by Paul Heisel
“Thank you Suun. I owe you for what you did.”
“You owe me nothing. This is what we do. We are the Xialao family and you would have done the same for me.”
Feln nodded, reflecting that things were going to be different. Now all he needed to do was get Owori. It would take him two weeks to go to Sabrin from Borgard, less if he found a horse or another means of travel. Once in Sabrin, it would be a simple matter to gather Owori and head back to Borgard. There he would try invoking the transportation, hoping the magic was strong enough to take him and Owori back to Pyndira.
“You had better go,” Suun said. “We’ll be fine. We’ll be out of here quickly.” Suun’s hands went underneath her clothes and she wriggled, then out came a Favored One belt. “This is Kojo’s belt. It’s now the Xialao family’s possession. Take it with you and give it to Owori. She can then transport to Pyndira with you if you magic isn’t strong enough. You’ll have to teach her how to use it though.”
Feln took a deep breath, the tenseness in his body releasing with his exhale. He would sleep well tonight. If all went as planned, he and Owori would be back in Pyndira in no time. “Tell me, how did you manage to capture Kojo?”
Suun smiled. “I have nice legs too.”
Sli vaulted into the sky, the remainder of her story unheard. He flapped his powerful wings until the palace below was but a speck. There were air currents aplenty tonight, and Sli found one and glided south. The city of Hiru passed below them, the lights but tiny dots. From here it looked beautiful, peaceful. Once past the city, the lights vanished. There were fires from farms and people camping in the wilderness that broke up the inky darkness. The moons reflected off the river, the only hint of anything below them, and Feln moved and wiggled to keep himself awake. They would be in Hou in two days and from what Suun told him many days ago, Kojo’s army had halted their slow advance south when their illustrious leader disappeared.
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Hiru watched them depart from his suite. He was seething, angry beyond angry, and embarrassed that Safun girl slaughtered his guards and his Fury with cruel efficiency. It played over in his mind, and he was thankful he hadn’t reacted and tried to take on the intruders. He would be dead, he knew it. Down the hall he watched Iristi go, his wife-to-be, and he imagined she would make up a reasonable story to placate Feln and end up in the best position possible. She always did. He was happy to have her, not only for her resourceful mind, but for the rest of her as well. He wasn’t a fool. Neither was she. That’s what they loved about each other.
The thought of raising the alarm and going after them lasted but for a few moments. He already had taken enough chances with the Emperor nearby, and in retrospect, he should have left Feln alone. With his Fury dead, though, he could shift the blame. Feln would be exonerated, but so would he, and he would continue with his plans. He was going to head downstairs to inform the guards of the situation, and he would have to be creative in order for the blood-covered intruders to depart the castle unharmed. A story would come to mind, and he would have to make up a tale about the battle in his private quarters. Guards were dead, so was his Fury. Hiru bent down and dipped his hands in the cooling blood, then slathered it on to his arms, chest, and pants. A little would go a long way. He took a guard’s blade and he rammed it through the dead Fury, making sure it was bloody, then he held it loosely in his hand.
Down the hallway he saw his best friend, Watahon, approaching. He promised to kill Feln, but obviously failed. Watahon came forward quickly with a wicker basket covered with cloth and a belt hung over his shoulder. The basket was normally used by samurai to transport decapitated heads for delivery to their Most Favored. What was going on? Had Watahon run into Feln? Did he manage to kill him? Where was Iristi? Hiru’s heart fluttered. Could this be true?
Watahon came closer. “What the shades happened here?”
Hiru decided to stick to his story, even with Watahon. “My Fury turned against me. He nearly killed me and Iristi – she fled – I don’t know where she is. Frankly, I think she’s a bit hysterical so who knows what she’ll remember. The guards were no match for him, but I was able to get to him through their valiant sacrifice. I was lucky – unprepared. It won’t happen again.”
“I have his head,” Watahon said. “Guards caught him in the lower levels trying to escape. You know, that old tunnel that went to Chang’s residence, that’s where we found him. Knocked him out cold. When he came to, I finished him.”
This didn’t make any sense to Hiru. Not enough time had passed for Feln to get that far down in the palace. “When did this happen?”
“Half hour ago. We’ve disposed of the body in the furnaces. I know you wanted his head.”
“Show me.”
As the basket hit the floor the cloth covering it came off. Watahon lifted the felt bag, wet with blood, and undid the strings. It was awkward shaking the bag, but he managed to spill the contents into the waiting basket. It plopped and Watahon reached in, removed the hat, and pulled the head up by the hair.
Hiru hissed. “You’ve killed Kojo!”
“Impossible! It was Feln!” Watahon twisted the gruesome head around. Kojo’s mouth was open, his light blue eyes still eerie to gaze upon. “I don’t understand. I have his belt.”
The blade clattered against the wall but didn’t break as Hiru threw it. He spouted curses and grabbed the belt with the golden dragons. It had to be a fake. He threw the belt against the wall too. Now things were worse. Kojo was a key ally and boldly broke all the rules to shake up the Emesian regime. It was a delicate dance. Once he became Most Favored of Emesia, he was going to drive Kojo out of his lands, teaching Hou a lesson or two during the conflict. Nothing like winning a war could give a leader more immediate respect. After the crushing defeat, Kojo would flee to Furawa. The he was to assist Kojo in removing the Most Favored of Furawa from power, and then Kojo would become the Most Favored. They would become allies and eventually challenge the Emperor if Hikimi supported them. But with Kojo gone, there would be no staged battle and feigned defeat, no chance to put him in power. Hiru grumbled. He would have to drive Furawa out of Emesia for real, and there was no guarantee an alliance with Furawa would be sustainable without Kojo. And the price he would have to pay for the unbound Fury and the horse demon was still unknown. He dreaded to think what the secretive man would ask for in return. A day would come when he would have to return the favor.
“Get him out of here. Make sure it’s never found.”
Chapter 10 - Malurrion
Stiff and sore from the Fury’s attack and traveling by dragon, Feln was ready to spend time walking. He was healing, not realizing the amount of damage hitting the wall did to his back. It was yellow and black with bruises, but on the mend faster because of his Most Favored belt. Sli departed, the old dragon still puzzled by Feln’s recount of the events. The dragon couldn’t understand Iristi. Feln claimed he didn’t understand her either, however, at this point he didn’t care. He needed to move on. On the outskirts of Hou, the sun was setting in the west and casting long shadows. Along the way he stopped by an orchard and purchased fruit to be delivered to Rayu, the farmer gracious for Feln’s honesty about having taken apples months ago. Things seemed to be going right, and soon he would be back in Borgard. Owori awaited him in Sabrin. It made his spirits soar.
The streets of Hou were active in the evening, and with the last remaining rays of sunlight, the children played and people hurried to the closing markets for last minute purchases. By the time he arrived at the market, it was all but empty, and the street lanterns were being lit. Feln took his time, strolling toward the administrative center of Hou. The old building was ahead, looking the same as he remembered. He wondered what Rayu’s reaction would be to the note he was going to leave.
Cooking was going on at nearby establishments, and Feln’s stomach reminded him to find food. The past many days he had survived on rations and honey fish cakes, hardly a filling diet. He could smell vegetables, soup, and m
eat, perhaps it was venison or elk. Feln went up the steps at the administrative center, they creaked under his feet, and at the door he paused for a moment. Lingering, he wondered if he should just tack it up and leave the note.
The door opened. A worker greeted him with a bow. “Are you here for the meeting?”
Feln shook his head. “No.” He took out the note and handed it to the short squat woman. “This for Rayu only.”
“Who is it from?”
“Tell him it’s about Iristi.”
“Our mistress? You have news of her?”
“I must go,” Feln said quickly, seeing that the woman was going to invite him inside. Although it would be enjoyable to have a good meal, he thought better of it. The note would have to be enough as he needed to get back to Malurrion and Owori.
“Of course. May I tell him your name?”
“My name is Feln-en-Xialao-Narneth, Most Favored of Safun.”
The woman’s eyes drew open and words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t get the words out.
“I must go.” With that Feln departed, strolling down the steps and across the grounds, taking the shortest route to the nearby street. A short fence, more decorative than functional, stood between him and the avenue still filled with people. He headed toward the town square, his thoughts on getting back. More than two months had passed, it seemed like it was longer than that, and Feln could see the repairs on the buildings were complete from the damage done by the horse demon.
The center square was ahead of him and his nerves were getting the better of him. What if it didn’t work? Feln adjusted his pack. He had oversupplied himself on purpose as an experiment. He wondered, how much extra weight could he carry back and forth between Pyndira and Malurrion? According to Suun, many Favored Ones tried to bring a companion with them to Malurrion, but none succeeded. The magic wasn’t strong enough. What he hoped was the Most Favored belt had stronger magic, thus he would be able to take Owori with him when he returned. If he couldn’t, she would have to use the Favored One belt Suun gave him.
Feln scratched his last note to Suun and the other teams, letting them know he would return as soon as he could and they were to stay put until he had more orders for them. Suun, now that two days had passed, backed off her initial acceptance of being his bodyguard. She was arguing that she belonged with her team as it was more beneficial to the family for her to remain where she was. Feln disagreed with her, grew tired of the written discussion, and told her that nothing was going to change his mind and for her to meet him in Hou for the trip back to Safun as his bodyguard. Reluctantly she agreed.
He stopped at a merchant who was still cleaning up his shop, negotiated with him for a moment, and bought an oversized basket of apples, bunches of grapes, three large green melons the hawker called watermelons. He had never seen fruit so big. The basket was large enough that he had to carry it with two hands, so Feln lugged it into the square where he had arrived from Borgard. He didn’t know if he had to be in the exact spot or just in proximity. Not wanting to take any chances, Feln picked the exact spot. There were people roaming around still, but it was getting darker and the lanterns weren’t lit yet. Feln didn’t delay. He set the heavy fruit on the ground and made sure his legs were touching it, then he began to make the hand movements. He pictured Borgard castle in his mind, thinking of the gates outside of the castle instead, testing the range of his connection. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to go back into the storage room he had transported from. The magic tingled and he was swept away, fruit and all, and when he arrived outside of the castle, he was relieved to see the basket at his feet. On his person he had about Owori’s weight, so he was sure he could take her with him. His spirits soared again. Now all he had to do was make it to Sabrin, find Owori, and take her to Pyndira.
Chapter 11 - Search
The sights, smells, and feeling of Malurrion were distinctly different from Pyndira. It seemed as if Malurrion was more ancient than Pyndira, the life here spent and on the decline. Pyndira felt young and vibrant, chaotic and dangerous. As he walked, he realized how sparse, comparatively, that Malurrion was. In walking from Hou to Hiru, he experienced deep forests, trees with trunks as wide as a horse, rivers fresh and clean, fields brimming with crops, cities bustling with commerce, majestic mountains, and mysterious creatures like the hill man. Here, the river along the road was down a dozen or more feet. He could see marks from previous years of drought, further evidence of the continued decline. The water level was low and the banks choked with weeds. The forest was lackluster, sparse if not sickly looking. Acres and acres had been logged, the silty runoff staining the sides of the river. There were few animals. He wondered, was Malurrion changing for the worse? Was that what he saw?
He was nearly to Sabrin and he figured only two more days he would be there. He was excited to see Owori. He kept picturing her expression when they would see each other. It filled him with happiness. The road he was taking was well-traveled and he greeted other monks as they made their way between the different monasteries. He found out more about the Accord of the Hand defeating Borgard, learning that the invading force surrendered partway into the attack when Jakks was taken. The city escaped the full brunt of the invasion, but it wasn't without casualties. On the outskirts of the city, he could see shanties and groups of poor people, many downtrodden and begging for help. His fellow monks were there attending to them. Feln stopped and gave away the rest of his portable food to a destitute family, and it made him feel better when he saw how thankful they were. The Borgard invasion, apparently, displaced many people and they were still recovering, rebuilding the outskirts of the city affected by the short-lived invasion.
The city of Sabrin was built around a small lake, and over time the lake’s shore had been covered by structures, docks, jetties, and walkways. The plentiful fish had disappeared despite the monastery’s efforts to bring back the aquatic population – select fishermen were still allowed to fish, but limited on the amount they could catch. They had overfished and had not thought of the future, now they were reliant on other sources for meat. Fish came from the distant coast, but there was no way to get it this far without it spoiling. Much of it was smoked or cured, cooked and put with other foods that would preserve it. He wondered if anyone would be able to make the honey-fish cakes that Oka sold him. He would have to ask.
The buildings in Sabrin ranged from massive wood structures to stout stone structures and everything in between. There were churches spread about where the Spirit Ones did their work, helping the needy and guiding those who were lost. Feln thought of Taawn, the man who saved him so many years ago, and it made him sad to think he was dead. Jakks Borgard killed him, slaughtered all the Spirit Ones in fact. He was glad the Accord of the Hand prevailed, and he wondered what happened to Velinole, Makison, and Jakks. He figured Velinole was dead, Jakks in a prison cell, and Makison nervously managing a throne controlled by the Accord of the Hand.
Deeper into the city he strode, his eyes upon the monastery sitting on the flat, squat hill. It was a patchwork of construction, having been built and rebuilt several times. Feln recalled wars, fires, and the like had scarred the stone and had disfigured the oldest parts of the monastery. It looked intimidating just the same, with high walls and domed structures that were loftier than any other buildings in the city. The extensive grounds were ringed by a stout stone wall, and along with jagged natural rock features, it was impenetrable, or it was thought to be.
He announced himself at the gate and was allowed through, and he would have to talk to minor Accord of the Hand officials before he could get farther into the monastery to see Owori. Formality. The grounds were manicured gardens, trees, bushes, and shrubs. Everything was in full flower this time of year. It was magnificent, established and lush, almost to the point of being overgrown. Numerous monks and gardeners maintained it all. The gardens reminded him of Chang’s manor in Hiru, and the red flowers of his own manor in Daiwer-dar. There were stables, a gran
ary, workshops, and several acres of open areas to assemble monks or the Grand Master’s army. The monastery, truth be known, was a small city within the larger city. Feln guessed the monastery could stand on its own for a long time if threatened. When the Borgards invaded, the city, not the monastery, took the brunt of the damage. The monastery looked unaffected by the whole ordeal.
Inside the monastery he was allowed to proceed, those that knew of him had questions of where he had been – they thought him dead. He assured them he was alive, just missing because of the war, and only recently had the opportunity to return to the Accord of the Hand. There were still unanswered questions, but he deflected them and didn’t elaborate on how he spent his time while missing. He inquired about Owori, and he was concerned by the looks he received. Not until he spoke with one of the Dragonmasters did he realize that Owori never made it to Sabrin, and he also learned she was cast out of Waskhal for cheating. That didn’t sound like Owori, not at all. She loved the Accord of the Hand as much as he did. What did she do to get expelled? No one knew of her whereabouts and the administrators were not going to give him time with the Grand Master, Montishari Gatôn. Feln waited for hours, and when nothing happened, he went to the common parts of the monastery and trained. It took his mind off his current quandary and gave him time to think on it.
There wasn’t a firm conclusion he reached while pondering the situation. It didn’t make sense that Owori would cheat and risk being expelled from Waskhal. She didn’t need to cheat to become one of the Dragonmasters, so there had to be more to it. Soon, he hoped to have an audience with the Grand Master. Answers would be forthcoming. After a hot meal with the monks in the eating hall, he returned to the administrative center, noting the bright lanterns. The grounds around the building were blazing away with light. There were guards who stopped him, and he told them his business and was escorted inside. Those who had turned him away earlier in the day were winding down for the evening, and apparently weren't in a better mood. He lobbied again to see the Grand Master, but to no avail. He was told to come back tomorrow and perhaps there would be an open slot.
