Call Your Steel

by G. D. Penman

  The crowd fell silent after the scream of metal. On the back-swing he struck the inside of the giant's knee. It toppled to the ground with a clatter.

  Kaius reformed the two weapons into one great sword. Then he drove it point down into the centre of the fallen titan's chest. Blood burst up out of the hole in the armour, staining his sword, warming his hands, and spattering over his boots.

  The armour melted away revealing a small woman of no more than fifteen years at the heart of the false body. She was gasping and reaching a hand up to the empty sky, eyes wide, blood running down her cheeks.

  The triumphant grin vanished from Kaius face. When he released his steel his face was back in its usual placid mask, he bowed politely to the crowds then went back down the stairs to his waiting room.

  The rest of the day was occupied with the Trials of Bone. All of the city's students competed to be Chosen by Valerius. In the brothels around about a reduced rate was on offer as the courtesans tried to perfect their own arts in the unofficial Trials of Flesh.

  Several of the city's noble men and women took time out of their busy schedules of languorous parties to attend some of the more upmarket establishments in vain attempts to improve upon their own skills. Some were judged to be at least the equals of the professionals.

  In the arena, twelve new Chosen were selected from the line-up. They were the only ones still standing after the relentless brutality of the Trial of Bone. Negrath’s servants had swollen by almost a quarter of their numbers. The finale of the event that had so thoroughly captivated the minds of the entire city would happen at cold-fall. Negrath’s champion and Walpurgan’s would battle in the Trial of Steel to prove their supremacy. Another Chosen would die for the favour of the commoners, though not one of them seemed to be aware of the event’s purpose.

  ***

  Lucia sat as still as a stone on her bench, though she was jostled by the constant comings and goings of a whole city's people. She watched as the net of power knitted into the flesh of the new Chosen, she saw the new threads stretching down into the packed sand. She saw the broad, pulsing cord of power travelling from the pale robed man to the same subterranean source. He was incandescent with all of the cords woven into him, bound so close to the source of his power that he was practically becoming it. He had more of that vital energy bound inside him than Lucia had ever held within herself.

  Reduced as she was now, he was like a beacon of light in a dead world. She briefly recognised Kaius early in the day after his triumph over the huge man and foolishly called out his name, though it was luckily lost in the tidal screams from all around her.

  He had disappeared soon after and though she strained her new eyes to take in every detail of every face she did not see him again for the rest of the event. It was only as the stadium grew more and more densely populated, with nearly every person in the city trying to force entry that she realised he would fight again, and soon.

  The pale man stood once again at the centre of the arena, dazzling in the directed galvanic lights. He held up his arms and the city fell silent. Some of the cords of power bound around him lit up and he rose from the ground on a round platform of steel, balanced on a pin-like post until he was hanging level to the middle rows of seating. He lowered his arms and spoke with a sonorous voice, “Walpurgan herself has sent us a message.”

  The crowd burst out into murmurs. The idea of one of the Eaters, walking amongst their people, speaking and writing, was all so alien to the people of the southern lands that the idea was almost blasphemous.

  Valerius raised a hand and they all fell silent, “She says to us that when her champion defeats our own she will be Marked by Walpurgan. She will be ascended. Let it never be said that our master lacks the generosity of his sister. Negrath spoke to me as I watched the trials this day. His voice echoed in my mind. And the voice said to me, ‘when our champion slays the feeble offerings of Walpurgan I will mark him before the heat can rise again.’”

  His voice had gained in volume and intensity as he made his declaration, practically shouting by the end of it. The crowd was on its feet, roaring.

  Lucia smiled bitterly. At least Kaius would have plenty of people cheering him on as he murdered someone else for their amusement.

  ***

  Kaius walked up the stairs and this time he heard the crowd roar in approval. He saw them all in the blazing galvanic lights and up in amongst them he picked out Valerius' face, smiling down at him.

  He called his steel as he walked across the rust coloured sands, armour and sword formed around him. He took his stance and faced the Chosen of Walpurgan, the visor of his armour hiding his wild grin.

  Over the screams he heard the thumping of his heart and his own breathing echoing. A comfort now rather than a distraction. After all, he had almost lost that breath earlier.

  The Chosen of Walpurgan were always women and this one stood almost a head shorter than him. Her armour was infinitely more complex than Kaius' own, the faceplate was shaped like the face of a wolf. Further up, the helm transformed into a tangle of steel antlers. There were complex designs worked all over the steel itself and it seemed to be composed of far more plates than were necessary. Each scale was worked with a design of vines around the outer edges. She had a pair of straight daggers in a reverse grip and she crouched down in a wrestler's Form of Bone.

  Malius’ advice was holding true in that regard at least. In the dense forests and the warrens of tunnels that the people of Walpurgan called home, the daggers were the most sensible choice, but out here in the open his weapon's reach would easily outweigh the benefits of their speed. She gave a mocking bow to him and waited for him to approach.

  A cry reverberated over the city, driving the screaming crowds to silence, an owl's shriek that made the first few rows cover their ears. The individual plates of Kaius armour chattered together. The sound stayed within the armour, crushing his head like a vice.

  He felt his skin quiver and in that long moment of pain and confusion she was out of his line of sight. Her dagger pricked the skin above his kidney before he could move. He rolled away from the other Chosen but she stayed close, pressing her advantage with a speed that seemed impossible without calling upon her Eater’s, and a ruthless efficiency.

  She was inside his guard and it was only frantic movements that kept him from the dagger's thrusts. She kicked out twice, and hooked his feet back in closer when he tried to stagger away.

  He abandoned his sword, seeing its futility and letting it fall to the ground as he danced back. It turned liquid as it hit the sand and began its slow creep back towards him. He brought his hands down to catch her wrists but he was always a moment too late and he narrowly avoided losing the tips of his fingers twice before he gave in, clenched his fists and tried to knock the knives far enough out from her tight routine to allow for some sort of response.

  She was having none of it. If anything, her blows came faster, gashing along the inside of Kaius' arm on one side and a moment later slashing a line across the front of his chest.

  It should have burned each time. The pain should have been sharp and every movement should have made it sharper but instead he felt numb. The cuts, shallow as they were, felt cold. The cold was spreading. Kaius moved slower now. Even if he could call speed he would barely have kept ahead of the knife darting in at him again and again. His thoughts slowed and the arena grew grey in his sight.

  The knives hit him with a rough tug at his skin but there was no pain, there was no world outside of his breathing and the forms that he still moved through faster than thought.

  A knife slashed his cheek to the bone and in his distant state the pain reached him. Still clad in full, useless, armour and unthinking from the poison he called his steel. The puddle of quicksilver still trickling across the sand in pursuit of its master leapt like an arrow to his hand as he toppled backwards to avoid the last slash at his throat.

  He hit the ground with a clatter of steel and waited patiently, list
ening to his heart's slow beat, for the final blow to be struck.

  The Chosen of Walpurgan had fallen to her knees a few feet away. Blood flowed hot and rich down the details of her armour, catching in every crevasse on its slow descent. Where the steel of his sword, had passed through her there was a small hole, only as wide as two fingers.

  It had punched directly through her sternum. Kaius lay on his back looking up at the blackness above, all sign of stars stolen by the encircling lights.

  With the Trials finally over the restrictions were released. He called strength and it was enough for him to rise up, first to sitting, then to one knee and finally with one last burst to his feet. The poison chilled him to the bones but he lived.

  The crowd was roaring and cheering, then just as suddenly the sound disappeared into another brain rattling shriek. Kaius fell to his knees again, facing the wrinkled corpse of his opponent and the owl swooping down to protect her body.

  ***

  In the stands, still propped up by the wailing crowd, Lucia watched the events unfolding. She saw the thick cord of power tangled in the owl's head, stretching off over the horizon. She saw the complex tangles surrounding the Beloved light up, dazzling bright compared to the dull glow of Kaius.

  He moved between the owl and his servant in one graceful fluid motion. Lucia saw the patterns crackle to life within his robes before a dazzling blast of lightning lanced from the palm of his hand towards the owl, charring its feathers and drawing out another shriek. The crowd was moving now, running for the exits or pressing forward for a better view. The bird raked its talons through the air scarce inches from the defiant man as he gathered his power again, the beating of its great wings sent great circles of sand out around them and made the dead woman's body twitch on the ground with each sweep.

  The screaming and lightning dragged on, moment after moment. Lucia never doubted that the beast would be defeated. If the man would just strike at the cord piercing its skull it would all be over. The owl, beneath the crushing weight of some greater mind, was terrified of this place, it wanted to be away in the sky. Lucia raised a shaking hand as the crowd pressed and swelled around her, she pinched two of her fingers together around the cord and tugged gently.

  The thread of power snapped loose. It lashed around the arena then recoiled over the horizon. The end looked charred. The owl rose up only for another bolt of lightning to burst through its chest. It fell to the ground, the round golden eyes empty.

  Valerius blasted it away with the flick of his wrist then turned to lift Kaius back to his feet. His voice resonated across the city, it swept out over the plains and farmland outside and he cried out,

  “Your victor!” then he half dragged, half carried Kaius out of the arena with an arm gripped tight around his shoulders.

  The city was silent.

  Chapter 8- The Mark

  Kaius woke up to a stinging sensation just below his eye. His hand snapped up to grasp whatever creature had wandered onto his face while he was resting and instead found soft skin and softer silk in his grasp. A trickle of water fell from the cloth in Valerius hand and ran down over Kaius lips, he tasted an odd blend of herbs in the mixture.

  He looked up to the older man with his breath catching in surprise at the warmth in the Beloved's expression. Valerius spoke softly, “Do not worry, the scars will not last many years. You will be beautiful again in no time at all.”

  Kaius knew that he should have some response to this but instead he only felt a great discomfort. He was lying on the Beloved's bed, stripped of his clothes and bound with bandages in many places, predominantly his arms. He took it all in and risked a smile to Valerius, and a small, “Thank you.”

  Valerius rolled his eyes dramatically and tutted, “Well I could hardly let my champion lie rotting in the streets now could I?”

  Kaius face returned to its neutral position and he said, “It would have been disrespectful for me to rest in a gutter while my Beloved still works tirelessly.”

  Valerius raised an eyebrow, “Indeed. Of course I am working tirelessly now and there you lie.”

  Kaius began to pull himself up onto his tightly bound elbows only for Valerius to push him flat on the bed with a smirk, “I command you to rest here until the morning. Until heat-rise. Then you will accompany me about my business until I take you to receive your Mark. Are my orders clear?”

  Kaius lay back gratefully and let his eyes close as he whispered, “Yes my beloved.”

  If Valerius noted the change in tone he did not acknowledge it as he tended to the remaining scratches and Kaius slept easily.

  ***

  Lucia had found a silver piece underneath the stands, fallen from some merchant's pocket. She brushed past the vendors hawking their overpriced and dubious wares and made her way as far as she could from the arena before giving in and buying a fire blackened mushroom from a small shop.

  She made it around a corner before she started stuffing it into her face. The first bite was delicious but then the next was overpowering. She retched while still trying to force the food into her mouth. She had to regain her strength somehow. She went on retching until she had brought up the entire mushroom and a great deal of bile that burned at her throat.

  Tears ran freely down her face as much from despair as from the pain. She made her way further out of the city proper, into the tents and cobbled together shacks nearest the walls. The odd structures made mostly of outcroppings from the walls. She dragged herself into the gap between two of them, her knees wedged against her chest, and she sobbed herself to sleep.

  ***

  Far to the north where snow swept through during the cold seasons there was a forest of petrified trees. They could have been pillars of stone, but they were still known as a forest by those that lived there beneath their crumbling boughs. Ensnaring them, binding them all together and preventing them from collapsing to the ground as they probably should have centuries before.

  The vines were not natural. This too was known to the people of the forest. When exposed to a fire you could see that they were a green so dark that they were practically black. Of course, you would have to be quick about it. The vines did not tolerate fire in their presence for long and the traveller who offended them could very easily find themselves dragged down into the roots to feed the forest.

  All of these things could still be explained by nature, as animals could move, kill and feed so too could plants, albeit slower. The reason that the Strangled Forest was disturbing was far more subtle. It could pass a traveller by for days without them realising what was setting their nerves on edge. Air swept in and out amidst the trees in a constant gentle breeze and the thick pods on the vines would pulse in time to that coming and going.

  The forest was breathing. Rhythmically sucking in all the poisons in the winds and exhaling clean air. It was no wonder the people of these lands lived under the ground in their tunnels rather than suffer to feel that breath tickling over their skin each day.

  Deep beneath the Strangled Forest on an old throne of what was once brass and was now verdigris, wrapped and bound down by thick vines of ivy, sat Walpurgan. While the others worked through their agents, she alone still spoke to her Chosen and her chattel. She looked for the most part like a woman, though a woman of unusual height. Her skin was grey, tinted in places with patches of white like a sickened elm.

  She spoke in a rattle but there were always Chosen close by, using the pinprick of light from their lanterns to illuminate the bark and charcoal that they used to scribble down her every utterance. Her constant litany halted when the owl died, halfway across the world. She shrieked and stood, tearing without thought through the cocoon of ivy and bending the old metal of her chair as she rose up.

  The rotten tatters of her garb fell away and with a clawed hand she took hold of the wrist of the nearest Chosen who froze in place and watched Walpurgan with terror in her eyes. The hag hissed and grasped at her head with her free hand then snarled out, “Send word to Oc
hress and Vulkas. We are betrayed. Negrath has eaten of the Burning One, he turns that power against us even now.”

  The bald women surrounding her frantically scribbled this down and one started to run for the door and the messenger owls when a root burst down suddenly from the ceiling and snared the woman by her collar. Walpurgan snapped, “No. Wait.”

  The crowded room shuffled in discomfort. Never had they seen their Eater in such disarray. Something of terrible importance was happening before their eyes.

  Walpurgan's lips moved as she flitted through the options then she stopped as still as a statue once more. She released the bruised arm of the girl she had been clinging to, settled back into her seat and resumed her usual position and tone, “Send no word to Ochress or Vulkas, but have letters ready for each of them warning that Negrath is destroyed and his destroyer will soon turn his attentions to them. Then send a note to Negrath. Tell him... Tell him that the one who burned him walks within his city. Send it to that boy of his. See what reply we get. And have the messenger fly the moment the message is handed over. I would not have her tortured for information that she doesn't have. Tell her to circle the city for a few days, stay well clear of Negrath's servants, but watch for the outbreak of chaos.”

  A smile creaked across Walpurgan's face as her orders were carried out. She was living again in interesting times.

  ***

  Static discharged onto Kaius exposed stomach a moment before fingers brushed over it, trailing up across his hairless skin to check the bandage there. The air in Valerius room was dry and hot as usual so Kaius had no way to judge how much time had passed, though the fact he could think clearly again told him the venom had left his system.

  He flinched away from Valerius’ touch, muscles across his torso contracting minutely and tugging on his fresh scars there. He opened his eyes to the brightness of the room. He was lying on silk sheets and he could not shake their clinging feeling. The discomfort ran to the bone. Valerius withdrew as Kaius sat up, fetching a cup of water for the younger man then muttering, “It is time.”