For a moment, the scales tipped and despair and fear threatened to overtake her. Why was she the one to stand here, to face the wrath of one Dynasty in defense of another? Neither had treated her well. Neither would treat her people well in the future. Why was this her burden? Perhaps Jyurik had the right idea, to clear the decks and begin again.
The wind tore at her cloak as her legs, feeling like they belonged to someone else, carried her forward. Through the despair, a single thread of memory trickled to her. Jenna and her sister Mina’s arms wrapped around Kay. The three of them, together and safe. Any hope of finding that safety again would be erased from Celest if the Gyudi won. Kay would need to find firm footing for this fight. That memory may help.
Her enemies were waiting expectantly, watching Kay’s approach with that same mix of scorn and amusement. Sella with her cold beauty, a twist to her darkened lips. Daemon’s sour look staining his chiseled features. And Olive, face puffy and cruel, a ready laugh in her darting eyes.
The Gyudi were ranged out from the center of the track. It looked as though it may be as simple as shoving them backwards off of it. But they would be ready for her. Kay could try it, and she would be the one suddenly fighting for purchase as she toppled off the track, arms pinwheeling as she reached for something to stop her fall. A long time plummeting before she hit the smoke. Even longer in the black until the unseen ground rose up to greet her with murderous force. And if she went over, Joah would be soon to follow.
“Little mouse,” Sella said, words carrying over and across the high winds, “what interesting places you turn up.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Kay said, stopping several feet before the trio, her voice calm despite her fear. “I had to put out a fire over at the Palace.”
A brief look of consternation crossed Sella’s face, then it was back to its icy norm. “I don’t believe you.”
“Does that matter? The Palace stands.” Kay gestured towards the building.
“Perhaps for tonight. There will be other opportunities.” Sella glanced meaningfully at her siblings.
“Jyurik betrayed you,” Kay said. “He left Atoned to set fire to the tower as well as the Palace.”
“I had wondered where he was. If that is true, the fool will be punished. He forgets his place.” She said it as if it was of no consequence either way.
“Punished by who? You’ve lost your Atoned, your cult is a broken shell of itself, drugged out on the floors below. You needed me to save them. You have the last of your allies chained to the rooftop back there. You lead nothing.”
“You think I care for allies? For the creatures that serve us? I assure you, I do not. I have killed hundreds, and I will kill thousands more. Every time their eyes stray from where they belong. On the ground. At my feet. We have lost nothing. The Gyudi persevere, little mouse. It is what we do. We are the Chosen. Others have tried to stamp us out before, they will try again.”
Daemon spoke. “The Melor cannot simply put this behind them. Their domain fell to blackness on the very eve they are meant to be showered in honor by the heavens. How many more fires can be started tomorrow? How many more deaths will it take before the people of Celest turn on their masters, the ones who were sitting idly by as darkness descended? It is a question which will grow in the minds of those below. This is the seed of rebellion, and a deeply planted seed at that. We may have indulged our fantasies of a swift resolution, but make no mistake, little mouse, the Melor will topple. The value of the children we hold will become more clear in the future. The noble class will be forced to choose between the Melor and the Gyudi. And we hold a large slice of the next generation of Celest’s noble families. We hold their children. Children to serve as hostages. Children to serve as the foundation of a new administration.”
“You won’t be holding anything after I send you off this balcony.”
Sella laughed, Olive joining her a moment later. “You? You are a bigger fool than Jyurik. You were brought to us on bended knee, face covered in paint, humbled and broken. You are a clown, a filthy, wetblood clown. It is a disgrace to us we share this balcony with you on such a memorable night.”
“We won’t be sharing it long.”
“No, that much is true. We should have killed you below. That would be a more fitting place for you to die. With the other trash, your dirty blood deep below the ground. Not up here where you gaze at the Fire Eye with impunity.” She looked at her siblings again. “Why didn’t we kill her? Oh, right, the Melor sent their mighty champion to fight for our little mouse’s honor. How did he fare?” Sella was holding her staff, complete with moon blade and trailing sash. The weapon she had used to best Yamar with ease. She gave it a practiced twirl. “Not particularly well, as I recall. And then he crawled away to hide in the tunnels with the mouse. What shame he must have felt, his only companion in the darkness a wetblood.” A glance at Olive. “He was rather fair, though, wasn’t he?” To Kay, she said, “Tell me, mouse, does he live? Perhaps there is yet time to add him to my harem.”
“He’s mine.”
This was met with abrupt laughter, even Daemon joining in. Sella said, “You care for him? This is simply too delicious. A wetblood spy fancies a Dynasty deathsworn. As if Celest doesn’t have enough to laugh at.”
“He’s mine,” Kay repeated, her hand unconsciously sliding over Yamar’s Wrang badge, tucked into her belt. “I carry him with me. His heart is mine.”
“I think,” Sella said, her weapon moving into a position of readiness, “you carry fanciful tales in your head, little mouse. You are trash, and you and your trash friend,” she pointed her staff at Joah, “will soon no longer be mice. You will be birds, trying to learn to fly before your bodies break on the ground below. Far, far below.”
Daemon had drawn a sword, a curved, wide blade. Olive, with a titter, summoned two fat knives, bent until they were almost hooked, from the folds of her dress and began twirling them. Sella had the staff, and she shrugged off her cloak, revealing the black scale armor she’d worn when she defeated Yamar. She let the wind seize the cloak, tossing it off the balcony into the sky.
Kay remembered the glance that Sella had shot Olive as Yamar had called them to the ring. Olive had wanted the task of facing the Melor champion. The women were the better of the fighters here. “Joah,” Kay said quietly, “you’re on Daemon. Keep him away from us.”
He spoke quietly so the Gyudi wouldn’t hear him over the wind. “You’re taking two with a broken arm?” Sella had begun spinning her weapon, setting the black sash to twirl and dance in the dark light.
Kay glanced down at her sling. She kept forgetting. The Fire Eye was filling her with power, with strength, she could feel it blazing inside her, and yet her body was injured, exhausted from the events of the past several days. She reached up with her baton, hooking the sling, and tossed it off into the winds, just as Sella had tossed her cloak. Kay flexed her arm experimentally, feeling the grind of the broken bone but no pain.
She took a deep breath, reaching inside herself, and summoned a flame. This one inside her, right where she felt the splinter of her bones hitting flesh instead of carrying forward smoothly. She concentrated the fire, aware her arm was glowing. She expected pain, but there was none, simply a feeling of rightness as the fire grew within her. She should have done this long ago. The fire probed the injury, the splintered ends of bones, feeling the disruption to her harmonic whole. Then it went to work. Her arm grew hotter, the glow brighter. She felt a rush, her spark stoked by the stream of power leaving it. She felt the bones fuse together, locking into place. And then, with nothing left to do, the fire fell silent and died. Kay again flexed her arm, testing her range of motion. It slid smoothly back and forth. It was as though she’d never been injured.
Now for the Gyudi. Sella had locked her staff beneath her arm, preparing to advance. Olive was slowly sliding to Kay’s right. Daemon had moved to the far edge, setting himself to square with Joah. Kay looked at the two women, then summoned more fire.
She raised her healed arm and sheathed the fingers of her left hand in bands of fire, her own version of the brass knuckles she’d worn into recent fights. Her baton twirled in her right hand, but she added to it a long sash, the mirror of Sella’s. Only hers was made of fire. It danced around her baton, a line of orange flame, hissing in the wind. Kay settled into a fighting stance, letting her sash of fire rest on the ground before her, crackling as it crawled the stones, hungry for fuel.
Sella smiled across from her, looking at the fire enclosing Kay. “Finally,” she sighed contentedly, “the Melor send a worthy champion.” The Head of the Gyudi Dynasty beckoned. “Come dance, clown.”
…
Across a sea of black, on the Starlight Balcony at the Palace, eager eyes scanned the horizon. Any attempts to regulate who could be on the balcony, or who deserved a spot at the railings to look out over Celest, had been given up long ago. Masses of people pressed forward, everyone looking frantically for some sign of life, some resolution to the madness of the evening.
All eyes were regularly drawn to Devero Tower, the only other structure rising high above the murk. But of all those watching, only two looked exclusively at it, ignoring everything else in sight, Abi Yellen and Enos Melor. They were the only ones who knew exactly where to look and why, and as the first flashes of fire were visible far off in the distance, only they among the many felt a horrible ache, a rising fear, as they knew Kay had begun the fight for her life, and perhaps theirs by extension, atop the Halo Balcony.
…
Sella and Olive were near each other, which enabled Joah to draw Daemon off towards the outer edge of the track. The men wasted no time and Daemon’s sword rang out as it clashed against Joah’s knives. By contrast, the Gyudi women seemed in no hurry for resolve. Sella spun her staff, its wicked moonblade catching the light of Kay’s fire. Olive tittered, moving her blades restlessly from side to side, betraying the swiftness of an experienced knife fighter. One who the constrained terrain would favor, making her limited reach less of a liability and her close work more of an asset.
Kay had no time to waste. It took energy and focus to maintain the flames she’d drawn. She’d have to hope it both lasted and helped. She had never formally trained in the fighting arts. She’d survived off stolen lessons from the streets, then informal ones from Amos and Ewan. Kay’s true talent lay in moving quicker than her opponent to strike the first blow. She thrived on surprise, which was not an option here. The women closed in.
Kay opened by attacking Olive. She swept her baton into Olive’s hands, driving the two knives together. She used her spark to draw the trailing fire sash across her front, against the wind, which held Sella back a moment. Kay followed with a strike to Olive’s side, but she danced away with swift steps, laughing as she did. The aborted strike left Kay on the defensive as Sella’s staff came crashing towards her. Kay turned it aside with her baton and was forced to spin backwards in her own retreat.
As Kay settled back into a fresh fighting stance, she had a moment of panic as one foot nearly slid off the edge of the track. She resisted the urge to look down. The Gyudi would have sent her following the gaze if she had. But over Olive’s shoulder, Kay could see the black abyss stretched out below. It was almost calm. A peaceful place to go, far away from the fire and spinning blades atop the halo. In the distance, Joah and Daemon traded blows. Sella and Olive swapped a look, some unseen message sent and received.
If they had a plan, Kay couldn’t let them implement it, and again she seized the offensive. She snapped her fingers, and several handfuls of small flames popped in the air above the track. A momentary recoil from the women gave Kay a chance to leap into an attack, this time at Sella. She slid her baton inside the staff, pushing it away from Sella’s body, then thrust the baton forward, driving it into her ribs. Sella barely noticed the thrust, shielded from damage by her tightly woven scale armor. Kay pulled back as Olive closed, frantically beating off a fury of stabs and crosses.
Kay ducked deeply, letting Sella’s counter get between her and Olive, then immediately ducked back towards the women. From her low vantage point, she was able to drive the butt end of her baton into Olive’s thigh through her thick skirts. Kay felt the hard impact jolt up her arm. Olive stumbled back with a snarl, for once losing her jovial manner. She quickly regained her balance, even as Kay turned aside an attack from Sella. But Olive had fallen back too close to the edge. For a moment, she teetered at the brink. Kay could see her collecting herself, bringing herself forward. Kay was holding the hand wrapped in fire before her, the flames the shape of a set of brass knuckles. She closed her fist. The fire vanished and reappeared in the air before Olive’s face. It was just a flash with no force behind it, yet the surprise led Olive to recoil, and as she halted her return to balance, the youngest sister of the Gyudi Dynasty fell backwards off the ledge.
Olive Gyudi let out a horrible scream as she fell. It was snuffed as she hit the smokeline below, in an instant vanished as if she’d never shared the balcony with them. Sella was still pressing, but she was distracted and withdrew after a hard swipe at Kay’s baton. Behind her, Joah was down to one knife and Daemon was driving him back. Sella looked back over the edge where her sister had just fallen.
As she looked up at Kay, Kay again summoned the flames around her hand, painting her face with orange light. The long sash of fire weaved like smoke in the wind. “Still so certain,” Kay asked, “that you are the one who’s been Chosen?”
Sella gave a fierce snarl and the staff in her hands began spinning impossibly fast, the black sash a tornado. Her face was fury as she sped towards Kay, the scales of her armor dancing in the light of the fire.
Sella launched a sequence of strikes. Kay raced to keep up, hoping her own unconventional style kept her from being predictable. Fire and smoke danced between them as their sashes crossed paths. Sella ended the sequence with a brutal swipe of the moonblade that nearly took Kay’s head off. At the last moment, Kay leaned backwards, feeling the wind as the blade nearly sliced her throat. Sella had aimed too aggressively, trying to decapitate her in a single blow, the only reason Kay lived for another exchange. If Yamar hadn’t beaten her, how could Kay expect to?
They had another exchange which ended with Sella trying to take off Kay’s foot. From some deep reservoir, Kay recognized the sequence. It was the same Sella had tried on Yamar, and she lifted her foot just in time to dodge the finishing blow. She earned another snarl, Sella’s icy demeanor faltering.
They were interrupted by a shout as another fell from the balcony. Both women turned, fear on their faces. Kay sighed in relief as Sella screamed in anger. Joah stood alone at the far end of the track, staring over the edge, wind whipping through his cloak. He turned and faced the women, stooped to pick up his other knife, and began walking towards them.
Kay could win where Yamar had lost because she wasn’t alone. If Kay was a champion of the Melor, a champion of the Fire Eye, she wasn’t the only one. Sella had brought her family to the fight. So had Kay. Her brother, who she had walked through fire to save, years before, and who had never failed to stand by her side since.
Sella’s staff was a whirlwind as she opened her stance to prepare for Joah’s arrival. She didn’t stand still for long, launching a series of strikes at Kay before Joah could engage and even the balance. Kay fell back, ignoring the whirling of the black sash and pulling vulnerable targets out of the range of the moonblade. She gave a token return strike, but both knew they were entering a new phase of the fight.
Sella abruptly leapt backwards, spinning, to strike at the nearing Joah and drive him back. He caught the first attack on his knife. The second dipped below his guard and nearly sliced open his thigh, but Sella had pulled the blow to defend from a swipe of Kay’s baton. Sella again spun, this time towards Kay.
Sella was a tempest of fury, but she had forgotten one thing. Her long, black sash trailed her every move. When she spun again, she hadn’t accounted for its lag, and
it wrapped around her. Surprise crossed her face as it enclosed her arms. Kay jumped towards her. The sash constricted Sella’s arms just enough that she was slow to stop Kay’s blow from driving her staff backwards into her body. Her balance shifted upwards, her toes straining to bring her body back down, and Kay lowered her shoulder and rammed into Sella, sending her toppling over the side of the Halo Balcony.
Sella Gyudi, leader and last living member of the Gyudi Dynasty, had no time to scream before the black ocean rose up to claim another soul.
Chapter 38. A Fire Waiting
As soon as he’d verified Kay was okay, Joah was off like an arrow, headed down the stairs to find Jenna. Kay could hear her give a cry of relief and a set of muffled grunts as the pair embraced. She stayed on the balcony, looking over the horizon.
The Palace shone in the distance. Every window was brightly lit, as though in defiance of the darkness over the rest of the city. Yamar was over there, somewhere. Hopefully they’d had the foresight and courtesy to carry him above the smokeline. She’d told him she’d find him on the other side of the darkness. That she’d have a fire waiting. She hoped time wouldn’t prove her a liar, but she had more business to take care of yet tonight.
She wished for a railing to lean on. The fight had left her tired. Much of her energy had fled. She wondered if she could repeat her efforts, the heavy and inventive use of her spark, ever again. Right now summoning a flame seemed as impossible as willing the sun to rise.
Joah and Jenna were on the stairs, talking softly as they walked up behind her and waited. After a long while of staring out over the black, Kay finally pointed. “There.” Joah stepped up beside her. “Do you see? Right there, just above the smokeline.”
Joah followed her finger to a peaked structure, over near Hook Point, though the neighborhoods were hard to distinguish with only the Palace as a landmark. A soft glow issued forth. A light was on. Joah grunted in affirmation.
The Fire Eye Chosen_Sequel to The Fire Eye Refugee Page 24
