Unbroken Chain

by Jaleigh Johnson

  Ashok thought of Gaina, and his uncomfortable truth of the shadar-kai race. Darnae had said the same thing, though far more diplomatically. Some tasks were not meant for the shadar-kai. What they considered lesser professions were filled by the other races—the dark ones, the humans, the dwarves, and the halflings like Darnae.

  Shadar-kai like Skagi, Cree, and Chanoch can nourish their pride on their military service, Ashok thought. What of Vedoran’s pride, no lesser a force and too long diminished by his rank as a Blite?

  “You could leave,” Ashok said, “take your services to another enclave. You could go far.”

  “I was born here,” Vedoran said. “It’s my city. It belongs to me as much as it belongs to Tempus.”

  He looked at Ashok, and the burning was still there, but mingled with it was a curiosity that softened him and made him voice his next words with trepidation.

  “I look at you,” Vedoran said, “and see the last place I should look to find hope. Yet I do. Perhaps with you, things will be different.”

  They had reached the paddock. The wide field was empty, and Olra was nowhere in sight. Ashok knew she was preparing to bring the nightmare out. The only time they could force a lead on him was when he was in his cage, deep in the caverns, where his deathly screams wouldn’t touch the nearby buildings.

  For in the Camborr compound the forge masters also worked, the Guardians who created all Ikemmu’s weapons for its warriors and its trade. There at least, was a craft the shadar-kai could engage in. They worked the dangerous fires, day and night, forging the tools of battle. Ashok had learned to recognize the black smoke that drifted up in a constant plume from the forges. Olra came out of the cavern first, leading the nightmare with his face chained and hooded. Beside her walked a contingent of guards with spears. She nodded at them to spread out along the fence.

  “Are you prepared for this?” Vedoran asked, as Olra released the nightmare into the paddock. The beast immediately began to run in ever-widening circles, striking sparks off the rocky ground, stamping his black marks into the cave grass.

  “Worried your great hope might get his brains dashed out under a flaming hoof?” Ashok asked in a light tone.

  “Why is it so important to you that he be broken?” Vedoran asked. “I’d have thought … you of all the rest would want him to stay as he is.”

  Ashok met Vedoran’s shrewd gaze. “Did I ever say I intended to break him?” he said.

  “Then what are you planning?” Vedoran asked.

  But Ashok just shook his head. “You’re right,” he said. “I do want him to stay the way he is. So I hope he and I can come to an understanding. Though I admit, he is the last place I should look to find hope.” Smiling crookedly, Ashok checked his armor and weapons, then pulled himself up and swung a leg over the iron fence. “If he tears me apart,” he called down, “you’ll know I was wrong.”

  He landed in a crouch. The dry, scorched grass crackled under his boots. His heart rate had already picked up, but he worked to even his accelerated breathing. He fought to show his respect for the red-eyed menace bucking wildly across the paddock, so the beast would not misinterpret the relish in Ashok’s eyes.

  Olra caught sight of Ashok standing on the wrong side of the fence. Her eyes widened in furious horror.

  “That wasn’t our agreement, fool!” she shouted at him.

  “Don’t stop him now, I beg you,” came Skagi’s voice. “The fun’s just beginning.”

  Skagi, Chanoch, and Cree walked side by side toward the fence from the direction of the training yard. Vedoran joined them, and together they spread out and climbed the fence at various points, forming a protective perimeter around Ashok. The guards filled in around them.

  The nightmare stilled when he saw Ashok inside the fence. Ashok watched his cunning eyes and saw them register that something was different. Somehow, the beast knew what was coming.

  A quiver ran down the nightmare’s body as it regarded Ashok from a distance. He didn’t charge, as Ashok had expected him to do. Instead he regarded the shadar-kai calmly, pacing back and forth thirty feet in front of him. There was almost no fire burning up the beast’s mane, only the intermittent flashes of gold nested in the flowing black hair.

  Ashok stood with his arms loose at his sides. Slowly, he removed the chain at his belt.

  “What’d you do to your spikes?” Chanoch called out, and the nightmare froze, hissing a steamy breath that hung on the cold air like a phantom.

  Ashok turned a brief, fierce glare on Chanoch, and the young one obediently fell quiet. He unwrapped the chain and let the spikes loop upon the ground. The sharp points he’d wrapped in a protective coating of leather—stiff, but not fire resistant—into an iron whip, except he had no intention of striking the beast unless it was absolutely necessary.

  But the nightmare couldn’t know that. As soon as he saw Ashok loop the end of the chain across his knuckles, he backed off, rearing high in the air, his flaming fetlocks streaking yellow afterimages across Ashok’s vision.

  Ashok slid a step forward, refusing to show any sign of intimidation.

  The nightmare snorted a breath and charged, his scream echoing across the paddock and beyond, into the city.

  Ashok dived to the side. He felt the wall of heat graze his body as the nightmare barreled past, but it was the scream that tore into his concentration and shredded all his carefully composed plans.

  In the open space, the sound echoed off the canyon wall and came back magnified a dozen times. Skagi, Cree, Chanoch, and Vedoran all wavered on the fence, but they held, balancing with their legs and clamping their free hands over their ears until the sound became bearable.

  Ashok didn’t have that luxury. As soon as the nightmare could, it skidded to a stop and turned its huge body, charging again. Ashok leaped to his feet and whipped the chain over his head in a wide arc. He brought the weapon down in front of his body to strike the ground, over and over, warning the nightmare off.

  “My ground,” Ashok cried, and his voice was loud and disjointed in the wake of the awful scream. “Yield!”

  But the nightmare kept coming, heedless of its own safety. It was going to run Ashok down.

  Ashok knew it was a critical test. If he gave way, the nightmare would always be in control. No matter what he tried, the beast would know that in the end, Ashok would be the one to yield.

  So Ashok swung the chain and forced himself to stand while the flaming death charged him, eating up the ground between them in mere breaths. The scream rang out again, and crimson eyes were all Ashok could see.

  It happened so fast, Ashok hardly had time to register the outcome.

  The nightmare changed its course a fraction and charged past him. Ashok felt the heat again, so close that his eyes watered. He felt the burn in his nostrils. But he was still standing. The nightmare charged past him and screamed in terrible fury.

  The nightmare ended its failed challenge by ramming its head into the fence inches from where Cree perched. The shadar-kai was forced to jump down to safety, and Ashok caught the faint scent of singed hair where the nightmare’s flames had kissed him.

  The beast’s mane was fully ablaze, with flames that glowed blue at the roots. The nightmare gave off a horrible scent of burning flesh, though Ashok knew he was unharmed by the fire that came from within. The stench of burning was for the benefit of its prey, a warning to any who would dare attack him.

  “You won’t burn me,” Ashok said, “not when I’m on your back.”

  “You won’t ride him without a saddle,” Olra hollered across the field. “Don’t even try it.”

  “She’s right,” Cree said. “The wizards have a means: a saddle enchanted to protect you from the fire.”

  “I’ll get it,” Olra said.

  “No,” said Ashok, shaking his head. “It’s not fair to him. He should have his chance at me.”

  Olra cursed, loudly enough for Ashok to hear across the field. “I knew this would happen,” she said. She
motioned to one of her guards, who handed her a longbow and a full quiver. She perched on the fence and nocked an arrow, training it on the nightmare.

  Ashok glared at her. “You won’t use that,” he said, “unless I give the word.”

  “Careful,” Vedoran warned from Ashok’s other side.

  Ashok set his chin stubbornly. “This is my fight,” he said.

  “This is my ground, fledgling,” Olra said. She raised the bow. “You do as I tell you.”

  Fury burned in Ashok’s chest. He stripped his dagger from its sheath before he thought and threw it across the field. It passed over the nightmare’s head and clanged loudly off the iron fence next to Olra.

  The Camborr flinched; the arrow wavered, and she jumped down so she wouldn’t fall. When she’d regained her balance, the look she cast Ashok was one of pure rage.

  Behind Ashok, Vedoran sighed. “That was a mistake,” he said.

  “I’m aware of it,” Ashok said through gritted teeth. But he couldn’t take it back.

  “Take him out of there,” Olra said to her guards. “If he resists, put a spear in his gut. I’ll get the nightmare.”

  “Wait,” Ashok said as the guards approached the fence. If they disturbed the field, it was all over. He looked at Olra, but was aware all the time of the nightmare standing strangely quiet, as if he too were waiting to see how the tableau played out. “I apologize for my disrespect,” Ashok said. The words came to his lips as if dredged from deep water. “But I’m here now, and”—he glanced at the nightmare, forcing himself to meet that red, inscrutable gaze—“I’m not leaving. We have to compromise.”

  “He’s right,” Vedoran said. “Even if he is a fool.”

  Good-natured laughter came from Skagi and the rest, and even Olra’s black gaze softened a bit. Ashok felt a strange prickling along his skin, a feeling like the others were in the struggle with him. They wanted success for Ashok as much as he himself did. It was the sense of community again, of trust that he couldn’t fathom.

  This is how it could have been with them, Ashok thought. Lakesh … My brothers.

  No. That kind of distraction truly would get him killed. Ashok clamped down on the treacherous thoughts and the echoes of the past, and focused on the nightmare.

  “You’re in my thoughts, aren’t you?” he whispered. “You and I will dance now, but we’ll dance again tonight, on your field.” Ashok hoped he was ready.

  Slowly, with the chain dragging loosely, non-threateningly at his side, Ashok took two steps toward the nightmare. The beast flicked his tail. Sparks showered the ground. They flared and singed the grass before going out.

  Ashok took another step forward, without hesitation. He kept walking until he was almost close enough to touch the nightmare’s thick black chest. The reek of burning flesh clung to the beast like a shroud. It dipped its head, releasing a cloud of steam that Ashok did touch, his fingers caressing the phantom heat. He blew a breath of his own into the nightmare’s face, letting him take in his scent. He stood still while the nightmare’s nostrils flared, and the beast tossed his head, whether in apathy or disgust Ashok couldn’t say.

  More breaths passed, and Ashok stretched out a hand tentatively.

  The nightmare snapped at him, its wicked teeth sinking into Ashok’s flesh. Ashok tore his hand away, but that only made the wound worse.

  Ashok immediately backed off, clutching his hand, which had a large chunk of flesh torn out of the heel. Blood spattered the ground.

  “Are you all right?” Chanoch called out to him.

  Ashok could see the warriors were tense, their bodies half hanging over the fence, prepared to strike. But the nightmare seemed in no danger of charging or lashing out again. It stood as sedately as before, and Ashok thought he read a smug expression in the beast’s eyes.

  “I’m fine,” he assured them. He smiled darkly at the nightmare. “You were just greeting me, weren’t you?”

  The nightmare snorted. Ashok tore a bit of his sleeve and wrapped it quickly around his hand to staunch the bleeding. The wound would need to be tended, that was certain, but he wasn’t surrendering the field.

  He stalked forward, boldly entering the nightmare’s space, and put his entire body within striking distance of those teeth and deadly hooves. He reached his bloodied hand out again.

  As before, the nightmare struck, faster than Ashok’s eyes could track. But he’d been expecting the snap, and instead of recoiling he jerked his other hand up—the hand that held the chain.

  In a swift motion he encircled the beast’s neck twice with the chain, the leather-covered spikes snarling with mane and flesh in a rough lasso. Ashok dropped to his knees to try to avoid the gnashing teeth, but the nightmare caught his shoulder, ripping apart the bone scales of his breastplate.

  Ashok fell forward against the beast’s legs and instantly felt the fetlocks burning him. The flames surged up around him as if he’d sat in a campfire. He would burn alive if he didn’t move.

  Throwing himself backward, Ashok rolled to put out the flames that had sprung up along his cloak and shirt. The nightmare, to Ashok’s relief, did not pursue him, but bucked and jumped, his four legs leaving the ground. He tossed his head madly, trying to dislodge the wicked chain.

  Flame roared from the beast’s mane, consuming the metal. The leather burned away to blackened scraps, exposing the sharp spikes. The barbs dug into the nightmare’s flesh, and the beast let out another scream of pure rage and frustration.

  “The fire won’t get you what you want,” Ashok said. He lunged and grabbed the dangling end of the chain. A mistake.

  The nightmare reared and yanked Ashok up to his toes. Ashok tried to dig in, but his palms were slick with sweat from the fire. The chain slipped out of his hands.

  Free, the nightmare barreled forward, knocking Ashok to the ground with a blow from his chest. The chain swung above Ashok’s head. He grabbed for the end, but the nightmare pulled it out of reach. The beast reared up again to strike at Ashok with his hooves.

  Ashok rolled away over the hard ground. His world spun, but he kept his body moving until it fetched up against an obstruction.

  He looked up to see Skagi gazing down at him in amusement. For a breath, Ashok was confused. The shadar-kai was on the wrong side of the fence. Then he looked around and saw that the others had entered the paddock.

  The nightmare, pursuing Ashok, came up short when he saw the other shadar-kai had closed in. The beast snuffed a breath and turned a defensive circle, still dragging Ashok’s chain.

  “He turned you crispy yet?” Skagi asked.

  Ashok coughed. His chest burned where the nightmare had struck him. “Not yet,” he replied.

  Skagi helped him to his feet. “Maybe that’s enough for one day,” he said seriously. “You don’t have to break him on your first try.”

  Ashok watched the chain snag and drag through the dead grass. Skagi was right. He was still trying to establish dominance, something he’d told Vedoran he would not do.

  He walked forward, weaponless, aware of his companions looking on in trepidation. He motioned them back.

  For a third time, he approached within striking range of the hooves and teeth. He held out his hands, one bloodied, the other creased with blisters and scratches from trying to chain the beast. He stared the nightmare in the eyes.

  “Your choice,” he murmured. “We’ll fight, and one of us will die, if that’s what you want. But maybe I have something more to offer you.”

  At first the nightmare stood frozen, his tail swishing back and forth in time with the chain around his neck. The beast’s flaming mane glowed brightly.

  Suddenly the beast lunged. He came toward Ashok.

  And Ashok stood perfectly still.

  He was prepared to dodge at the last possible moment, but the nightmare stopped his charge before he could run Ashok down. The crimson eyes were so close. Ashok smelled his own blood on the nightmare’s breath. He waited for the scream, but silence reigned in the
paddock.

  “That’s it,” Ashok whispered. The nightmare blew steam on his face. He shivered. “You’re interested in me now, aren’t you?” Ashok asked.

  The nightmare jerked his head back, the chain swinging, but the fire ceased to flare from the beast’s mane. The flames softened and died out, leaving black strands. The beast pranced in place, agitated, but Ashok had expected nothing less. He would never be fully tamed.

  Ashok reached up and took hold of his chain. The nightmare threw his head from side to side, but Ashok ignored the fury and untangled the spikes and ruined leather from the beast’s mane. The hair strands were still hot.

  Then it was done. The chain fell to the ground, but Ashok kept his hands at the nightmare’s neck, stroking his flesh in small circles. His scent went into each stroke. Ashok spent long breaths running his hands up and down the nightmare’s neck before he moved on to its flank.

  The creature was dense and so tall—fifteen hands at least, Ashok surmised. His muscles were a wonder. A beast like that had no need for fire, when with one kick he could cave in a man’s chest.

  Ashok ran his hands under the nightmare’s mane. The heat radiating there was intense. He pulled his hands back, half expecting them to be black, but they weren’t. His skin was red and slick with sweat.

  “You’re calm now,” Ashok said, and threaded the mane through the fingers of his left hand. “But what will you think when I do this?”

  He hoisted himself up and swung a leg over the nightmare’s body.

  All around the paddock came audible gasps from the watching shadar-kai. Ashok didn’t look at them, refused to reassure them. Let them think he was crazy.

  Beneath him, the nightmare quivered, every muscle in the beast’s body resisting the thing that dared to sit on his back. Ashok knew exactly what the beast felt, struggling against his nature, fighting to maintain control. He reached out to stroke the nightmare’s neck, exposing his chest to the hot mane.

  “No reins,” Ashok said. “No chains. You can burn me anytime you want. You still have a choice.”

  Ashok knew the beast didn’t understand his words, but he thought the nightmare could read his intentions.