by Astrid Amara
Still, Tarek had to be grateful. His father could spend the last of his days in comfort, being fed by servants of his own, enjoying the warm springs of the Dragewan palace grounds, luxuriating in the views of the perfect garden. What more could Tarek have wished for?
Well, he could have had his mother with him as well. She died two years earlier when fever had swept through their village. Tarek was not over it. He would never be over it. His parents had been his whole world.
Tarek dressed quickly, in light blue trousers and golden armor. He wore a gray harafa scarf over his chest, and put on the ruby and diamond rings that had been given to him since he had become lord of Dragewan a year ago. He still wore the plain gold earrings he had been given by his mother, the only trace of his life prior to his rise of power.
Tarek owned several diadems. Remembering his appointment with Darvad for breakfast, Tarek chose the heaviest of them all, a golden crown studded with sapphires that would match the rest of his outfit. Darvad liked to see him in all his finery.
As his charioteer prepared the horses, one of Dragewan’s state ministers approached Tarek, requesting a review of some documents. Tarek looked them over briefly, and made a few recommendations, however he left most of the decisions up to them. He was not trained in governance, and he trusted his ministers with most of the important details of running the state. Dragewan was small and by no means wealthy, but it could keep its people fed with income from its copper mines. For that, Tarek was grateful. Darvad could have granted him territory with nothing, after all.
The chariot ride from his house to the palace was short, but the journey was slow this morning as workmen with rickety wagons congested the wide, shaded boulevards surrounding Tarek’s townhouse.
Once inside the palace, a servant led Tarek to Darvad’s private quarters. Tarek hoped to be the first one there, as he disliked sharing Darvad with other friends and advisors. Happily, Tarek arrived early enough to catch Darvad alone. Darvad smiled as Tarek entered the room and embraced him warmly.
Darvad was pure muscle, every part of his body toned, chiseled, and perfected. He had joyful brown eyes and brown hair that remained permanently restricted under the massive gold diadem that Darvad perpetually wore. Darvad also wore large earrings, shaped like maces, and had on bright golden armor inlaid with the image of the sun.
He looked beautiful to Tarek. And that was a problem.
Tarek had known his entire life that he found men attractive. It was simply a fact of nature. He kept his desires to himself, and other than a few discreet encounters, had left his sexuality to wander off by itself, starve, and die. He had no interest in endangering the reputation of his family or himself just for a quick fuck. He had enough of an active imagination to amuse himself.
But Darvad was the first man that Tarek had fallen in love with. And he knew that Darvad did not reciprocate his feelings, which made the situation worse.
Spending all his time with someone he loved who didn’t love him back hurt like a physical pain. The torment worsened the more time Tarek spent with his friend. If he stayed away from Darvad, he could purge the desire from his mind. But he missed Darvad terribly. And when he saw Darvad, his gratitude at being with him subdued his inappropriate cravings, for a time. But they would eventually flare up again, demanding attention, and it drove Tarek mad simply standing in the same room as Darvad without proclaiming his affections.
“How are you today?” Tarek asked.
“I’m wonderful. Druv and I were discussing matters last night, and we’ve come up with a brilliant idea.” Darvad sat at the low table once more, patting the cushion beside him. “Come, sit down. Eat something.”
Tarek sat down and let servants fill his cup with sweet, milky tea. Steaming jasmine rice, eggs, and a bowl of fresh mangoes were placed before him.
As Tarek ate, he studied Darvad’s handsome features, letting himself indulge momentarily.
They spoke of Tarek’s father, and for a moment, happiness overwhelmed Tarek. The sweet taste of mango on his lips, the sight of his best friend by his side, discussing Tarek’s family warmly, it felt as though no other problems existed.
But the illusion shattered as soon as Druv joined them.
Tarek liked Druv Majeo, the dashing young lord of Pagdesh. He was a popular and well-connected man with excessive political savvy. He shared his ample wealth with his friends and allies, and reputedly maintained a vast and powerful network of spies throughout Marhavad that none could rival. Darvad regularly sought Druv’s counsel, because Druv knew the happenings in every state, at any given time.
Druv and Darvad exchanged warm greetings and then Druv took his place at the breakfast table. Tarek asked after Druv’s wife, who had just given birth to Druv’s third child.
But the amiable talk ended immediately thereafter. And this was why Tarek’s spirits always sank when Druv appeared. A politician above everything else, Druv could not stop talking business.
“Did Darvad tell you our new plan to win over the more traditional lords to Darvad’s ascension?” Druv asked Tarek.
Tarek shook his head. “I haven’t heard.”
“Yudar’s influence over the religious lords is powerful,” Darvad said. “We have to find a way to guarantee that the traditionalist states give me their support.”
“And that’s where you come in, Tarek,” Druv said, smiling devilishly. He shoveled rice into his mouth as he spoke. “You are going to be our greatest weapon against Yudar’s ascension to the throne.”
Weariness washed over Tarek. He did not want to be anyone’s political puppet, not even Darvad’s.
But then Darvad placed his hand tenderly on Tarek’s arm. Tarek’s heart surged towards Darvad, hungry for the attention.
Tarek nodded. “What do I have to do?”
“Fight them.” Darvad grinned, his food forgotten, focused entirely on Tarek. “Sit down with them, eat with them. They will be so offended that a Suya has shared their food that they will challenge you to duel. You fight them, with the condition that if they surrender, they must support my claim to the throne over Yudar’s.”
Darvad and Druv both laughed. They seemed oblivious to the notion that Tarek might not want to offend and then fight other lords.
But, Tarek reminded himself, he had taken a holy oath to stand by Darvad’s side. The day that Darvad had proclaimed eternal friendship to Tarek and granted him lordship, Tarek had sworn to protect Darvad with his life. He would not break his oath.
Soon Iyestar and his brother Keshan also joined them, followed, moments later, by Firdaus. As they ate, Darvad informed them of the new plan. Iyestar didn’t like it.
“You will only make them hate Tarek,” Iyestar cautioned. “Not love you.”
“We only need them to agree to support me until Mazar makes his decision,” Darvad said. “Once he sees that even the traditionalists are supporting my claim, Mazar will have no choice but to select me over Yudar.”
It hurt Tarek’s pride to have to remind them of this, but it had to be said. “There is another problem. Since I am Suya, by traditional challenging rules, they can use magical shartas. They’ll slaughter me.”
In truth, even if Tarek were allowed to use magical weapons, he didn’t know any. Only the Triya knew shartas, and these were carefully passed down generations in sacred traditions. The shartas were enchanted, said to come from the Yashva demons. They were hard to wield and even harder to withdraw. And some of them were devastating, capable of destroying entire armies, burning men to ash with a single word.
“I can teach Tarek a sharta from my people. None of the other lords will recognize it,” Firdaus said casually, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “It can be uttered before the challenge begins, and so you will be armed and ready to defend yourself.”
“Brilliant!” Darvad cried. “What do you think, Tarek?”
Tarek just nodded. He would do it because of his vow, and because he loved Darvad. But that did not mean he liked the idea.
Darvad leaned over and scooped some of his food onto Tarek’s plate. “I know you love the crunchy rice,” Darvad whispered.
“I’ll host a dinner next week,” Druv announced. “I’ll invite some of Yudar’s supporters, and we can put the plan into action.”
“What I don’t understand is why you don’t simply challenge Yudar yourself, Darvad,” Firdaus said. “Yudar is a scholar and not a warrior. You would win easily.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Keshan said casually, nodding to Firdaus. “Jandu Paran would most likely fight in Yudar’s place. ”
“So you think Jandu is a better warrior than me?” Darvad asked.
Keshan cocked an eyebrow. “Are you willing to chance it?”
“No,” Darvad admitted.
Keshan offered Darvad a warm smile. “It’s a rare man who has the wisdom to know when he shouldn’t fight.”
Darvad obviously appreciated the turn of the conversation but Firdaus looked disgusted.
“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” Firdaus said lowly. He shot Keshan a cold glare and then made his way to the door. He left the room without another word.
An awkward silence ensued as the four men watched the heavy door fall shut.
“Good,” Iyestar said, as soon as Firdaus was out of earshot. “That man is trouble, Darvad.”
Druv laughed. Darvad just shrugged. “I know, he is strange. But he is powerful, and we need him on our side. Besides, he is part-Yashva, and has many tricks in his mind.”
“I’m part Yashva,” Keshan pointed out. “And so is Iyestar.”
“Yeah,” Iyestar said. “It’s not all it’s made out to be.”
Keshan helped himself to eggs. “Your chef is fantastic, Darvad. I could eat here every meal.”
Darvad smiled back. “You are welcome to.”
Tarek watched Keshan eat. Tarek considered Keshan attractive, but in a soft, pretty way, rather than in the way that Darvad was handsome, masculine and strong.
“That is a beautiful pendant you have there,” Druv said, pointing to the large pearl around Keshan’s neck.
Keshan glanced down at the pendant and smiled. “Do you think so? My favorite artisan in Tiwari made it for me. It has the words of the Jandaivo prayer engraved on the back.”
Druv admired it for a moment longer, and then turned his attentions back to Darvad.
“So we’re going through with this plan? Tarek?”
“Of course,” Tarek agreed.
Darvad nodded. But he eyed Keshan carefully. “It’s good to have you with us Keshan, but I can’t imagine that you’ve come just to bask in my company. There’s something you want, isn’t there?”
“Your company is a delight,” Keshan replied. “But yes, I have something to ask you to consider.”
Keshan reached into his pouch and pulled out a long scroll. He unrolled it and placed it in front of Darvad.
“I have listed here some of the current laws I would recommend changing once you become king,” Keshan said. “They are the primary laws responsible for the degradation of the lower classes. I would like them abolished.”
Keshan stared at Darvad, as if challenging him to disagree.
Tarek did not know Keshan very well. But he knew Iyestar, and knew that the Adaru family was noble and loyal. The idea of someone from such proud lineage working to improve the lives of lower caste members touched Tarek.
Darvad seemed somewhat annoyed to have his breakfast ruined with law, but this did not stop Keshan. Keshan began reading the laws as they currently existed, reciting them by heart rather than reading off the scroll.
“According to the Book of Taivo, if a Chaya caste member harms or kills a Suya, the punishment shall be lashes. But if a Chaya caste members harms or kills a Triya, the punishment shall be death. If a Suya caste member harms or kills a Chaya, the punishment is only a fine, but if a Suya harms or kills a Triya outside of a formal challenge, the punishment is lashes and imprisonment.”
“I know,” Darvad interrupted. “It is unfair.”
The list went on. Darvad politely read along with Keshan, but Tarek knew him well enough to see he only half-listened.
Keshan opened another scroll. “And these are the laws regarding the Jegora.”
Darvad held out his hands. “Wait a moment, Keshan.” Darvad shook his head and chuckled. “While I fully support your agenda, I think we need to take things one step at a time. Let us work with improving the legal status of the Suya and Chaya before we start working on the untouchables, shall we?”
Druv laughed. Even Iyestar seemed momentarily embarrassed by his brother’s enthusiasm. But Keshan frowned.
“The Jegora have it worst of all,” Keshan said. “If they injure any other caste, they are sentenced to death. They face execution anytime a member of another caste feels he’s been defiled by one of them. That can take as little as letting their shadow fall on another caste member.”
“Look,” Darvad interrupted. “I know their lives are terrible. And I hope to rectify that, I truly do.” He nodded. “I will help you, Keshan. But before I make additional promises, I need to know now—where does your allegiance lie?”
Keshan looked surprised by the question. “With you, of course.”
Darvad stared intently. “You have been keeping company with Jandu Paran.”
“I like Jandu,” Keshan admitted. “But I do not agree with his brother’s politics, and I do not support Yudar’s claim to the throne. It is you I support, Darvad.”
“Then you have my support in return,” Darvad said. “However, announcing my intentions to enact such drastic changes as the ones you are suggesting before I have the crown would be political suicide. Mazar wouldn’t even consider giving me the throne. But I promise to address these issues the moment I become king.” Darvad patted Keshan’s shoulder.
The conversation drifted, and Tarek found himself wearying of the company. His days always followed this course, his desperate desire to see Darvad, and then his realization that he would have to spend hours listening to idle chatter he had no interest in. What he really wanted was more time with Darvad alone.
He wished he could get Darvad to focus on something other than the throne and his competition with Yudar. It bordered on obsession.
Darvad put his hand back on Tarek’s shoulder. “After breakfast, I want you all to join me in the dancing hall. I’ve commanded a dance troupe to do a show for us in private.” Darvad winked. “These are the most beautiful women you will ever see!”
Tarek feigned enthusiasm. As the men left, Tarek made an excuse to Darvad, saying he needed to return to the townhouse for Dragewan business.
Darvad’s smile vanished. “What? But I want you to be there. Nothing is as fun without you.” He smiled brightly, and honestly, and Tarek could feel Darvad’s smile warming him to his bones. At moments, like this one, when the true Darvad would shine through the veil of ambition, and stun him with beauty, Tarek could do nothing but concede.
“All right. I’m sure that the business back home can wait.”
Darvad hugged him, and Tarek felt, once more, at peace.
Chapter 6
“Beware.”
Jandu called out the formal warning to his opponent and pulled back his bowstring. He focused on the orchid motif of his master’s shield.
Suddenly, Master Mazar dodged to the left. Jandu held his bowstring taut, following his master’s erratic movements.
Mazar whispered a sharta.
Jandu heard the dark sound of magic words, the sensation like ice down his spine. As Jandu processed the words, he quickly recalled the counter-curse needed to stop the weapon. But Jandu finished too late. Mazar released his sharta with a last hiss of breath and the ground beneath Jandu’s feet gave way. Jandu fell, sinking up to his waist as the ground parted like water under his weight. Dust exploded in a cloud and he choked.
“Damn it.” Jandu dropped his bow to drag himself free of the dry soil, coughing and batting his hand throu
gh the air to dispel the dirt. The weight of the soil pressed against him, and it took a great deal of effort to extract himself.
Mazar approached his star pupil, grinning. “Too slow, Jandu.”
“My apologies, Master.”
“Would you like some help?” Mazar asked.
“No, I’m good.” Jandu groaned as he wriggled his hips and then his legs free. His white shirt and dark blue trousers were coated in a layer of dust.
Mazar patted Jandu’s shoulder, causing another cloud of dust to explode from Jandu’s shirt. “You have to be faster.”
“I know. Let me try again.”
Mazar studied his pupil for a moment, and then nodded. “All right. Same positions.”
Mazar was thin, his muscles sinewy, and his wrinkled skin and grey beard showed his years. He kept his white hair short, and so his large ears protruded significantly, displaying the divot where the tip of his left ear had been clipped by an arrow. An impressive scar sliced across his chin.
But despite his ragged appearance, Mazar still moved with grace. His unrivaled dedication to the study of combat, especially shartas, allowed him to wield magical weapons better than anyone in Marhavad.
All of Mazar’s experience made him more than just Jandu’s hero. He was Jandu’s father figure, the man who had taught Jandu everything he knew about archery.
“Beware!” Master Mazar called from across the practice field. The sun blazed directly overhead, and Jandu wiped sweat from his eyes.
Jandu readied his stance and took aim at his master. “Beware!” he called back.
As Mazar moved, Jandu followed him with his readied arrow. And then came the words of the sharta, shivering through his consciousness like a sinister whisper. The shartas were not of this world, and as they became real words, living words, a split rifted the sky and the Yashva world poured through.
“Adarami andaraya epizanash ashubana darha mandria bedru mandria…” The words shivered down Jandu’s spine. He kept his eyes trained on his master as he uttered the counter-curse quickly, needing to speak the words before his master finished the sentence.
