The Way of the Blade

by Stuart Jaffe

  “You do remember.”

  “Every day after working in the fields, you had a batch waiting. That’s something a man won’t ever let go of.”

  Mrs. Colthworer covered her mouth with both hands. “I wanted to tell you that I saw you speak at the Assembly Hall, and I completely support you. We live in dangerous times, and if you think that we can make good use of this Malja person, then we should do it.”

  Javery clasped her hand between his. “I’ll certainly try.”

  “That’s all anybody can ask of you. But I don’t want to mar the day with such talk. Your sister is getting married! You must be so proud of her.”

  They chatted on for another ten minutes, and although Mrs. Colthworer had something to say about any subject, Javery let her ramble on. Her kind words reminded him that there were others out in the world who had a say in the leadership of this town. Shual was not a dictator.

  Thirty minutes later, Javery walked around the ceremony area one last time. Nobody appeared panicked, so he guessed he had no fires to put out. Then he saw Malja, Fawbry, and Tommy approach.

  He started for them when Druzane curled around his arm. “Introduce me.”

  Javery noticed the weight of the necklace in his pocket. “My pleasure,” he said, and led the way.

  Two attendants blocked Malja, and voices growled between them. When Javery reached them, he heard one attendant say, “I’m sorry but that is the rule. No weapons are allowed.”

  “I’ll handle this,” Javery said to the relief of the attendants. He turned to Malja. “You do have our sincerest apologizes. Unfortunately, the boy is right. There’s a long standing tradition of keeping all weapons outside the ceremonial areas. Mostly this is to stop any jealous lovers from barging in on a wedding and causing trouble.”

  “What if I sit in the back?” Malja asked. “Nobody would be bothered by me, then.”

  Javery shook his head.

  Druzane piped up. “If you’re okay with the suggestion, why don’t you have the lady place her blade just outside the ceremonial area lines? She can keep an eye on it there, and we won’t be upsetting any of the traditionalists who’ll be coming today.”

  Javery raised his eyebrows. “That would work. Malja?”

  “Fine.” Malja pulled out her weapon and handed it to Fawbry. He carefully laid it nearby.

  “Perfect,” Druzane said. “And within reach, should you need it.”

  Malja’s eyes narrowed on Druzane. “Who are you?”

  Clearing his throat, Javery said, “This is the woman I’m going to marry. But don’t tell anyone. We haven’t officially announced it yet.”

  “Congratulations,” Malja said, her voice never lifting beyond what sounded to Javery like a cold threat. “Fawbry, Tommy, let’s go find some seats.”

  Once they had walked away, Javery took Druzane to the side of the house. “What is going on?” he demanded. “Why would you suggest that Malja needed to keep her blade close by? What’s with all these cryptic surprises?”

  “Stop worrying. Everything’s going to work out fine.” Druzane licked her lips and pressed Javery against the house. “Nobody can see us here. You want to have one last poke before you make an honest woman of me?”

  Javery pushed her back. She pouted playfully, but Javery swore he saw concern on her face, too. “Please. Tell me what’s going on.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you love me?”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure you’ve ever said it to me before. If I’m going to marry you, I want to know that you love me — that you’ll defend me, that you’ll comfort me, that you’ll stand by my decisions even when others are against us.”

  “Is that what all this mystery is about?” Javery chuckled. “You’re worried I don’t love you.”

  Blushing, Druzane said, “Even us brash girls can be insecure.”

  “You had me thinking ... but you said ... oh, never mind all that. Druzane, listen to me now and remember this always. I love you. Okay? I love you and I will marry you and we will save our people from the Scarites and we will be happy.”

  “I love you, too.” She kissed him quick and dashed off around the house.

  Javery stood alone, staring at the sky, smiling. He thanked Carsite and Pali for bringing Druzane into his life. Women confused him, but given time, Druzane would teach him all he needed to know.

  The musicians played the wedding overture, a single horn producing the traditional melody, to announce the ceremony would soon commence. Javery snapped from his thoughts and walked a brisk pace toward the back of the ceremonial area. He took a seat two rows behind Malja so that she would hear him clearly when his turn came.

  Once the guests had settled, the musicians paused for two beats before launching into the wedding song. Upbeat, proud, and full of pleasant harmonies, the song floated in the air as if it had been written in the Great Well. The clouds parted enough to shine the sun’s warmth upon them. It appeared that Carsite looked favorably on this wedding.

  Canto stood from his seat in the front row and entered the ceremonial circle. Dressed in an immaculate, white robe with a matching hat that had frilling which reached to his shoulders, Canto looked every part the handsome groom. His parents watched from the front row. Javery had to shake his head at that — typical Father.

  In modern weddings, the parents from both sides of the couple partook in the ceremony. However, Father insisted on a traditional wedding — one in which the groom’s family was mostly ignored. Canto should have fought that idea, but he wanted to keep softening Father. So he can take what should be mine.

  Father entered next. Walking down the main aisle, passing the guests with his long train and floating bells, he stood as straight as he could manage and jostled his shoulders to make sure the bells jingled. Mother should have been with him, but apparently he decided some traditions needed modifying. She sat in the front row next to Canto’s parents.

  Finally, Soralia made her entrance. For Javery, everything stopped. He no longer heard the musicians or thought about his pompous father or even concerned himself with Druzane. He only saw his sweet Si-Si, her incredible glow, her undeniable joy.

  She stood upon a piece of infused metal so tiny none could see it. Her main job at that moment was to keep her balance while her maiden, Reety, held her hand and pulled her along the aisle. Her robe looked even tighter, and Javery prayed to Carsite that his sister did not pass out. Two flags poked out of the back of her dress — each arm horizontal and the flag hanging to display the two families’ colors. Gold and blue for Canto’s side. Green and white for Soralia’s.

  Once in the circle, Father and Reety helped Soralia down, and she held Canto’s hand as they turned to the side. Reety used a white sash to tie the metal piece to the chair of Canto’s father — a sign of respect and the joining of families. The officiator stood before Canto and Soralia, their profiles to the guests, and the tale of Carsite, Scarite, and Pali was told.

  As the officiator worked his way through the well-known story, Javery noticed Druzane standing by the food table. That was odd. Not only because, other than the hired hands for the day, all the guests sat in chairs, but because she did not watch the wedding at all. At first, Javery assumed she stared at him, burning into his mind her desire for the engagement announcement. But her eyes never locked with his. In fact, she appeared to be checking the sky, sneaking glances while also looking beyond the ceremonial area into the orchard.

  He ignored her, trying to focus on his sister’s wedding, but she did it again. A glance into the sky. A peek into the orchard. Anxiety over the engagement? Possibly, but that didn’t sound right to Javery’s ear.

  Then Malja turned around and looked upward. She studied the sky for a moment, turned back, and observed the orchard. She whispered something to Fawbry, and then he, too, glanced around. He shrugged and whispered back, shaking his head.

  Javery didn’t want to look. I’ve got my part in the ceremony to do. I’ve g
ot to announce my engagement. I’ve got to — But Druzane did it again.

  Snapping his head around, he looked into the sky and saw two dark dots. It couldn’t be. He started to stand but remembered the wedding going on and froze half out of his chair. He caught Druzane’s eyes this time. She trembled out a smile — anxious, eager, even excited, and certainly seeking his approval.

  With apologies to the woman sitting next to him, he exited the row and walked to the back. He pretended to dab at his forehead and look at the sun. In the sky he counted three dark dots now. And they were growing.

  He paced at the back, peeking between the ceremony and the sky. Canto and Soralia and Father took no notice of him. The entire audience watched the wedding. That’s good, I think. Unless those dots turned out to be what he feared.

  He caught Druzane’s eyes and motioned for her to come over. She looked back as if to say that she was stuck, but he didn’t care. He pointed to the ground next to him, his face tight and red. With a bashful bow and her hand on her stomach, she backed away from the table and quietly walked up the side.

  When she reached Javery, her own face had turned fierce. “What do you think you’re doing? Your moment is about to be here.”

  “What do you know about those dots in the sky?”

  “Dots? What do mean?”

  He grabbed her arm. “I saw you watching them. You know I did.”

  “My love, calm down. I told you that I was going to help you and I have. They weren’t supposed to come until after the ceremony, but you can’t really trust them.” Her words smacked into Javery, stunning him like a blow to the head. “Don’t act shocked. You said yourself that Malja single-handedly destroyed a wellspiker. What’s two or three of these idiots?”

  “But people might get hurt.”

  “People always get hurt. You don’t really think you can fight a war without injury, do you?”

  “Of course not. But —”

  “Enough.” She checked that they had not disturbed anybody. “We can talk about this tonight. But we have a wedding to finish.” Without giving Javery a chance to respond, she gracefully walked back to the food table.

  Sitting down where he had before, he thought of all the ways this could turn bad. He wanted to be livid with Druzane, but she had done this drastic thing for him. And it might work, too. Except, he wanted to make sure that the least number of people were hurt.

  He leaned forward and tapped Malja’s shoulder. “Something bad is going to happen. You’ll be needing your weapon.”

  Malja gazed into the sky again. “What are they?”

  Even the feel of the word on his tongue sent chills across his chest. “Scarite.”

  Chapter 9

  Malja

  Malja turned fully around in her seat. “Scarite? You mean, your enemy?”

  The woman sitting next to Javery suddenly paled. He patted her shoulder. “It’s okay. They’re not real Scarite.”

  “No?” the woman said.

  “If they were, we wouldn’t be sitting her, would we?”

  “Um ... no?”

  “No. It’s all part of a show we’re throwing after the wedding is over. Why don’t you move a few rows closer? You’ll see my sister better that way. And don’t look in the sky. You’ll spoil the surprise for everyone else.”

  The woman did as instructed, though she looked back at Javery several times. Malja expected her to pass out, but she held it together.

  Feeling her jaw clench, she said, “Why aren’t you getting these people out of here? You’ve got to get ready to fight.”

  Lowering his voice so far that Malja had to lean in to hear, Javery said, “If I yell that three Scarites are attacking, this crowd will panic. They’ll trample each other. Besides, it’s my sister’s wedding. If I’m wrong, and those are just three autoflys bringing in late guests, Father will see to it that I don’t ever get another Waypoint built.”

  To her side, Malja noticed Tommy staring at the sky. Three dots growing. Whatever they were, they moved fast. “Fawbry,” she said, snapping her fingers at him. “Get me Viper.”

  “Hold on. This wedding is charming.”

  Malja punched his shoulder hard enough to get him to look at her. His gaze lifted from her face to the three splotches in the sky. “I’ll be right back.”

  “And now we make the Call for Love,” the officiator said. “Is there anyone who wishes to share their joy on this special day so that, like the love of Carsite and Pali, only love will surround these two as they embark on this wonderful journey together?”

  An old woman whose robe hung loose over her fragile body stood. “Though my darling Roostal left this world two years ago, I still wake each morning feeling the warmth of love we shared. May the two of you build a love that can endure beyond a lifetime.” As she sat, several guests applauded.

  Malja moved her head close to Javery. “You’ve got to say something. Get them out of here.”

  “You don’t understand.” Javery’s hand squeezed his pocket. With an odd grin, he rose from his seat, but another man four rows up, stood faster and spoke of his love for his girlfriend.

  As Javery sat back, Malja said, “Is that it? You won’t save these people because you want to have a chance to talk about your love?”

  The man speaking finished. Guests applauded. And as he bent to sit down, a stream of fire cut through the sky and ignited his back.

  Before the chaos of battle erupted, two seconds passed. Two seconds while all the guests stared at this man on fire, no one able to react. Even the man stood there, still bent over, clearly aware that something had gone wrong but unable to process it. Like a horrifying tableau, they watched until the man’s cheeks shivered, his mouth opened wide, and he jolted into the aisle, shrieking in sharp bursts.

  A woman pointed to the sky. “Scarites!” All the guests looked to the sky.

  Malja peered up as well and saw the first Scarite descending. Wearing his robes from the waist down, the Scarite’s bare chest displayed his muscular strength. A thick, iron collar surrounded his neck — Viper would have a hard time cutting through that. He flew without aid of any mechanism Malja could see, but she recalled that Javery said they had magic. As the Scarite hovered above, Malja saw the hatred that began in his eyes, rippled across his bald head, and finished in the strangest part of all — the snakes.

  Four of them. Thick as a man’s leg, these green, black, and brown snakes grew out of the Scarite’s back, curving over his shoulders and around his sides. One reared its head and spit out a ball of flame that smashed into the chairs below.

  The second Scarite arrived next to the first. This one also had four snakes writhing from his back. Instead of fire, his snakes spat out an electric arc the reminded Malja of Tommy’s lightning magic. The bolt crackled as it dug a line through the legs of a young woman.

  “Can you disturb your precious wedding now?” Malja asked Javery, spitting her words out. Her fingers curled into a fist, but she didn’t need to punch him.

  He stormed ahead of the group and waved toward the farmhouse. “In there! To the house!” he yelled, pushing some people, pointing the way for others. “Hurry!”

  Malja had no illusions that the farmhouse would protect them, but it got people moving away from what she intended to be the battlefield. Canto’s deep voice boomed from the circle as he, too, attempted to usher his guests to the farmhouse for safety. Javery snapped some words, but Canto ignored him.

  Fawbry finally managed to weave through the trampling crowd. He handed Viper over. Before Malja could say a word, he turned to Tommy and pointed to the house. Tommy nodded and rushed off. Then Fawbry went to help the woman whose legs had been damaged.

  As Malja wondered how Fawbry had convinced Tommy to take shelter, she saw the third Scarite approach. This one hovered above the other two. Unlike his brethren, this one had not shaved his head but rather had brown hair that reached his shoulders. And snakes. Malja counted ten — all wriggling and slithering along his back, sho
ulders and arms; all thick-bodied and emerging out of his back. Some poked their heads into his long hair. One snapped at his neck but the iron collar protected this Ten Snakes from harm.

  More fire and lightning shot out of the four-snake Scarites, turning the ceremonial area into a smoldering ruin. They flew forward, passing over Malja, pushing their destruction at the heels of the guests. Herding the guests right into the farmhouse.

  Malja searched around for something to help her reach one of the Scarites but saw nothing. Ten Snakes moved ahead, his hands in fists on his hips like a classic conqueror. His attention turned to a middle-aged man, gray and doughy but running toward the farmhouse with surprising strength.

  Ten Snakes thrust out his hand and four of his snakes trembled as if receiving sharp electric jolts. The middle-aged man lifted off the ground. He shouted and flailed but nothing would free him.

  Forming a fist, Ten Snakes bared his jagged teeth and growled. All of his snakes trembled now, their eyes wide and dilated. A single, sharp yelp erupted from the middle-aged man but turned into a choked garble as a thick, brown and tan snake emerged from his open mouth. Smaller snakes slid out of his ears and nose, each one covered in blood and mucus. His screams muted by the creatures blocking his mouth were no less terrible. A green snake with black stripes pushed out his right eyeball as it forced its way from his body. His fingers came next — the tips ripping open to let the unending parade of snakes loose. Then his skin opened up and in seconds he became a wriggling mass of snakes that flopped to the ground and slithered away.

  As those running to the farmhouse shrieked at the sight, Ten Snakes relaxed and wiped away a trickle of sweat. He floated toward the farmhouse, causing the people to cower. That was when Malja noticed that Tommy had not sought to hide in the farmhouse but rather stood in front of it, his eyes focused on the tattoo on the right side of his stomach.

  Three of the snakes from Ten Snakes’ back stretched outward and spat toward the farmhouse. What came from their mouths converged into a glowing green blast. But it never reached the house. The blast hit a wall in midair and dissipated.