimed again at her head, used her staff to drive his sword upwards.

  Sella leaned in low, lashing out in an arc with her staff. She swept Yamar’s ankle out from under him and he crashed to the ground. He found his feet again in an instant, but she was not pressing her advantage. She was sitting back, allowing what had just happened to sink in. She could have severed his foot had she used the blade at the end of her staff. Instead, she had reached in deeper, and harmlessly swept the leg. She offered a mirthless smile. She was toying with him.

  This time she seized the initiative and launched a series of attacks. The crescent blade came at his neck, then the other end of the staff sought his legs. She rained blows at him. He parried them expertly, and they moved around the center of the crowd, the only sounds the clashes of the blades meeting.

  Yamar appeared to be holding his own, and Kay was beginning to feel there was a chance of success. He hadn’t done well on the offensive, but neither was Sella able to score. Then she expanded her repertoire. She’d held the black sash that tethered to the moonblade tight along the shaft of the staff during the early exchanges. Now she released it, and it began to rise and fall with her attacks, a flutter of blackness, weaving and dancing between them, like another line of smoke. Sella controlled it, had clearly trained with it, and used it to give her advantage. The black sash kept floating in Yamar’s face, whirling around, distracting and confusing. It behaved like a living thing, like the tongue of a black snake, teasing and licking its prey. It never got in Sella’s way, only Yamar’s, and with him forced back on the defensive, he had no opportunity to dictate her movements. She pressed him, and the sash kept blocking his vision, right where he needed it. Finally he stepped aside to clear it from his face. She was waiting for the move.

  Sella’s staff drove hard into Yamar’s knee, knocking his leg back. With his feet off his base, he lacked the strength to fight the crescent blade forcing his sword down. Sella leapt smoothly into the air, then spun the staff, cracking the Wrang hard across the chin with its butt. He fell back, dazed but not out. She whipped the staff around, the next blow landing squarely on his head. He collapsed.

  Sella stepped over Yamar and straddled his unconscious body. Kay was held back by the hands of the Atoned. As she struggled forward, her every muscle was screaming and straining as she fought their grip, watching the blade descend towards Yamar’s head. At the last moment, Sella pulled her strike.

  Kay gave a gasp of relief as Sella looked up at her siblings. “Death would be too swift a reward. A place in the new Dynasty will be held for him. At the least, he will be first in my harem. Minus that eye of course.” She prodded Yamar’s slack face with the end of her moonblade.

  She glanced at her hand, distracted by a small cut where her pinky finger met her palm, a thin line of blood. She gave a noise of annoyance. “A bath, I think, before we resume.” A group of attending Acolytes materialized, throwing a robe over her. She led them away, sparing no backwards look for Kay or the defeated Yamar.

  Olive and Daemon were leaned back with self-satisfied looks on their faces, no signs of taking charge of the court in Sella’s absence. Kay was starting to wonder if they would get back to cutting her head off when she felt Jyurik’s hot breath on her ear. “A word in private, fetch.” He pulled her back away from the thrones and started pushing her across the room. “Bring the other spy,” he called back to his Atoned.

  His chambers were just off the dome, and as they passed through the door, Jyurik threw Kay to the ground. Several Atoned were behind, carrying an unconscious Yamar between them.

  “Quickly,” Jyurik hissed at them. “Bind him to that chair. The fetch as well.”

  In short order, Kay was roughly seated, ropes still tightly tied around her. They threw the belt which held her jars and baton onto the table, followed by Yamar’s swordbelt. The Wrang was tied tightly to a thick wooden chair. His head lolled to one side. Kay could see blood in his dark hair, but his breathing was level. He was lucky to be alive after that stunt, though she gave neither of them good odds on staying that way for long.

  With a gesture, Jyurik cleared the room. He followed the Chosen to the door and locked it behind them, leaving Kay stuck in a room with two fools.

  Chapter 26. Betrayal

  Jyurik had his back to his prisoners as he pulled his mask off. He turned, his single eye lingering on Kay. “The Gyudi are easily distracted. In the excitement of the fight, they appear to have forgotten that your execution is imminent. But soon they will send word, and your blood will spill. Before that happens, we must talk.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “Not you. Him.” Jyurik tilted his head towards Yamar. “I can’t deny that you’ve been useful at times, fetch. You pointed me towards the Pathfinders as an underserved alliance. You told me about the layout of the Palace, its library. You’ve told me many things. But I never imagined you’d help me flush out a Dynasty spy, a real one, rather than some girl playing with sticks and matches in the dark. I wonder what he’ll be able to tell me.”

  “I haven’t told you anything.” Kay’s eyes were wide. “What are you talking about?”

  “You told me all of it. You told me everything I thought to ask. You see, you’ve been here before, Kay, and I don’t mean earlier today.” Jyurik gave a dark smile.

  “Crystal shroud is a fascinating drug,” he said, walking past the oddly familiar painting on the wall. He went over to a set of cabinets built into the stone walls of the chamber. He opened one and began pulling out several bottles and placing them on the table in the center of the room. “An expensive drug, certainly. And one that creates dependence shockingly fast. So fast it is one of the few designer drugs practiced in moderation by the upper class, who fear their teeth turning red and their fortunes plummeting to nothing in a matter of days. B
ut of course it has a very, shall we say, devoted market. And if one were given an unlimited supply of the drug, and an unlimited supply of people to test it on, one can learn certain things.”

  He poured clear liquid from a jar into a small wooden bowl. “What you, and what everyone, receives in advance of the Kallaha Test, is a concentrated dose on your eyes. It has the potential to kill a regular user of the drug, but if you are new to it, your body doesn’t quite know what to do with it. It endures the hallucinations, loosens its grip on your thoughts and emotions, and then, when handed a trauma it simply can no longer endure, such as the Kallaha Test, it shuts you down. The drug cycles out over a day or two, and you are left none the worse for wear.” He picked up a sharp knife and stirred the liquid within the bowl. As he looked at Kay, he licked the blade clean, then dropped it on the table.

  “What I have learned, however, is that there is an interesting side effect as your body reacts to the high dosage.” Jyurik withdrew a paintbrush from a hidden pocket and dipped it into the bowl. He approached Yamar, who remained slumped in the chair. “There’s a sort of window in which your body is capable of animation but your mind is quite…pliable.” He leaned over Yamar and pulled one eyelid back, then quickly swiped the brush across the whites of his exposed eye. He repeated it for the other, then smiled at Kay. “We’ll wake him in a moment.”

  He walked to the table. “I’ve brought many an Atoned back to these chambers to learn their most closely held secrets during this window. And it was in this window, fetch, that I brought you here. I roused you. I asked you everything I wanted. And you sat there and told me. There was only one thing you held back, and that was how you moved the smoke during your Kallaha Test. Which makes me wonder, do you even know?” He looked at her curiously for a moment, then shrugged. “When I was finished with you, I had my men dump you in the tunnel. And you don’t remember any of this.”