Rebel Elements (Seals of the Duelists)

by Giacomo, Jasmine

  “Going somewhere?” A new voice came from behind. Bayan whirled, putting Kipri behind him. A man in fine Shawnash apparel stood wielding a slender sword.

  “You!” Kipri shoved past Bayan’s protective arm. “From Lord Eshkin’s portico!”

  Anuq frowned. “You were a spy after all.”

  “Proudly!”

  “And a fool. You never learned the true scope of our plan. Years of work, frustrating the outer provinces with unchallenged vagary attacks. Not a single province ever saw Imperial Duelist teams sent vagary hunting.”

  “Surveyor Philo knew exactly what you were doing. He received a note; you have a traitor.”

  Anuq laughed. “None of us would ever betray the others.”

  “Well, someone knew what you were up to. Philo is emptying duel dens as we speak. Your vagaries will be dead in days.”

  “Even if I believed you, your actions come far too late. We have waited long, but we have planned well. Nothing can prevent the destruction of the Waarden Empire now!”

  Bayan glanced around while the man ranted, trying to focus on his options instead of his fears. More members of Qivinga’s house staff filtered into the room, all bearing steel blades. The exits were blocked. There was only one place to run, and it wouldn’t take them far.

  But it gave Bayan an idea.

  He grabbed Kipri’s arm and dashed past Qivinga, bolting to a loft overhead, which offered a better view of the sea through the large glass windows.

  The others drew close around the stairwell. Qivinga laughed, a high, manic giggle. “Look out, my brothers and sisters! The big bad duelist is going to cower in my loft!” She gestured with her dagger. “Go get them, Anuq.”

  Bayan dragged Kipri to his knees, hiding behind the low loft rail as the man with the sword began to ascend the steps. “Whatever happens, stay right next to me.” Kipri nodded, eyes wide.

  Bayan stood up and backed away a step.

  Qivinga squinted up at him in suspicion. “Stop him!”

  But they were too late. Bayan invoked his Earth avatar amidst a rush of silvery mist. Strider clawed his way through the floorboards in the middle of Qivinga’s minions. When he straightened up on the wooden floor, which creaked beneath his weight, he stood only a hand above the tallest of his foes—possibly an effect of the steel that surrounded him—but his sudden presence unnerved the would-be warriors, and they cursed and backed away, muttering of unnatural magic.

  Kuvi picked up the broken table, ripped off a leg, and slammed it against Strider’s chest, where it splintered into kindling. Bayan directed Strider, and the avatar slammed a knobby fist into the man’s chest, propelling him across the room and into a wall. Kuvi slumped to the floor.

  The others scrambled into the formal dining room, but Bayan wasn’t in the mood to let them escape. As the rebels fled, followed by the potbellied basalt avatar, Bayan bolted down the stairs to keep Strider in sight. Kipri trailed right behind him.

  Qivinga shouted that she wouldn’t be trapped in her prison by a boy with a big stone doll. Bayan rounded the corner to see the Aklaa princess surrounded and protected by her minions in a corner of the room.

  “Take out the duelist!” she shrieked. “His accursed magic is making the stone man!”

  Steel blades whirled toward Bayan and Kipri. They dived out of the way as the blades clanged and thudded into the wall behind them. Bayan, amazed that his arms had held the cross form throughout his dive to safety, ordered Strider to grab a large, heavy hutch from the wall. The spindly avatar held it before him as he charged toward the cowering princess and her cronies, but the servants rushed their beloved Starflower through the doorway to the kitchens before Strider could pin them in the corner.

  Strider jammed the hutch into the doorway, blocking their return. Bayan and Kipri stood up, and Bayan ordered Strider to make a hole in the outside wall of the house.

  “We’ve run out of time; they’ll circle around behind us,” he panted, as the wall parted from repeated slams from Strider’s body. Wooden support beams cracked and splintered. “We need to get out now.”

  “Naa. You’re not going anywhere.” Kuvi had crawled to the open doorway from the sitting room, and now lay on the floor with a crossbow leveled at them. The steel tip of the bolt gleamed, and Bayan had a moment of terrified flashback as he recalled the metal bolts flying at him and Kiwani during their midnight skill duel.

  Anuq and Sanniq appeared behind Kuvi and raised their blades. Qivinga burst between them before they could enter the dining room, leaping over Kuvi’s prone form.

  “Mindless imperial slaves!” she shrieked, wielding a dagger in each of her hands. “You will die, and everything you know and love will be destroyed in the coming war of liberation!”

  She leaped forward and thrust both daggers toward Bayan’s heart.

  Strider launched toward the three Aklaa in the doorway, reaching for the attacking Qivinga in midair and clutching her to his small, hard chest. Qivinga’s steel blades slammed against Strider’s stone body. Bayan felt a sudden, shearing sensation as his magical awareness of Strider vanished.

  Where—he just—

  Strider crumbled to a pile of rocks which slammed into the Aklaa and the doorway’s support beams. The four attackers cried out as they were crushed beneath the rain of stones. The adjacent walls twisted and crumpled, tearing the pale green silk on the walls and buckling the ceiling. The heavy iron chandelier overhead pulled free of its moorings and crashed to the table, spilling its oil reserves and splintering the shiny dark wood. The oil caught fire with a whump.

  “Bayan! Bayan, get out!” Kipri yanked on his shirt.

  Other staff screamed in rage or terror as they tried to enter the crumbling parlor. Kipri dragged Bayan through the small opening Strider had made in the outer wall. Bayan’s dueling tunic caught and tore on a rough wooden splinter which scored his side, leaving a jagged but shallow wound. His last view inside the house was of the crushed walls behind which Strider had vanished.

  They stumbled into a flowerbed bearing winter-hardy, silver-leafed plants and fell among them, crushing several.

  “I—Strider—” Bayan stuttered.

  “Later!” Kipri grasped his arm and tugged him toward the low wall at the property border.

  The manor’s walls shrieked and groaned behind them. A prolonged crunching noise heralded a cloud of dust and bits of wood that spat from the hole in the side of the building. Bayan watched in frozen horror as the second and third stories of the house leaned toward him, groaning as if in mortal agony, then collapsed and crushed the first floor into oblivion. A flicker of flame licked through what remained of his and Kipri’s exit hole, catching afire the splintered sections of the shattered outer wall.

  The Starflower’s prison was shattered and burning. But she would never be free of it.

  ~~~

  “Bayan, we have to tell someone.” Kipri hurried along the street as he pressed a corner of his sleeve to his bloody nose.

  Strider—he’s just gone. Bayan struggled to keep up. Servants and freemen from other manor houses poured onto the street, gawking and pointing at the burning wreck, but none seemed to pay any mind to two young men dressed in the cream and blue of a eunuch and a duelist. “Was that man really your uncle?”

  “He was. When I was five years old, our princes completed their eunuch training and returned to Aklaa to serve as mid-level government workers. But ten years of training couldn’t erase their desire for revenge; Emperor Hedrick had ordered their father, the Voice of Tilaa, ruler of the Aklaa realm, killed for his pride, and they wanted nothing more than the chance to repay the favor. My father and his brothers—including Kuvi—joined their rebellion as soon as they learned of it, but they were too hasty, too angry, and they got caught.

  “In order to help the princes escape, the rebels chose my father as the scapegoat and pinned the whole plot on him. Emperor Hedrick killed him, and the princes, my uncles, and everyone else escaped.” Kipri shook his head a
nd swiped angrily at his tears. “And now they’re trying again. My father was martyred for nothing.”

  “What do you mean, trying again?”

  “They’re here to assassinate the emperor, Bayan. That’s all they’ve ever wanted.”

  Despite his shock, Bayan tried to organize his thoughts. Kuvi had said a team was headed for the Kheerzaal. Qivinga had mentioned a war of liberation. Anuq had bragged that the vagary raids were splintering the loyalty of the outer provinces, that the empire would fall to pieces. The Aklaa would be free to rule themselves if the Waarden Empire fell. But Bayan was positive the provinces would never pull away as long as the emperor lived.

  Kipri had been right; the rebels were going to repay the emperor in kind for the death of their Voice of Tilaa.

  That vagary back in Marghebellen did kill himself, to protect the plan. I didn’t kill him, after all!

  Ahead, Bayan saw the sign for the Gyre’s Breath. “You need to clean up and stay out of sight.” Bayan directed the eunuch through the inn’s door and up the stairs to his room. While Kipri sat, Bayan soaked a clean cloth in the basin on the counter, wrung it out, and handed it to Kipri, who pressed it against his wounded nose.

  “We need to tell someone about their plan. The assassins are already on their way.”

  Bayan shook his head in confusion. “Could it be a lie, a trick? Low Spring is in three days.”

  Kipri’s face turned a sickly shade. “No… wait. When Anuq spoke to Lord Eshkin, he didn’t say ‘Low Spring’. He said ‘the Feast of Tuq’. On the old Raqtaaq calendar, that’s today. No one ever thought of that, not even me. I guess I made myself too Waarden. Bayan, it’s true. They’ve already gone.”

  Bayan felt as if he’d been kicked in the guts. “We’ll think of something. You stay here. If anyone survived that house, I don’t want them hunting you down in the streets.” He nodded a farewell and closed the door.

  Once in the hallway, though, Kipri’s words began to sink in. Bayan made it out of the inn, but he paused at the entrance to a tidy alley and slipped into the shadows, hot thoughts pounding through his mind.

  Even a horse courier who left at this instant couldn’t beat the assassins to the Kheerzaal. Is there any point to warning anyone about anything? What if… what if I just let the emperor die? Won’t that give me everything I’ve always wanted? Isn’t this the opportunity I’ve been waiting for?

  The alley dimmed. His darkness had thrust itself out around him. Inside the dark cloud, Bayan stood stock-still, ideas forcing their way into his consciousness.

  Emperor Jaap is the only fertile member of his generation of the imperial family. If he and his sons die, the empire dies with them, torn apart by feuds and power struggles. The Aklaa lands will pull away from the empire and establish their own rule again. Just like Qivinga and her eunuch princes wanted.

  Is that so bad?

  The darkness smiled. It only did so when he was angry, or when he was enjoying the sensation of casting magic.

  I am angry. I’m never not angry. I love my magic, but I don’t want to serve the emperor. I want my life back. I could simply make my way home during the confusion after the assassination. Imee might still take me back. And even if she doesn’t, I’d take being a Skycaller in Balanganam over being a Duelist any day.

  A doubt swirled through the darkness, cutting its intensity.

  Or would I? Could I leave Calder, Eward, Tarin, or Kiwani behind? They’re imperials, but they know me. They accept me. They’re nearly the only friends I have. And I could never see them again, because if I did, they’d have to turn me over to the emperor. If there was one.

  Unless they went to war against the Aklaa.

  This new thought chilled him. His hexmates were Elemental Duelists, eligible for war; they’d be sent off to battle against the Raqtaaq rebellion. And Qivinga had said her rebels had a whole army equipped with steel weapons. How had they gotten it? Bayan had no idea. But the woman had seemed just sane enough to blurt the truth when it showed her advantage.

  They’ll all die against an army like that. My hexmates, Taban, the newniks, the instructors. No one can stand up to that much steel.

  I’ll be free. But every duelist in the empire will die. And the Second Waarden Empire will fall.

  Bayan felt cold. Tingles shot down his entire body. A hot tear pooled in the corner of one eye.

  Do I save myself, or do I save the man who imprisoned me in a life of magical servitude and battle?

  His mind emptied entirely. No thoughts came to him, no solutions. He couldn’t choose.

  Then the rage boiled back into him. But for the first time in his duelist career, it was directed inward. He shuddered with the strength of it, bracing a hand against the alley wall, gasping, groaning for mercy.

  Am I so selfish that I’d let my friends die so that I could escape? Do I shun the duty they’d embrace? If I do nothing, they will die in my place. What sort of person does that make me? Could I live with that, alone on my mountain in Balanganam? Alone with the silence of their voices?

  No. I can’t let them die for me, when they believe they’re dying for their emperor. I don’t know him, but Kiwani does. He’s just a person, like us. And she’d never forgive me.

  Bayan inhaled, sucking the darkness into his lungs, letting the hot rage burn away his shame and doubt. His feet lurched into motion, pounding out into the street.

  Bhattara na. I am a Duelist of the Waarden Empire. Bhattara na.

  A Duelist’s Best Friend

  Kiwani sat with Tarin in her cozy cell inside the duel den, working on weaving slender stems into a basket using tiny Wood arcs.

  “It’s really coming together; too bad it won’t last.”

  “We could always try to manipulate real wood,” Tarin began. Thundering footsteps interrupted her.

  “Calder! Kiwani! Where are you?” Bayan shouted. “Anyone!”

  “Now what’s he gone and done?” Kiwani slipped off Tarin’s bed and opened the door.

  Calder and Eward had opened theirs, too. “What’s going on, Bayan?” Calder asked.

  Bayan skidded to a stop, panting. “Someone’s going to assassinate the emperor.”

  “What?” Kiwani felt icy shock freeze her bones. My godfather! No… not anymore…

  “And they left Muggenhem this morning.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Well, that’s not very considerate.” Calder drew his pale brows together. “How do they expect us to stop them that way?”

  Bayan panted, still catching his breath. “It’s a very good question. Are the den duelists here? Maybe they have an idea.”

  “They’re out for the evening, being wined and dined at various nobles’ homes,” Kiwani explained. “It’s a long-standing tradition around here.”

  “Bhattara!” Bayan growled. Then his expression saddened. “The rebels killed Strider.”

  “What?” Tarin gasped. “How?”

  “Steel. I felt him just tear away from me and vanish.”

  “Steel?” Calder echoed angrily.

  Eward was wide-eyed. “They can kill our avatars? How do we fight that?”

  “I don’t know. But we have to try. We have to think of something. If the emperor dies, we’re all going to find ourselves on the front lines of the Second War of Steel.”

  Kiwani and the others stared, shocked into speechlessness.

  “Go on, then,” Calder finally managed. “Tell us the bad news. Don’t hold back; we can take it.”

  Tarin sat down against the hallway wall, staring blankly. “The empire is going to crumble, and we can only sit here idly and wait for it to crush us.”

  “Oh, aye, that’s the spirit,” Calder said, but he sounded just as defeated.

  Kiwani’s heart lurched. No! He may not be my godfather in truth, but he is still my emperor, and it is my duty to serve. As Kiwani struggled for an idea, Tarin’s words came back to her. Idly. Idle. Yes!

  “I know how we can try to reach Akkeraad before the as
sassins!”

  “How?” asked Bayan.

  “Everyone into the arena, now! It’s time for an avatar class.”

  ~~~

  Bayan stood a distance from his hexmates as they each tried to manifest an avatar that could get them to the Kheerzaal. No pressure, no pressure. He tried to summon a Wood avatar. If only I could resurrect Strider. No, he’d have a terrible time carrying all of us with those long spindly arms. What I really need is…

  “Is that even possible?” He paused in his Wood summoning, letting the half-formed spell and its attendant green mist slip. He looked around; no one was having any success yet. But he had been successful with an Earth avatar. And with Strider dead…

  Bayan invoked Earth, then performed the avatar summons, curious whether anything at all would happen.

  A cloud of silver surrounded him. The arena floor shuddered in a circle before him, rumbling like a massive earthquake. A massive stone paw pushed up from the center of the leaping sand, followed by the rest of the avatar’s body as he clambered into the air and shook himself, flinging sand particles everywhere.

  On the other side of the creature, his hexmates paused and stared up at Bayan’s new Earth avatar.

  The enormous canine form was lean and rangy, formed from Bayan’s memories of his dog back home. Light orange in color, his stone skin caught the late afternoon light like sleek fur.

  “Meet Timbool.”

  “It’s a dog,” Eward stated.

  “Yes, he is. Strider may be dead, but my Earth avatar skills aren’t. Timbool can get us to the Kheerzaal quickly. Now, everyone up.”

  “Up? Your dog has an up?” Tarin asked.

  Bayan willed the avatar to lie down. He did so, wagging his stone tail, which flung gouts of the arena sand into the air. The others discovered the sunken pit lined with stone seats that Bayan had formed in Timbool’s back. Bayan clambered up after them, placing his feet on Timbool's paw and haunch, struggling to keep his balance while holding his arms in position.

  Once he was seated with the others, he had a better view of where Timbool was pointed. He ordered the dog avatar to its feet. As the dog obediently stood, Bayan’s eye level rose from halfway up the arena stands to even with the top of the arena wall.