Heir of Autumn

by Giles Carwyn

  “It’s all right,” Bae whispered. “It’s over. It’s all over.”

  Shara struggled for breath. “Where is he? Where is he now?”

  “Far away. He can’t hurt you.”

  “I can hear him calling. He wants me back.”

  “Hold on to that,” Vallia said, nodding at the pendant. “It will help.”

  “Yes,” Shara said, gripping the stone desperately. Her racing heart calmed when she touched it. Her master’s voice became a ghost in the back of her mind.

  “We can help you break free of him,” Baelandra said. The Sisters carried her a few steps forward. “Victeris has put something deep inside your mind, like a hook in the belly of a fish. That is what you hear, but we can take it out. We can get him out of your head.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t worry about that. You’ve just awoken. Wait until you get your strength back, and we will try.”

  “No. Now. I cannot stand it.”

  “Shara, you—”

  “Now! Do it now!” she shouted. Her voice echoed through the tunnel.

  Baelandra and Vallia exchanged a glance, then led Shara around a corner into a cavern lit by many torches, their light glittering off the bizarre rock formations. The heavyset Sister, Hazel, and the wizened Jayden were waiting for her, sitting next to a lambskin pad spread across the stone floor. Baelandra and Vallia helped Shara sit down.

  “You know the Sisters of Spring and Summer?”

  Shara nodded at each of the women in turn.

  Crawl. She had to crawl.

  Vallia began extinguishing the torches by thrusting them into a bucket of sand.

  “What is this?” Shara asked, holding up her fist with the pendant locked inside.

  “That is a piece of the Heartstone,” Jayden said. “The same thing we carry in our chests.” The old woman touched the front of her dress.

  “The stone was created as a shield against men like Victeris,” Vallia said, thrusting another torch into the bucket. The Sister of Winter left a single torch burning. The firelight cast deep shadows on the woman’s angular face. “If you were a true Sister, he could never touch you, but the pendant offers some protection to those not of the blood. That is why you still hear his call but are not compelled by it.”

  Vallia sat down next to the others. Shara looked from face to face. Her head hurt. It was hard to understand what they were saying. “Do I have to take the Test?” Shara asked.

  Hazel shook her head. The woman’s pudgy cheeks bunched up as she smiled. “No, dear. All we need to do is cut the thread he has woven into your mind.”

  “What thread?” She blinked, closed her eyes and opened them. It was so hard to concentrate. “He wove something into my mind? How?”

  “We don’t exactly know,” Hazel said, “but it would have to have been when you were very vulnerable. Perhaps during an intimate moment, when you were alone with him.”

  “My graduation,” Shara murmured. Her heart beat faster. “That was the first time…”

  “Good, good, we’ll start there,” Hazel said. “Is it all right if we touch you? It will make this easier.”

  Shara hesitated and slowly nodded. She tried to control her breath, but she couldn’t focus. There was nothing to hold on to.

  “Lie down here,” Baelandra said, patting the lambskin.

  Shara leaned back, and Baelandra helped her down. The four women moved into a circle around her. They unlaced the front of their dresses and pulled them open over their shoulders, exposing the softly glowing stones embedded in their chests. The red, white, green, and yellow diamonds pulsed together like a single heartbeat.

  Hazel and Baelandra rested their palms lightly on Shara’s shoulders. Jayden and Vallia did the same on her thighs. Shara cringed at their touch. Her legs and arms trembled. She didn’t want anyone to touch her ever again.

  “I want to guide you through that memory, that intimate moment,” Hazel said. “Do you understand?”

  “No.”

  “I want you to tell me about your graduation. What was happening the moment before you first saw Victeris?”

  Shara’s breath came in small gasps. “No…I…no.”

  “It’s all right. You are safe now. You don’t have to go back there,” Hazel said. “If you don’t want to.”

  The Sister’s hands were hot on her skin. She could hear music somewhere, voices singing in the distance, but she couldn’t make out the words. She wanted to tell them that she couldn’t possibly go back there, couldn’t possibly face Victeris, but she kept getting distracted by the music.

  “What’s that? Who’s singing?”

  Hazel and Baelandra exchanged a look, then Hazel spoke. “That is the Heartstone.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Shara murmured.

  “Then listen to the song. Listen to her voice as you listen to mine.”

  Shara nodded, letting the faint sounds swirl around her. Her eyes wanted to close. She forced them open, but they were heavy, and started closing again.

  “I want you to tell me a story,” Hazel continued after a long time. “About a woman named Shara. You are safe in a corner watching this woman named Shara while she takes her Zelani graduation. Can you tell me that story?”

  “I think so,” Shara said, her eyelids drooping. The orange light on the cave’s ceiling shifted and flickered.

  “Are you safe in a corner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, tell me what you see. What is Shara doing?”

  “She’s swimming in the underground cave.”

  “Good. What does Shara do next?”

  “She just broke the surface of the water. The island is right in front of her.”

  “Good. Is there a man there?”

  “He’s there.” The beautiful song faded. Shara couldn’t keep ahold of it. She jerked.

  “It’s all right. You are safe in the corner. Who is he?”

  “Victeris. He’s climbing out of the water. He’s staring at me.”

  “At a woman named Shara?”

  “Yes, at Shara. He wants her.”

  “Good, what do they do next?”

  “They circle each other, drawing closer. I…I can’t.”

  “Close your eyes, dear,” Hazel said. Her soft voice was comforting. “Don’t look at him. I want you to close your eyes.”

  “All right.”

  “Good, dear. Now, I want you to leave the corner and climb into the water.”

  Shara nodded.

  “Are you in the water?” Hazel asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good, go under the water. It’s all right, you can breathe. Keep your eyes closed.”

  “All right.”

  “Are you under? Can you breathe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now open your eyes and tell me what you see through the water. I want you to watch a woman named Shara circle a man named Victeris from underwater. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does Shara look like?”

  “Her back is to me. She has long, black hair. It’s wet, like a wide stripe down her back. She is naked.”

  “That’s good. Tell me what happens next.”

  “He’s touching her. Her breasts…”

  “Keep watching, dear. What is happening?”

  “He is on top of her, fucking her,” Shara said in a toneless voice.

  “Yes, dear. What else?”

  “She’s having an orgasm. She’s gone, left the room. She’s part of everything, the whole world.”

  “Stay in the water, dear. Look at him through the water. What is he doing while she is away?”

  Shara clutched the pendant, her fingernails digging into her palm. She had a terrible headache, she could barely speak.

  “He’s saying something, whispering into her ear,” Shara said.

  “What does he say, dear?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

  “It’s all right, you are safe under
the water. Close your eyes. Listen to his words. Listen through the water.”

  Shara twitched, sucked in a breath of air.

  “‘I am Victeris,’ he says, ‘I’m Victeris, the source of your power,’ that’s what he says.”

  Shara twitched again. Her hands curled up to protect her face. The pendant’s chain pulled tight.

  “Is there more?” Hazel asked.

  “Yes,” she whimpered, then continued. “‘When I call, you will come to me,’ he says. ‘When I speak, you will obey.’”

  Shara ripped the pendant from her neck. She pounded the floor with her fists, twisting and turning trying to get away. Gentle hands held her arms, her legs.

  “That’s enough,” Hazel said calmly. “Come back to me. Come back to my voice.”

  Shara thrashed, but the Sisters held her in place.

  “Come back to me,” Hazel said. “Come back to the Heart. You are here with your Sisters, you are safe.”

  Shara opened her eyes. The four women were still sitting around her. Their heartstones shone in the dim light. Shara blinked, struggled to sit up. Baelandra helped her.

  “Don’t bend your knees,” the Sister of Autumn said. “Keep them straight. They are still healing.”

  Shara winced, nodding. “What happened?” she asked. “Did I fall asleep?”

  Hazel shook her head. She smiled and looked at Shara’s hand. She opened her fist to reveal the stone. An inky darkness swirled within the crystal.

  “No, my dear,” Hazel said. “You just saved your own life.”

  15

  BROPHY STEPPED out of the tunnel into the arena. He paused at the walkway’s stone wall to watch the boys training below.

  The last two days in bed had been excruciating. Nothing was as horrible as the first night in the latrine, but Brophy was thoroughly sick of the underground prison that had become his home. He was still tired and weak, but it felt good to get up.

  He had walked for more than an hour on the King’s Road to reach the arena. His Ape guard trailed him in silence. Brophy had nicknamed him Tiny.

  Tiny fell in stride behind Brophy as he walked down the spiral ramp to the arena floor. He found Scythe on the far side of the arena, watching the contestants train.

  “Wait here,” Brophy told his hulking shadow. “I need to talk to my trainer.”

  Tiny scowled for a moment, but did what he was told, standing with his arms crossed at the edge of the arena.

  Brophy walked over to Scythe. The Kher concentrated on the fighter he was watching. His eyes flicked left, up, right as he followed the contestant’s sword.

  “Are you fully recovered?” Scythe asked.

  “No, I’m still weak, but I can do some things.”

  Scythe shook his head, his eyes narrowing over his hawk nose. “Come back when you are fully recovered. If you are not prepared to be the winner, don’t set foot on the field.”

  Brophy frowned. He almost told Scythe that there were mental aspects to the game that he could learn, but he held his tongue. Bae once said, “If you always understand what your teacher is doing and why he is doing it, you have grown beyond that teacher.”

  Brophy left Scythe to his studying and walked slowly around the arena until he noticed Tidric. Brophy paused, then walked toward him.

  The skinny boy stood by himself, watching the others as he practiced with a short sword. There were a few like Tidric in the arena, young boys with no money who couldn’t get trainers to take them on. As soon as the boy saw Brophy, he rushed over. Tidric pumped Brophy’s hand heartily, speaking all the while.

  “I couldn’t believe you caught that pillar after Phee pushed you. It was amazing!”

  “Thanks,” Brophy said.

  “And then in the Jackal pit. You got lucky on that one. By the Nine, you were finished! And then that snail Bellu slipped, and you had him. Zam! Quick as a crocodile. You took him down with one punch!”

  “I knocked him out?” Brophy asked.

  “No, but he was still woozy when they hauled you away from the crocodile pit.” Tidric sobered. “You had them there, too. You were faster than everyone.”

  “But not smarter.”

  “Well, anyway, you did really well in the first two contests. Are we going to run together again? Next month I will make it for sure.”

  “Why do you think next month will be any different?”

  Tidric’s smile vanished, and his gaze fell to the ground. He gouged a hole in the sandy arena with his toe. “Because I have to win.”

  “Why?”

  “My family is depending on me.”

  “Ah,” Brophy said. “Is that why you don’t have a trainer?”

  He shrugged again, still studying his twisting toe. “I guess. Sponsors pay the trainers. They don’t teach for free. My sister is my sponsor, and we don’t have the money for a trainer.” Tidric shook his head and looked back up at Brophy. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll make it without a trainer.”

  “No, you won’t,” Brophy said. Tidric had desire, willpower, and a strong body. What he lacked was discipline.

  The boy’s nostrils flared, and he flushed.

  “I’ll make a deal with you,” Brophy said, cutting Tidric off just as he opened his mouth to retort. Brophy pointed to Scythe. “See that man over there? Go talk to him, see if he will take you on as a student. He won’t ask for money. He is…a friend of my family. If he agrees to teach you, I will run with you next month and both of us will make the top nine.”

  Tidric looked over at Scythe. “That man?”

  Brophy nodded.

  “But he’s so small.”

  Brophy laughed. “You’re welcome to challenge him to a duel if he doesn’t look impressive enough.”

  Tidric’s brow furrowed. “No.”

  He left Brophy and walked slowly toward Scythe. Brophy moved on, passing Phee and his kinsmen. One of Phee’s cousins, Rejta, made a retching noise and doubled over. Phee coughed and retched as well. Soon, the whole group was grabbing their stomachs, bending over.

  Brophy felt a flash of temper, but he set it aside and shook his head at their childish prank. He left the laughing boys behind and continued on his way. One corner of the arena held six massage tables and Brophy spotted Phanqui atop one of them. Brophy made a beeline for the king’s cousin. Phanqui looked up, smiling under the ministrations of the old man who kneaded his leg.

  “Well, if it isn’t the drowned prince of Ohndarien. I heard you shat your entire body out of your ass and died.”

  “Almost. At the last instant, I jammed my thumb in and saved my life.”

  Phanqui chuckled. “Good to hear it. I’m glad you’re not dead, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t shake your hand.”

  Brophy smiled. “I’ll forgive you. But I’m curious. Phee and his group are out there, getting better. What are you doing here?”

  “Ah, my legs. You set a devilish pace, and my legs are still cramped up. I’ll start training in a couple of days.”

  Brophy frowned. Athyl’s leg was all but useless, but Brophy could see him practicing across the arena. Brophy cut right to the point.

  “Are you going to make the final nine next month?”

  Phanqui grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Good luck to you then.” Brophy frowned, turned on his heel, and walked away.

  “Brophy, wait!” Phanqui jumped off the table, pulling a rough towel around himself. Brophy turned back around, giving Phanqui a flat stare.

  “I’ll help you again next month, if you have problems with Phee and his lot.”

  “Thanks,” Brophy said. “But I need help in the arena, not in the desert. You didn’t want to get to the arena last month, and it doesn’t sound like next month will be any different.”

  Phanqui looked as if Brophy had slapped him.

  “If you want to be in the top nine, go talk to that man over there.” Brophy pointed at Scythe, who was shaking his head at Tidric. “He’ll get you in the arena.”

  “Him? H
e’s teaching the gnat,” Phanqui said, making a sour face.

  “Yes.”

  “He can’t be expensive, then. I have—”

  “He’s free.”

  “What?”

  “A friend of my family.”

  Phanqui gave Brophy a tolerant smile. “Look, Brophy, I know you’re new here and all, but my teacher is—”

  “He won at Nine Squares.”

  “He—What?” Phanqui’s brow furrowed. “When?”

  “Twelve years ago.”

  “But he’s so small.” Phanqui narrowed his eyes, trying to study Scythe across the distance.

  “Go talk to him,” Brophy said. “Tell him you think your teacher is better than him. See what he says.”

  Brophy left Phanqui standing with the towel wrapped around his waist, staring at Scythe. He went to Athyl next. The scarred man stretched his bad leg, grimacing. Brophy knelt next to him. “How’s the leg?”

  “It can’t be worse than your belly.”

  “My belly isn’t so bad anymore, but the smell in my nose won’t go away.”

  Athyl leaned forward, touching his toes through a silent snarl.

  “Will you be ready to race next month?” Brophy asked.

  “I will be there. I got as far as the Serpent square when Sheedar clipped me from behind.”

  Brophy noticed the bandage underneath Athyl’s tunic through the sleeve hole. He shrugged.

  For the first time, Athyl showed a hint of a smile. “Phee’s little brother. You stuck your foot in his face at the beginning of the race.”

  “Ah.”

  “He is decent with a sword. Quieter than I would have thought, too.”

  Brophy nodded. “I want your help in the next race.”

  Athyl stopped stretching and looked past Brophy to Scythe, who was talking to Phanqui while Tidric practiced.

  “I see you are gathering your own kinsmen.”

  “It’s good to have friends.”

  “It is, but are they really your friends?”

  “What have they got to lose?” Brophy asked.

  “We can’t all be champion.”

  “Not true. There can be four champions in four different months.”

  Athyl smiled. His burned face twisted up wickedly.

  “If four of us make the top nine,” Brophy said. “We target Phee and his kinsmen in the first few rounds. Then it will be four against a few solos. I like those odds.”