The Trophy Chase Saga

by George Bryan Polivka

  “Make your claim,” the leader commanded.

  Talon raised her chin with a look of defiance. “Before I do, Your Worthiness, I would like clarification regarding the laws that govern my claim. If I may.”

  There was some slight shifting in chairs, and the leader glanced at Sool Kron. But now Kron did not take his eyes off Talon.

  “Ask,” the elder allowed.

  “Only the Quarto may grant the Ixthano. Is this correct?”

  “Yes,” the elder answered proudly.

  “And does the Rahk-Taa allow for a mere woman to claim the Ixthano?”

  The elder looked to the Quarto member seated to his left, a bookish, bespectacled man, and nodded at him.

  “Only at the request of her husband,” the other said, as he put his left hand on the ancient, leather-bound volume before him. He was the legal expert in these matters.

  The room filled with whispers. Talon looked at Kron. He shrugged, as if to say he couldn’t have known about this. But behind his eyes was that same gloating victory she had seen at her wedding. She was surrounded by enemies, none of whom expected her to leave this place alive.

  When quiet returned, Talon spoke evenly. “I am a warrior. Are there no exceptions for the Mortach Demal?”

  The younger one gained another slight nod of permission from the elder. “Only on the field of battle,” he said.

  “Single combat, or armies joined in battle?”

  He looked at his fellow members, then shrugged. “Either.”

  She nodded. “Are there no other exceptions?”

  “There are others,” admitted the younger man. “In the case of—”

  The elder cut in. “The Quarto is not here to educate you on the Rahk-Taa. Make your claim, and accept our judgment as you have sworn to do.”

  She looked at Sool Kron. He met her gaze with the merest trace of a raised eyebrow. It was barely a twitch, but it told her he wanted her to know what he had done, and that he had outwitted her. Talon spoke while looking directly at Kron. “Then I will make my claim as having been won in single combat.”

  The whispers returned. Each man in the Quarto nodded, glanced at the others. They were surprised, but not displeased, that she would continue this brazen attempt to take the Hezzan’s kingdom for herself. They had in fact been in touch with Sool Kron, through a sympathetic Hezzan guardsman. All four members understood that by making the claim for the Right of Transfer, Talon would jeopardize herself. First, she would put herself under their jurisdiction; and then she would claim the Hezzan was an Unworthy who had died willingly for his own wife, a mere woman, yet who was somehow more Worthy than he. When this preposterous claim was denied on the basis of her gender, she would be accountable for attempting to steal his lands and titles and thus make herself emperor. These were offenses punishable by death. They would execute that punishment where she stood. Kron would become Hezzan, and the Quarto would lead the Twelve.

  The Quarto was therefore greatly relieved to learn that Talon, while apparently astute enough to have uncovered the gender trap, was prepared to make her situation worse, if possible, and their ruling more just yet. Rather than claim the Second Law, she would claim the First: that the Hezzan was an Unworthy whom she had killed in single combat. This was an offense far greater than plotting to steal his throne. It would be impossible for her to prove he was Unworthy, especially with the countering testimony of Sool Kron. When she failed, she would die. Kron would become Hezzan, and the Quarto would, again, lead the Twelve.

  But as the Quarto’s confidence swelled, Kron’s faltered. He was worried. He believed Talon had courage enough to stand up to anyone, including these four self-inflated ministers of supreme justice. But to claim to have murdered the Hezzan? She was not so stupid. His mind raced; she must have some other design.

  “Make your claim,” the elder repeated.

  Kron opened his mouth to plead for more time, but Talon spoke first. Her voice showed no emotion. “I claim the First Law of Kar Ixthano, for an Unworthy enemy of Rahk, killed by my hand in single combat.”

  Kron closed his eyes. In a flash of realization, he knew. Of course! He had been blind to it. “Your Worthiness, if I may—” he tried.

  “Silence!” the leader roared. “You may not. Woman, state your claim.”

  Talon smiled at the Quarto’s hunger, their greediness for her demise. Then she turned to Kron, savoring the moment. Now she raised her eyebrow almost imperceptibly. Kron gritted his teeth.

  “The enemy of Rahk, the Unworthy I have slain,” she said, turning back to the Quarto, “is the Traitor, Senslar Zendoda.”

  The room erupted. The Quarto looked over at Kron in a single movement, as though their heads were yoked to a swivel. But he smiled. Suddenly, he seemed not at all perturbed; he looked at Talon and nodded, letting her know how impressed he was with her. And he was, in fact, very impressed. He had said he would not underestimate her again, but he had, and for the same reason as before: her sex.

  “What does the Rahk-Taa require from you in judgment?” Talon asked, as soon as it was possible to be heard. “Have I earned the Kar Ixthano for this deed?”

  The Quarto conferred briefly, but the decision was foregone. The story was well-known. She had been celebrated by the Hezzan himself for this act. The Hezzan had many times referred to the slaying as single combat, and he had publicly claimed not to have ordered it done. It was her glory alone. And the Quarto had brought all these witnesses.

  After a moment, the elder spoke. His voice was lower than it had been, but no less gruff. “The Kar Ixthano is granted, in duty to Rahk.”

  The instant the words were out of his mouth, Talon spoke again. “As the owner of the dominion of Senslar Zendoda, including all his rights and privileges as a man of noble birth in Drammun,” she put a slight but noticeable emphasis on the word man, “I now claim the Second Law of Kar Ixthano, pertaining to an Unworthy man who gave his life willingly in exchange for mine, taking arrows meant for me.” She paused. They waited. “I claim the dominion of the Hezzan Shul Dramm.”

  The room roared with shouts and oaths, men crying out for justice, then died down just as quickly as all waited for the judgment of the Quarto. The elder looked shaken; he was unable to speak. Finally, the young man to his right, silent until now, stood. He was agitated. He looked sour and peevish. “And so you claim to be more Worthy than the Hezzan.”

  “I do.”

  “On what basis?”

  “On the basis of the Rahk, as laid forth in the Rahk-Taa.”

  “What right do you have to interpret the Rahk?” the elder steamed.

  “Let her speak,” the peevish one said, quite certain she would hang herself.

  “Please Your Worthiness, I cannot speak with authority on these matters, and have only my perceptions to bring. I require your ruling.” Talon said it calmly, submissively. She nodded at them, and continued. “My belief is that the Hezzan defied the Rahk-Taa by marrying a warrior. He defied it again by decreeing that she should be both warrior and wife. He defied it a third time, and defied all that is Worthy, by elevating his wife above the status of the Council of Twelve. These are the three offenses on which I base my claim.”

  Shocked silence reigned. Her list was appalling. She stated the very accusations that the Quarto had hurled at the Hezzan for weeks now, in the exact language they had used. She was quoting the Quarto.

  The elder now burned with rage. She had trapped them. He glared at Sool Kron. He had done this to them! He spit a molten-hot question at her: “And you dare to accuse the Hezzan of crimes of which you are equally guilty?”

  Talon bowed her head. “I am but a woman. I have obeyed my Hezzan, and my husband, even against my own wishes. If that is a crime, then I am guilty.”

  The silence in the room only deepened. A chair in the gallery creaked. Every man present knew that the Quarto was caught fast in their own beliefs, strung up by their own dogma. They were flies in her web. Without abandoning all pretext of basing
their rulings on the Rahk-Taa, or without reversing their public position entirely, they could not execute any judgment against her. She was a dutiful, obedient wife, precisely what they taught every woman should be. And when she wasn’t, she was destroying the Unworthy, on the basis of the very charges the Quarto had voiced.

  The peevish one, still standing, spoke again. “Can you prove he martyred himself for you? Where are your witnesses?” It was a weak question, and he knew it.

  “I can state that he did so,” Talon answered humbly. “By the rights of Senslar Zendoda, and his nobleman’s title, I need no witnesses. Rather, you must prove—”

  “Do not tell us what we must prove!” The elder banged his fist on the table. “Zendoda was a traitor! You have a traitor’s dominion,” he screamed. Then he leaned in, conferring in harsh whispers with the others. The peevish one leaned down, listened, but kept shaking his head. He waved off the discussion, faced Talon again. “No crimes of an enemy combatant can be transferred in the Ixthano. Zendoda’s dominion, not his crimes, have been transferred to you. However, to claim the Kar Ixthano, the arrows that killed the Hezzan must have been meant for you, and he must have taken them willingly in your place.”

  “Yes, Your Worthiness. He knew my life was in danger, and he swept me aside from where I stood and stepped to the window himself, to be killed in my place.”

  “We must accept your account of his intentions, but—”

  “We must do nothing of the sort!” the elder fairly shouted.

  The peevish one glared at him, then turned back to Talon. “According to the Rahk-Taa, as you have the rights of a nobleman, we must accept your statement of his intentions,” he repeated. “But we will need time to find witnesses who may counter your claim that those arrows were meant for you.”

  The elder still threw off fire, but now he aimed it solely at his fellow council member. “How dare you speak for this Quarto!” Every man in the gallery shifted uncomfortably. The elder glared at each of the three younger members in turn.

  “If I may,” Sool Kron purred. And now he stepped back to stand beside Talon. He stroked his beard. All looked at him, hoping for a solution. This time, they would hear him out. “Please Your Worthinesses. The Council of Twelve, against my will and my best arguments, did seek to kill the woman Talon, with arrows, at her window that night. This was their plot. They admitted such in the presence of Vasla Vor, General Commander of the Hezzan Guard. Without my consent, the other eleven plotted the murder of Talon. It was never their intention to kill the Hezzan. He died saving his wife. These men are, I might add, justly imprisoned now for these Unworthy acts.”

  “Do you swear to this as Chief Minister of State of the Kingdom of Drammun?” asked the peevish one.

  “I do.”

  The elder opened his mouth but found no words.

  The peevish one nodded, looking decidedly less peevish now. “Very well.” He looked at Talon. “Have you stated all your proofs of the Hezzan’s unrighteousness?”

  “There is one more,” Talon answered.

  “State it.”

  What she was about to say had not been part of her plan. Rather, it had come to her as she watched these fools force all of reality through the sieve of their pride-driven belief system. The Hezzan was a good man, a better person than Talon. This was apparent to any who knew them both. Talon had killed in hatred, had despised God and man. But the Hezzan had cared deeply for his nation, his people, and for Talon, and he had seen in her what others had not. He had raised her out of her selfish anger, and given her a more noble view of the world, and of the people in it. And because he had cared for her, he had chosen, in a moment, to risk everything to protect her. It was that simple. But the Quarto did not understand, nor want to understand, the true and powerful motivation for the self-sacrifice at the heart of his actions. So she would force them to address it.

  “He died for me,” she said simply.

  “This is a proof of his Unworthiness?”

  “You must decide, of course. But the Rahk-Taa does not speak to any reason that a Worthy man would ever choose to die in the place of the Unworthy. Therefore if he chose to die for me, he must have known, or believed, that I was Worthy of such a sacrifice.”

  The silence of the room was now the silence of a bent bow. With a single statement she had gone beyond using the words of the Quarto against them. She was using the very heart of the teachings of the Rahk-Taa.

  She was correct, of course. The Three Laws of Kar Ixthano did not account for a good man who would die for someone who was not. Such was absurdity. If the good, the noble, the Worthy were to die for the evil, the ignoble, the Unworthy, how could the Worthy ever rule? If the highest calling was, as taught in the Vast religion, to lay down one’s life for others, regardless of their Worthiness, then the best of all men on earth would always be dead, or dying. And dead men cannot rule. Only the miserable, maddening teachings of the Vast and their Jesus dared claim honor in such foolishness.

  But Talon now understood the nature of God’s power—that it came in through a window, or a back door, and rarely came announced. She had fled all her life from a doctrine that demanded, that elevated as the highest principle, self-sacrifice. She had denied it, and despised it. But then she had been crushed by it in the arms of her father, burned by it in the flames of the Camadan, engulfed by it in the arms of the Hezzan. It was the Hezzan’s sacrifice for her, displayed in that simple act, that had granted her all his power, all his dominion. Not the Quarto. Not the Rahk-Taa. But these fools could not see it. The greatest Law of Transfer remained unmentioned and unaddressed in the teachings of the great book of Law. And the greatest Transfer was this: the Worthy who died for the Unworthy, and thus passed to them his title and his dominion.

  If the Quarto had been enmeshed in her web by her first three proofs, this last one found a drawstring and yanked it tight. They could not argue. They had no way to counter these claims, nor could they question the authoritative testimony of Sool Kron. So the very core of their beliefs now stood as Talon’s pathway to the throne. One word of agreement, and the kingdom was hers.

  Finally, Sool Kron broke the silence. “We await the judgment of the Rahk-Taa.” He purposefully did not say, “the judgment of the Quarto.” Talon noticed this.

  So did the Quarto. “And you shall have it,” the peevish one said. He looked at his compatriots. Two of them nodded. The elder shook his head. He looked back at Talon. “Your proofs are sufficient.”

  “No!” shouted the elder. He stood, nose to nose now with the peevish one. “We need more than the words of a mere woman and this old snake!”

  The peevish leader glared back. Then he spoke quietly. “We have conferred on her the Kar Ixthano for the death of Senslar Zendoda. Her claims are just, according to the Rahk-Taa.”

  The elder wanted to shout out that he didn’t care, that it wasn’t right, but he held his tongue.

  “She has in fact followed the Law,” said the bookish one, his finger running along lines written in the Rahk-Taa, which was open before him.

  The elder could not hold back now. “Don’t you see? We have been tricked!”

  “Tricked? By the Rahk-Taa?” the fourth one asked as he stood. He was a solid-looking young man who had been seated silently at the end of the table. He was the most heavily armed of the three, with a pistol in his belt and a long sword at his hip.

  The elder did not back down. He pointed at Talon. “Don’t you see? If we grant her the Kar Ixthano, we lose the kingdom! Are you mad? What will the people think of us? They are with us now! They will turn against us!”

  “Since when is the will of the people a reason to abandon the teachings of the Rahk-Taa?” asked the bookish young man sedately, not looking up from his reading.

  The elder spun, turning on him, spittle flying. “I’m talking about what’s right for the kingdom! It’s not right to let a woman rule! We all know this!”

  “The Rahk-Taa determines what is right for the kingdom. A
nd only the Rahk-Taa.”

  The elder’s face was crimson, his frustration extreme. “This path is wrong. You think for this she will give us seats at the Council, but she is treacherous! This is a grave mistake!”

  “She may do as she likes. The Quarto has ruled,” the peevish one said quietly, but he smiled at Talon.

  “Then we must rule again!” He drew his knife. “We agreed to this! She must die!” He pointed his knife at Talon.

  The other three grew alarmed now. The solid young man drew his sword. “Are you now revealing your own Unworthiness?”

  Breaths were held. He had asked the question softly, almost gently, but it hit the room like the death sentence it was.

  “No,” said the elder, not backing down. “This Quarto has a duty to stop her. Don’t you understand what she’s doing?”

  He looked around the room at the faces of the other men, the witnesses. They were blank. “Don’t you see it? Speak up, or she’ll take the kingdom! She’s tricked us, used our own Law against us! The kingdom should be ours! It should belong to the Quarto, to the Zealots! This weasel and this witch have conspired together! They killed the Hezzan, and now you’re going to let them steal his kingdom?”

  Now the bookish one stood as well, so that all the Quarto were on their feet. The peevish man turned to face his elder, and looked stonily at him. “It is not stealing to gain dominion through Kar Ixthano. It is Worthy. The commands of the Rahk-Taa are to place the upright in power. She has proven her Worthiness according to the Rahk-Taa. You, however, have profaned the Kar Ixthano. You have profaned the Rahk-Taa. You have proven your Unworthiness to serve here. You are an Unworthy.”

  “No, don’t you see—”

  But he never finished the sentence. The bookish one had drawn his own knife and now plunged it into his elder’s back.

  The elder cried out and sank to his knees, never taking his eyes off the peevish one, who looked down on him without mercy—in fact, with very little interest. The elder trembled violently. “I put you in power!” he whimpered. “And you betray me?”