by G. D. Penman
She had always imagined it would be beautiful to see one of the Chosen in their blessed armour but this armour seemed to have been made solely for function. The only thing that could truly be called decorative at all were the skirts of purple cloth hanging around his waist and even they had practically nothing except a thin strip of silver worked down their edges.
His armour shivered and peeled back from his face then poured away out of sight. He crouched down and she saw him clearly for the first time. His brow protruded with no eyebrows over his narrow hooded eyes. His thick jaw set beneath an oval shaped face, as bare as a babe's and honey toned.
His face was an emotionless mask as he asked her, “What happened to you child?”
Her lips cracked as she smiled and said, “Slipped and fell.”
He looked around her little pit, the fountain where she drank, the squalid corner where she squatted to pass the water back out again. He stared up at the broken glass above and took in the gap that he had not made. He pointed, “You fell from up there?”
She craned her neck to see, then nodded. He leaned closer, took her by the shoulders and shook her. She startled back to reality for the first time in many cycles. She was still hot but the shimmering threads all around her had disappeared and she could focus, a wild thought came to her, “Are you here to rescue me?”
He almost smiled, shrugged a shoulder and said, “Why not?”
He hauled her to her feet. Taking in their surroundings, he asked her, “If I throw you up to the hole, will you have the strength to hold yourself on the ledge until I get there?”
She looked down at herself, taking in her emaciated condition for the first time, “Um. Probably not.”
He thought for another long moment looking at the great spikes of glass, bursting up from the sandy ground and hanging at chaotic angles from the thick sheet of glass above. He looked at Lucia then grabbed her by the waist, lifting her up off the ground and holding her there. He hefted her, judging her weight.
She stayed very still but asked him, “What's the plan?”
He grumbled at the interruption but she continued to look at him querulously until he answered her, “If I lift you and jump from one spike to the next before they break we will be able to reach the surface.”
He realised that he was still holding her up and set her back on her feet, “But...” she prompted.
“The glass may be sharp, without my armour it may cut my feet too badly for us to continue, then we would fall.”
“And you can't wear your armour because...”
“I cannot call my armour because it throws up sparks when I am moving quickly and there are gasses in the air that may ignite. Which would most likely kill you.”
She glanced around at the air as if she could see these burning gasses. “I haven't seen anything to make me think that there are any gasses.”
He looked her up and down, “I have seen flames appearing in the air. What you might call marsh lights.”
She looked at him for a long moment, then asked, “You saw them too?”
He cocked his head to the side, “Yes.”
She started breathing faster, the world spun around her as she tried to decipher the meaning of this but before she could say anything he stepped forward and said, “Hold your breath and close your eyes. It will be easier.”
Before she could think, he called steel, strength and speed once again, he seized her beneath the arms and he launched her towards the hole in the ceiling. Her eyes were still wide open and she screamed as she flew through the air.
Down in the dark she saw a blur as he moved, leaping from one shattering piece of glass to the next as he sped towards her and caught her around the waist. They soared up towards the hole in the ceiling and reached the apex of their leap just above the ash covered surface.
He landed gracefully on his feet while she dangled limply under his arm like a sack of root vegetables. He dropped her onto the surface of the glass with casual indifference.
He looked down on her with disdain. “Will you survive from this point on or do I need to waste more time on you?”
She laughed out loud and rolled onto her back to look up at the black faceless expanse of the moon overhead, the great round hole in the stars. “I will be fine now. Thanks. My hero.”
He turned to walk away from her, looking back towards the Ashen Dales, hoping to catch a glimpse of Metharia. She rolled over and got up onto her knees before calling out to him, “Actually. Which way is the nearest city?”
He pointed towards the distant glow on the horizon, “The Ivory City lies ten cycles of walking in that direction. If you leave today you should miss the worst of the foot traffic surrounding the Trials,” he paused, “Do you require food?”
She staggered to her feet, shaking her head, “Not very hungry. Thanks anyway. Is there a village any closer?”
It was his turn to shake his helm from side to side, “There was one, just on the border. But it has been destroyed. If you want to head further onto the Glasslands there will be mining camps.”
She snorted, “I think I have had enough of the Glasslands for now.”
Inside his helmet Kaius was smiling despite himself. He walked back to Lucia, “You are some sort of performer. Would you like to trade a song for my assistance?”
She pulled herself up to her full height and set her shoulders, looking up into the slit of the pointed visor, “I am a trained troubadour with a writ of free travel from the Beloved of all four Eaters. I have performed in the courts of the greatest houses in this land. You think I am going to sing for you just because you ask?”
He remained immobile, “Was that a yes or a no?”
She smiled again, “You don't strike me as a supporter of the arts.”
His reply was still cold, “I have never yet had the opportunity.”
In all his time out in the dark Kaius had never had cause to make a fire so it was with some degree of fascination that he watched Lucia building one out of the pieces of half charred wood he had hauled out of the ruined village.
When she demanded kindling he found a bisected body and pulled the woolly underclothes from under the boiled leather clothing. She saw what he handed to her and he watched as she wilfully ignored what it was while building the fire.
As she put the pieces of the fire into a cone she started to see the threads of light again and she recognised that same duller shape from before, growing brighter and brighter as she put the pieces into place until the pattern of fire had almost formed entirely of its own accord.
When Kaius looked away she applied a touch of concentration and the little bonfire sprung to life. Exhaustion washed over her again. She was coming to realise that each time she did this she lost some small part of herself and it would not return without some outside assistance.
When she glanced back Kaius was watching her intently, he had not seen or she was sure he would have reacted. He brushed past and sat on a half buried log opposite her.
He gestured casually with a steel clad hand, “You can sing now.”
She tutted, loudly, “Lets try that again shall we?”
She stood up and gave a theatrical bow, “My name is Lucia and I shall be your entertainment. What is your name brave hero? That I might remember you in song.”
He smirked, the first time she had seen his face move, “I am Kaius, Chosen of Negrath. I saved you from certain death beneath the surface of the earth. Sing now.”
She scowled at him, “You are being rude.”
He glowered back, “You are being disobedient.”
She set her jaw and said, “A song isn't something you can demand. It is a gift that the singer gives you.”
He stared at her blankly. She rolled her eyes and said, “Eaters save us. If you want me to sing you need to be nice.”
He continued to stare at her, “Was saving your life at risk to my own considered to be nice?”
She sighed and said, “Yes. That was nice. Thank you Kaius.”<
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He continued looking at her expectantly so she cleared her throat stood staring into the fire and sang Four Kings as best she could without accompaniment. When it came to the end the Four Kings went their separate ways to rule their separate kingdoms, their friendship over forever. He held up a hand, like a child in a classroom, when she acknowledged him. He asked, “Was that song about the Eaters?”
She was taken aback, “I suppose it must be.”
He continued looking at her, confused, “If you do not know the meaning of the songs, why do you sing them?”
She was struck by the question and sat down to think it over. “Most of the songs are so old I don't even think about what they mean. I know which songs are happy, which songs are sad. But I don't always think about the context. We have sung these songs for hundreds of years, I guess that they meant different things to the people that sang them back then.”
He stared at her with some intensity now. “The words still mean the same things. Sing another.”
He gestured for her to stand and she did, head still buzzing with the idea of meanings that never change. She thought of the coiled lights and the words, and the more that she examined them the more similarities she saw. To cover her confusion she began to sing Great Dragons Dance.
It was only when she came to the first chorus that it hit her like a cold weight dropping into her stomach that she was singing this blasphemous song to one of the Chosen.
She faltered for a moment then sang on proudly. If she was going to die after everything else she had just been through she was at least going to finish.
Her song came to its end and she stood silently with her eyes closed. Her lips trembled as she waited for the bite of steel but there was no way that she was going to show fear now. Time stretched out.
She cracked open an eye and saw Kaius still sitting across from her. There were beads of moisture on his cheeks that she would have called tears if the face beneath betrayed any emotion.
He swallowed hard, then said, “I am not familiar with some of the words that you used in that song.”
She started shaking with relief, her voice quavering as she spoke, “Yeah. There are some old words mixed in to the older songs to make sure the rhymes still work. What didn't you understand?”
He cocked his head to the side for a moment then carefully said, “Betrayed.”
Her mind raced as she tried to answer truthfully without compounding her blasphemy, “It means that someone you trusted has turned against you.”
He stood utterly still as she spoke, “A word for when it is unexpected. I understand. And what is the meaning of valour?”
She thought back through the song, “I didn't sing the word valour.”
He wiped his cheek and looked at the liquid there in confusion, “You sang it earlier, when we first met you were singing about a Chosen protecting a village.”
Her jumbled memories were not availing her so she mentally ran through her repertoire of songs and said, “Were there demons? The Ballad of Kurgan Hall?”
He nodded and she pursed her lips, “Good memory. One word in a song you only heard once.”“We are Chosen for our minds.”
She looked at him, really looked at him properly, on his bare arms and beneath the tight section of his robes she could make out clearly defined muscles, but he was smaller than many farmers that she had seen and much smaller than most smiths and miners. He was strong enough to throw her around with ease and jump dozens of times his own height but it wasn't under his own power.
She supposed that it made sense to choose a man for his mind if everything else could be added artificially. She said, “Valour means... I don't know. It means behaving in a heroic way? Doing the right thing even though it is difficult. Maybe it means...”
Kaius was on his feet and moving towards her with armour flowing over him and a sword extending from his hand. She sighed and bowed her head. Blasphemy was punishable by death of course. But it seemed like such a waste to have escape from the certainty of the pit only to face it again now. Lucia was genuinely startled at the sound of clashing steel behind her. She stumbled away and a shower of sparks hit her.
Kaius was in motion, driving their attackers twin swords up then hammering them down towards the pointed helm facing up at him. Over the clattering of steel he heard shouting. A boot caught him on the knee, driving him back a step. He drove forward again with a powerful thrust and gouged along the steel covering his attacker’s ribs.
The would be assassin released steel and he saw Metharia's furious face scowling out at him as she staggered back and landed on her backside. He had called strength without even thinking, it was a dangerous habit to develop.
She cursed at him, “What are you doing back here you fool? I thought you were rutting ghuls picking over the useless drizzle that used to live here.”
She scrambled to her feet and kicked him again. There was a quiet clunk when it connected with his midsection. She yelled at him, “What are you doing out here Kaius! You are meant to be drinking and whoring your last days away in the city. Not drinking and whoring around my protectorate.”
Kaius released steel and gave Metharia a half bow, “I have orders for you. You are to accompany me to the border of Vulkas' lands and escort me and their Chosen back to the city for the Trials.”
She deflated a little and in a flat monotone said, “As the Beloved commands.”
She pointed past him to where Lucia had turned away and was staring up into the sky. “What are you doing with her? Finally work out what that thing between your legs is for?”
His face was impassive once again, “She is just a traveller. I was seeking information. I was looking for you in fact.”
He glanced back at Lucia where she had flung herself face-down in the ash and said nothing. He walked away with Metharia without a backwards glance.
They called steel and speed together and disappeared from sight. Lucia uncurled after silence had fallen, propped herself up by the weak warmth of the fire and tried to decipher the tangled bands of power that had been flowing across from the distant horizon. She sat there by the dying embers until heat rise.
Chapter 6 – The Titan in Steel
Now that he knew the relationship, Kaius could not help but see Valerius in Metharia's face, without the long hair her features seemed harsher and without the added centuries of practised grace her movements were rougher, although some of that may have been residual anger from the fight and what she considered a surprising defeat.
They sped all through the cold cycle across the diameter of the broad circle of the Glasslands. Coming to a halt they continued to slide until they ploughed into the ash-banks built up at the far side. Technically encroaching on Vulkas' lands.
They didn't scamper back onto their own land but they didn't wait around any longer than necessary to antagonise anyone. They released steel at nearly the same time and with an irritated grunt Metharia sat down on the cold glass. She scowled up at Kaius until he followed her lead and sat cross-legged, albeit with more grace. He was positioned himself to overlook as much of the border as possible. She stared at him and eventually said, “I guess you were picked for the Trials then?”
He nodded, eyes still on the horizon, “I have been granted the honour of representing Negrath in the Trial of Steel.”
She continued to glower at him. “Why you? My steel was always better. You were the one obsessed with the Forms of Bone.”
He shrugged, “I understand that it is a political decision rather than one of merit.”
She fell silent for a few long moments then spat, “I could take you, you know. If you didn't spring up out of nowhere. If I knew I was going to be fighting you. I could take you.”
He glanced at her sidelong, “If only real life afforded us such equal chances as imaginary scenarios.”
Her face crumpled with anger and she looked completely unlike her serene grandfather, “Do you want to try me? I will cut you to pieces.”
He l
ooked away from her again with an enforced calm and said, “But then Negrath will have no champion in the Trial of Steel and dishonour would be brought to his name. To satisfy your anger you would do this?”
She snarled, “I could be his champion.”
Some heat crept into Kaius voice as he said, “But you were not chosen,” he turned to stare at her with wide eyes, “You were not chosen and I was. Do you think that this was an accident?”
She called steel and speed and was roaring across the shining plane of glass before he finished his sentence, she skidded to a halt with her blades crossed under his chin. He looked at her with disdain and said, “Stop being ridiculous.”
Enveloped in steel he could not see her arms straining as she tried to contain herself. She stepped back from him and released her steel. Her cheeks reddened and her hands coiled into shaking fists.
He disregarded her completely and turned back to look at the great mounds of ash on Vulkas side of the Glasslands. He idly wondered what name they gave their version of what he still considered to be his lands.
Time passed. Perhaps an hour before he turned to look at Metharia again. She was still glowering at him with murder in her eyes. He sighed and rose, giving her a formal bow and saying, “Call your steel. Blunted, if you please. I do not wish for either of us to be harmed over such a trifling matter.”
Excitement flashed over her face as she rolled to her feet, he held up a hand to halt her, “If Vulkas' Chosen arrive we must end this. Do you understand?”
She tutted,then shouted, “Come on! Stop talking. Lets do this.”
They called steel and took their stances opposite each other. She called both speed and strength and came at him without hesitation or thought. She flowed through the forms of steel and fluttered into the forms of bone intermittently to take him off guard.
Malius had treated Kaius as an equal, assumed that his mastery of the forms was sufficient and that only superior cunning would win out. Metharia wanted to prove that she was better at a fundamental level, she wanted to prove that her skill alone would prevail. She was faster than him and the pair of swords kept him constantly on the defensive, whenever he was parrying one the other was already spinning around the other side of his defences. He held his ground against her, his feet planted in place.
