Gambit of the Gods

by Ashley, Angela

  “But then I began to care about people, little by little, then more and more. I’m the ghost of House Klia now. They’ve become like family to me. There’s no way I’m letting them go down without a fight.”

  Her eyes gleam as she says this. For the first time, it dawns on me how beautiful she is in her own right. In the Lab, so long ago now, I’d always ignored Sera, with her straight brown hair, pale skin, and her slim, almost boyish figure. But now, her eyes look enormous, animated with passion, her spirit shining out from behind them. I take an unconscious, deep breath, awed.

  The others gape at her in surprise as well. It’s like Sera has finally come into her own, finding something to believe in and fight for.

  “I stand with you too,” I tell the others. “Malyse is a manipulative, sexually sadistic woman. I’ve been avoiding her for decades now. I can promise you, I deeply regret every moment I’ve spent near her.” Wishing I could wash off her vile mental influence, I shiver.

  “Some of you know I care about the Queensrealm slaves. There’s no way I’ll allow anyone to ‘play’ with them as if they’re just a toy.”

  “I can sense your sincerity,” Gideon assures us, and the others nod in agreement. It’s difficult, though not impossible, to lie to another spirit when they can see your soul and sense your emotions. We can shield against others’ intrusion, but the very act of doing that betrays the possibility of dishonesty. Sera and I, on the other hand, were careful not to hide our feelings while we spoke, knowing it would prove our truthfulness.

  “If Malyse and Kai can hide their auras,” Sera asks, “how will we find out what they’re planning and stop them before it’s too late?”

  “I think it may already be too late.” I can sense Lark’s fear. “We were going to tell you about what happened, but then Malyse made her sudden…pronouncement,” she adds dryly.

  I raise an eyebrow. “What happened?”

  Lark sighs, gathering her thoughts. I feel Gideon give her a mental caress of encouragement. “We told you before about how Gideon gifted his niece Ellrie’s line with the ability to dream glimpses of the future, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Miklos, Ellrie’s great-grandson, dreamed a few days ago that my Chosen, Little Squirrel, is in danger from unseen forces.”

  Sera gasps, echoing my own shock. The People live deep in the wilderness, surrounded by known threats: wild animals, extreme weather, natural disasters, lack of food. The only unseen danger would have to come from outside.

  So…it’s already begun, just as Malyse said.

  “What if that madwoman is stalking Kella and House Klia right now?” Sera whispers.

  I feel her terror bloom beside me like a dark flower. I send her a thought-tendril of sympathy, and she gives me a grateful look in return.

  Finally Gideon, who can always see the bright side to anything, speaks.

  “We’re six against two, remember. They may have gotten the jump on us, but we’ll be in full defensive mode now. Be thinking about what ability would give your Chosen the best chance of surviving an attack. Let’s check in with each other as often as necessary with any new information. We know, or at least suspect, that one of their Chosen is hidden among the People. That leaves only one in the Queensrealm, most likely, for you two to watch out for.”

  “But Kella just isn’t the type to lash out offensively,” Sera blurts. “Unlike the rest of your Chosen, she’s lived a very sheltered life. She’ll be defenseless no matter what ability I give her because she trusts everyone. I’m going to have to watch her die, and there won’t be anything I can do about it.”

  Her big brown eyes are so sad. I find myself wracking my brain for a way to help her.

  “Hmm. Maybe we should give Kella a defensive ability, then. Her dominant forces are Air and Spirit, right? What if…she could wrap a shield of air around herself, to push away attackers?”

  A glimmer of hope dawns in Sera’s eyes. It’s the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen. I’ve never been one to worry about others, always making my way alone against the world for the most part. But this feeling of satisfaction from helping someone else is…very pleasing. I could get used to this.

  Gideon looks at me with approval.

  “I think Wilde may be onto something. The strongest abilities will flow out of our Chosen’s natural inclinations, with the added benefit that they won’t find them too shocking or unpleasant to use when the time comes.”

  The others murmur in agreement. This is the reason we haven’t given out abilities willy-nilly up until now. We respect the sanctity of our Chosens’ lives just as they are, not wishing to make them a target of superstition or religious condemnation.

  But now, what choice have we? None.

  “Why don’t I go back to House Klia with you,” I suggest, turning to Sera, “to help you with Kella’s new ability? The two of us together can make it twice as strong.”

  Her gratitude washes over me in a heady tidal wave. Unable to help myself, I give her one of my rare, genuine smiles.

  “Be sure to check in with us as soon as you know any more,” I call out to the others.

  With the impetus of just a thought, Sera and I travel to the grand entrance hall of House Klia. Looking up at the glowing wooden balustrades rising up from the cream-colored marble floor and arching like the branches of a majestic, living tree at the heart of this great, three-storied manor house for the first time, I begin to understand why Sera feels so at home here.

  Ladies in green dresses stroll here and there, tending to the lush plants decorating the entrance hall, which is paneled from floor to ceiling with sunwashed windows. To one side, I see more Ladies ensconced in a large, lush sitting room, playing a game, while others make merry music with delicate wooden flutes in an adjoining music room. On the other side, a library beckons, dotted with Ladies reading quietly. Little girls, also in green dresses, chase one another between the potted plants, giggling, with the adults looking on in amusement.

  This House, I sense from the minds around me, is the hub of a connected family unit. Love binds them all together. Love, loyalty, and House pride.

  Before long, Kella walks through the door with another girl, carrying a bouquet of white roses. Sera goes to her, her relief at seeing her safe palpable. I follow.

  “This is Karyl, Kella’s cousin and close confidante,” Sera explains, indicating the pretty brunette chattering animatedly with Kella.

  Both girls wear divided riding skirts and riding boots. When they separate, climbing opposite flights of stairs, Sera says, “It’s almost time for supper, so they’ve gone to change clothes. As a daughter of the High Elder, Kella merits rooms in the larger, south-facing suites, while her cousin must make do with her smaller, north-facing rooms.”

  We follow Kella up the stairs. I glimpse her personal servant before the door closes. Unsurprisingly, I don’t recognize him, either as part of the Resistance, or from slave gatherings during House Ball festivities.

  Personal servants keep themselves apart from more common, outdoor slaves. This pecking order has made it difficult for the Resistance to grow. Living in such close proximity with their Ladies, personal servants’ loyalties usually lie with their House instead of with their slave brethren. They’re part of the problem because they’re slaves, yet they can’t be trusted to stand with us. Their acceptance of their captivity divides and weakens us.

  Following Kella back down the stairs, I pause to admire the grand portraits of former House Klia High Elders, Ladies, and their daughters in their stunning green dresses decorating the walls.

  “You see, Sera?” I complain, indicating the paintings. “If servants are pictured, they’re in the background waiting to serve, with little or no detail given to their faces.” The slaves are faceless even in this society’s artwork, I muse sadly.

  Sera has the grace to grimace. “I know, but it’s not their fault, Wilde. They’re raised from birth to think they’re superior to men. They don’t know a
ny better.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Evil is still evil.”

  Kella is one of the last to enter the dining room. A few of those seated around the massive mahogany table speak her name in greeting. A servant pulls back a padded chair, and she thanks him before taking her seat. Karyl hurries in a moment later, choosing a chair next to Kella. They continue their conversation right where they left off earlier, I note in amusement.

  A formidable-looking woman sitting at the head of the table (the High Elder, I assume, from the wings of silver in her hair) stands to get everyone’s attention. The room falls silent. Every head bows except mine.

  “Glorious Goddess Klia,” the High Elder prays, her voice cloyingly pious to my taste, “we thank You for the generous bounty before us. Your blessed kindness overwhelms us. Thank You for choosing us as Your people and raising us up to do Your good work. Continue to guide us in Your ways. Teach us Your love, today and every day. In the name of our wondrous Goddess of Nature, divine Klia, we pray. Amen.”

  The servants step forward with platters of delicious-looking food. As always at such times, I thank the Spirit Over All that I can’t smell the delectable scents wafting from them. I notice with approval that Kella thanks every servant who serves her. Her friend Karyl and a few others do, as well. Unfortunately, in my experience, this is quite rare among the Houses.

  Sera beckons me into the hallway, presumably so we can speak without distraction.

  She seems nervous, so I hurry over, a question in my eyes.

  “I’m having second thoughts about this idea of an ‘air shield’, though please don’t get me wrong—it’s a wonderful idea. It’s just, if an attacker catches her off guard and gets under her shield, she’s dead. I—I guess I’m wondering if we shouldn’t give her an ability that’s offensive as well as defensive, somehow.”

  I nod, thinking of how House Klia worships the Goddess of Nature. Nature can be both kind and cruel. Looking down at a small table beside us, I admire a crystal vase holding an arrangement of red roses. Nature has protected their soft, delicate petals with treacherous thorns.

  “We just have to make sure it’s seen as one ability, not two. Who knows what punishment Malyse will exact for breaking one of her ‘rules.’” I ponder. “What if…the shield was made of lightning…no, too violent, hmm…”

  “Something she could use to protect others as well as herself…” Sera speculates.

  “What if…instead of just an air-shield, it’s a wind-shield, and she can control how strongly she pushes an attacker away?”

  Sera nods thoughtfully. I get the sense from her that I’m getting warmer.

  “Or maybe she can pick up a person using the wind and carry or toss them away from her, even dash them against a tree trunk or a big rock? Sort of like ‘the mighty hand of the Nature Goddess, moving to protect her’, but she can control it?”

  “Yes! She’ll think it’s a gift from her Goddess!” Sera exclaims. I can feel her excitement. “But Malyse will stop at nothing to win. If we want to protect Kella…”

  “Yes?”

  “Why limit her to wind? Wilde, what if she could call the full force of a storm?”

  “That would give her the thorns along with the rose,” I agree, pretending to pull a rose from the vase and gesture with it as if it were a sword. “It’s perfect!”

  We’re grinning at each other, standing very close here in the hallway. I want to hug her but I can’t, and I think she feels the same way. So instead, I reach out with gentle mind-fingers, brushing her soul tentatively…

  Sera backs away, the happiness in her eyes fading into the wariness of a wounded animal. I feel iron walls rise up, pushing me away from her like the fingers of wind I’d just imagined.

  Wanting to spare her the embarrassment of explaining her overreaction, I suggest, “Why don’t I go check on Kisto and Jaereth, you know, make sure they’re safe, while we wait for Kella to fall asleep? You could come get me when it’s time.”

  “Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” she answers coolly.

  A moment later, I stand outside the sturdy little shack Kisto and Jaereth share. The darkness embraces me like an old friend. I just stand there, looking at the stars winking above me, watching the wind moving in the apple trees nearby.

  I don’t know Sera’s story because she’s always kept to herself, but I sense it’s not unlike my own, full of violence and pain. I recognized the fear and pain in her eyes because I feel it, too.

  I’ll have to move much more delicately if I’m to have any chance of being her friend. That must come first, before there can be more. Unless, of course, I just blew my only chance.

  I hear voices inside the shack and move through the wall, finding Jaereth and Kisto seated in front of a cheery little fire in the fireplace. They’re taking turns scraping the last bites of vegetable stew from the cauldron hanging over the fire, their empty plates lying discarded at their feet.

  I’ve been so worried for their safety. In that moment, I hate Malyse more than I’ve ever hated anyone. They’re innocent. How dare she make a game out of harming them?

  Try to imagine what it’s like to be conscious day and night for decades because you no longer inhabit a body requiring sleep, but you’ll never come close to understanding the boredom and loneliness we suffer. Only the dream of seeing the slaves freed has kept me sane. I won’t give that up without a fight.

  Kisto is Jaereth’s Mentor. Boys are taken from their mothers at birth and given to the male slaves in other Houses to raise. These slaves, called “Mentors”, having been raised in a culture where men are considered little better than animals, ignorantly perpetuate this injustice in what they teach the boys given into their keeping. Most slaves do, that is.

  Jaereth was born of House Jemleyn, then sold to House Beltarra to bolster the ranks of their ‘outside’ slaves. Once he was weaned, Kisto became his Mentor.

  I’d selected Kisto as my Chosen before Jaereth came to us because he’s the leader of the more non-violent, though smaller, Resistance faction. I wanted to be at the center of the action. Like most natural leaders, Kisto has a strong mind and sense of self. It made him refreshingly different from the weak-minded sex slaves I’d become used to while aiding Malyse in her sexual conquests. But it also made him more difficult to influence, and in the end I failed to shake him from his belief that rising up against those who enslaved them would only get them all killed. Fortunately, Jaereth grew to have a very different mindset.

  As soon as Jaereth became Kisto’s Mentee, I’d felt drawn to the boy. Early on, he displayed a natural charisma that attracted others, and unlike Kisto’s, calm, down-to-earth nature, Jaereth’s sense of humor and untamed spirit reminded me strongly of my own. Before long, I’d taken Jaereth for my Chosen instead, though Kisto remains dear to me as well.

  I’ve ridden along in Jaereth’s head since he was just a boy, and I suspect that some of my natural caution may have rubbed off on him. Unfortunately, I’ve had to wonder on more than one occasion whether my roguish disposition hasn’t done the same.

  He’s had a couple of close scrapes with authority. Quite frankly, he would never have survived past the age of ten if he’d been raised under the crushing iron fist of House Amalria, House Stalia, or House Mystalora. Luckily, House Beltarra is more forgiving toward its slaves than most. Additionally, they appreciate Jaereth’s innate ability to solve problems and build strong yet beautiful structures.

  “Then they found the knife hidden under the floorboards of his hut, and that was that. They’ll hang him for sure, now,” Kisto tells Jaereth somberly.

  Jaereth just shakes his head. I sense his shock and sorrow.

  Who are they talking about? I wonder, alarmed. Like Sera with her Ladies, I’ve grown fond of many of the slaves, both those owned by House Beltarra as well as others I’ve gotten to know through Jaereth and Kisto. But I hate to think of any slave hanging from that abomination they call a Hanging Arm. It’s barbaric.

  “But w
hy did he steal the bread? He knows better!”

  Jaereth throws his empty spoon into the cauldron with a clatter to vent his frustration.

  “It’s exactly as I’ve been saying, boy!” Kisto drops his own spoon in. “Berit’s trying to force his men into full-on rebellion. Well, now he’s done it.”

  Ah, Berit, I muse—the leader of the Resistance’s more violent faction, based under the very noses of House Stalia.

  The hatred in that faction is fueled by the fact that House Stalia forces many of the younger ‘outside’ slaves of House Stalia to spend several years servicing Ladies in the mating temples. Some few enjoy the sexual outlet, but most suffer it as the rape it is.

  If they resist, they’re even more highly sought after by Ladies with a taste for a bit of a struggle. So they learn to show no emotion, hiding their tears deep inside. This breeds a festering hostility that some fail to keep hidden for long.

  Berit is the first faction leader in decades to actively encourage that hostility, attempting to use it to foment an uprising. Apparently, he’s decided to sacrifice himself in order to spark the conflagration.

  “Well,” says Jaereth thoughtfully, scratching his red-stubbled cheeks, “maybe Berit has the right of it, Kisto.”

  Kisto turns from choosing which tools to stuff into his leather workbag for tomorrow’s chores, looking questioningly at his young Mentee.

  “What are you saying?”

  This is an old argument between them. Usually Kisto wins it. But lately Jaereth, at seventeen summers, has begun to speak his mind more often, whether it agrees with Kisto’s views or not.

  Jaereth holds Kisto’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated by the warning look in his Mentor’s eyes.

  “I just think there’s no point in leading a Resistance faction if you never resist.”

  It’s the first time Jaereth has ever actually said it out loud rather than backing down. I feel proud of him, but concerned at his timing. I want the slaves to be free, but with this ‘game’ afoot, a rebellion now is a potentially disastrous complication. It may even be Malyse’s first move on the board, for all I know.