by Zoe Marriott
Cautiously I moved forward through the heaving crowd, pushing as close as I could to the line of gourdin and peering through the gaps between their shoulders. I could see no sign of blood or bruising on the children, but they sat frighteningly still, blankfaced and staring at nothing as the cart was pulled along. Looking at their glazed eyes, I realized that they had been drugged to keep them quiet, and I felt a fierce shaft of anger pierce my anxiety. Damn Abheron. Didn’t he want to see his victims cry?
I turned my head to look for him. Still on his horse, he had taken up a position before the flagpoles, with the lake at his back. As the cart rumbled to a stop on his left, he lifted one of his hands from the reins. Two gourdin stepped forward at the signal and blew a long, shrill note on their pipes. The crowd immediately fell silent, waiting. I was reminded sharply of the wary Sedorne guests at Abheron’s ball.
Does he really mean to do this? I wondered in bewilderment. Are fear and obedience enough for him? Why must he break everyone and everything?
“My people!” Abheron called out, his deep, melodic voice carrying easily over the crowd. “Loyal subjects of Jijendra. You all know why you are here. The night before last, traitors invaded the ball I was giving for my niece and her husband. Those rebels set fire to my pleasure craft and destroyed them, causing the deaths of many brave soldiers and innocent people.”
I snorted quietly as I worked my way along the line of gourdin, searching for the best place to wait.
“They kidnapped my niece and her husband and are holding them hostage. Word has even reached me that an armed force calling itself the alliance is coming here, hoping to take the city by force. Elements only know what horrors it would perpetrate on Jijendra.”
A murmur of astonishment ran through the crowd. The faces I could see didn’t look too frightened, though – more incredulous. Let’s hope they’re not stupid enough to believe him, I thought, coming to a stop behind a gourdin almost opposite Abheron.
“I cannot and will not tolerate such random, vicious violence in my realm,” he continued. “It must come to a stop, and those involved must be punished accordingly.” He didn’t turn his head, or gesture in any way, but I was sure that everyone’s eyes strayed to the example arms behind him.
“The ringleaders of the rebels are here in this city, at this very moment. They call themselves patriots. They claim to serve you, the people of Ruan. If that is the case, then their consciences will not allow them to cause these innocent children’s deaths. They will do what I have ordered: give themselves up now, and release Zahira Elfenesh and Sorin Mesgao. If they do not, your children will pay the price of that cowardice. I hope you will know, then, who to blame for their deaths.” He stopped, letting the silence hang.
Everything was still, save the wind that swept across the square. The pennants behind Abheron snapped sharply in the quiet.
“Very well.” Abheron nodded to one of the gourdin next to the cart.
The soldier turned and began unlatching the back of the wooden conveyance. His movements were slow and reluctant; it was one thing to kill in the heat of battle, or to execute adults, but this was something else. Finally he pulled down the cart gate and grabbed the closest child, a pretty little Sedorne girl of about five. A horrified gasp went up from the crowd. The gourdin hesitated, and instead reached for an older boy, whose dark hair and skin identified him as Rua. There was a low hiss of anger from the Rua in the crowd, and a wail of sorrow from someone on the other side of the square. The gourdin again hesitated.
I looked at Abheron to see what he thought of this, but he wasn’t watching the soldier. His eyes were scanning the crowd. For the first time, I thought I saw a hint of anxiety in his pose. He was sure we’d give in, I thought. Now he’s not so confident. He underestimated us too…
A second gourdin, impatient with the first one’s indecisiveness, grabbed the Rua boy, swinging him out of the cart. There was another wail. A low, angry murmur filled the air; the crowd shifted forward, pressing against the human wall of gourdin. The soldiers reached for their weapons.
Abheron called out, “Take heed of this. This is what your resistance have brought you to.”
I dropped to my hands and knees and shot through the gap between the gourdin’s legs. He grabbed for me a fraction too late, his gauntleted hands closing over the thick folds of my cloak. I threw myself forward, and with a wrench at my shoulders and the noise of tearing cloth, I was free. I rolled and came up on my feet inside the perimeter of guards, in front of Abheron’s horse.
“No,” I said. “This is what having a tyrant and a madman for a king has brought us to.”
The crowd roared with surprise and relief as they realized who I was. Abheron’s face relaxed and he waved the gourdin behind me back.
“You’re somewhat late, my dear,” he said. “I’m willing to forgive you, since you have justified my faith in your nature so admirably.” He dismounted and handed the horse’s reins to a guard. Facing me, he made a production of looking around. “However, I’m surprised not to see your husband with you. And what of your other little friends? I did specifically request their company. It seems rather rude of them to let you come to give yourself up alone.”
“That’s because I haven’t come to give myself up,” I said. I stepped back, pitching my voice to carry to the crowd. “Abheron Luminov, by the old laws of the Sedorne, I challenge you here before your people to a duel of kingship. Either accept and prove that you deserve the crown you wear, or refuse and brand yourself a coward unworthy of the throne.”
This time the outburst of noise came not only from the crowd. The gourdin cried out in shock, clattering their armour – but they stayed back, adhering to the laws of the duel which I had just invoked. I felt my face splitting in a fierce grin of triumph.
Abheron was so surprised that for a moment he actually gaped at me. Then he laughed, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Ridiculous child,” he said. “You can’t challenge anyone.”
“Oh yes, I can. By publicly declaring yourself willing to accept me as your heir, you’ve shown that I am equal to a man, and have all the same rights as one. That’s the law.”
The amusement started to fade from his face. “A king is above the law.”
“Not this one,” I said firmly. “Not this time.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
The wind blew stray wisps of reddish hair around his forehead. “I won’t fight you.”
“I’m not giving you a choice.” I drew my sword. The long, lethally curved blade slid from its scabbard with a quiet hiss. I prayed that it wouldn’t shake in my hand as I lifted it.
“That’s a big knife, my dear,” he said, mocking now. “Take care you don’t cut yourself with it.”
The feel of the leather-wrapped hilt under my fingers calmed me. I flicked the sword through a complex pass, the blade moving with ease that spoke of long practice.
“Don’t worry,” I replied evenly. “I’ll be careful.”
The amusement was completely gone from his face now. “Stop this foolishness. Any fight between us can only end one way – with your death. I have no intention of hurting you, Zahira. You know that. Besides, how can you help your people if you’re dead?”
“Better dead than forced to watch them suffer under your rule, Abheron.”
“You can’t provoke me into losing my temper, Zahira.” He smiled suddenly. “I will not fight you.”
“You don’t have a choice,” I repeated, keeping my eyes firmly on his. I knew that when I did manage to break through his control, the darkness there would warn me first.
I began walking, circling him – forcing him to circle too, to keep me in sight. My sash fluttered at my waist as I moved into the wind, and I tossed my head to get the hair out of my eyes. The rising sun was behind me now, and the light made Abheron’s face appear as white and hard as a picked-clean skull.
“The only reason the people of Ruan tolerate your misrule is because they fear you
,” I said. “If you refuse this challenge, they won’t fear you any more. Every Sedorne in the country will know that you were too frightened to face a woman. Even your own gourdin will no longer respect you. They’ll turn on you – and probably a lot faster than you realize.”
“There’s a flaw in your logic, my dear,” he said confidently as we circled each other. “My gourdin know that, if the desire took me, I could slice any one of them into fine strips without breaking my stride. No Sedorne man would believe for a moment that a mere girl could frighten me. They will simply think I granted you mercy, because you’re a woman and a close relative.”
“I doubt they’ll think that,” I said, suddenly realizing how I could get to him. “You’re not known for showing mercy to your family.”
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. A great drift of cloud swept over the sun, and suddenly we moved in near twilight dimness, the wind wailing around us.
“No witty rejoinder?” I said lightly. “Dear me – that is a disappointment. Let’s recount your mercies, shall we, and see if they loosen your tongue?”
“Zahira—”
“Oh no, this is fun, Uncle. Let’s talk about your mercy to my sister, Indira. She was fifteen when you came to visit us, do you remember? She loved horses, and she liked dancing very much. She used to braid my hair and tell me stories. She’s dead – because of you. My brothers. Do you remember them? Pallav took after our father. He was very kind, and good with his hands. Kiran now, he was more like Mama to look at. He could be impatient sometimes, but he was so clever. They’re both dead too. Because of you.”
“Stop it,” he said tightly.
I was getting through. “Don’t be a bore, Uncle – I’m only just starting. Remember my father? Your brother by marriage, who welcomed you into his home? He was the one you stabbed to death. And let’s not forget my mother. Your beautiful, beloved Emelia. You were very merciful to her. You left her to burn to death in the wreckage of her home, crying over her murdered husband. I’m sure she’d thank you for your mercy.”
His eyes blazed at me out of the shadow, like twin stars. I braced myself. Then the clouds over the sun began to shred away, and the light gradually brightened until I could see the steely control in his face.
“Well-aimed blows, my dear. But not good enough.”
“There’s still someone left, someone we haven’t talked about, Uncle. What about me? Let’s talk about your mercy to me.”
He stared at me, wordless. The light flickered and shifted over his face as more cloud shreds chased across the sky, so that I couldn’t quite fix his expression. He was moving in a perfect unconscious rhythm now, his shoulders tensed, one hand hovering over his sword hilt. I just had to push him over the edge. I felt a shiver of dread and forced it back.
I had to end this.
“First,” I began, “I’d like to thank you for your kind gift of a scarred face, Uncle. Not to mention the revulsion and pity of strangers that come with it – I’ve enjoyed those over the years. What next? Well, leaving aside the fact that I lost my whole family and my home while I was still a child, there was the way you sent hired killers to the House of God and murdered Noirin Surya, the only mother I’d ever known, so that I could watch her die, choking on her own blood. Then you had the mercenaries destroy my home a second time, desecrating the centre of my people’s religion.”
I was panting now, emotion clogging my voice.
“You dragged me here against my will, and poured your sad little story into my ear, searching for sympathy. You threatened to kill my husband, and had my friend beaten almost to death, and now – the crowning achievement – you decide to slaughter innocent children and lay their deaths on my conscience.” I made an ironic bow, sweeping my sword out. “Yes, Uncle. By this accounting, you are merciful indeed.”
I lunged at him, my blade seizing the light and flinging it out as it chopped down towards Abheron’s face. He jerked back just in time and I allowed the momentum to carry me past and back to face him.
“Fight, damn you!” I shouted. “Fight me!”
The sun burst through the clouds and lit his face.
“I’ve admitted responsibility for everything I’ve done. I’ve told you I want to redeem myself, Zahira. Why won’t you let me do that?”
“For God’s sake!” I screamed, despair and exasperation welling inside me. “You can’t be redeemed. Don’t you understand that yet? There’s no hope, no salvation for you. It’s too late. Every action you take only brings darkness and death, and nothing in the world can be right again until you’re dead. One of us has to die here today, Uncle. One of us has to – because I won’t live in a world where you exist. One of us is going to die; I intend for it to be you.”
His chest was heaving now, as if he was fighting for air. A cloud shadow blew slowly across his face, and as it touched the iciness of his eyes I saw the darkness unfolding there, like black wings opening. I felt a razor-edged thrill of fear skitter down my back. I’ve done it now, I thought. God help and protect me; God guide my sword… Oh, God, I’ve really done it now.
I edged back warily. The crowd moved restlessly, but stayed silent.
His eyes seemed glazed, unfocused, as they met mine. He whispered, “So be it.”
He jerked his long, straight sword from its sheath in a movement that spoke of deadly ease, and saluted me with it. Then he came at me, terrifyingly swift and graceful as a dancer. I threw myself to the side just in time and his sword point passed my stomach by a millimetre, tearing a long rent in my tunic. We both fell back, circling again.
Dear God, he’s fast.
I flung my arms out and spun towards him, my curved blade slashing sideways towards his neck. He twisted like a snake to avoid the blow and went in low to thrust at my stomach again. I dodged and used the movement to flip back, kicking my legs up towards his face. I felt my foot connect with a solid thump as the knuckles of my right hand, clenched on the sword, smashed painfully into the stone, ripping the skin. I dropped, rolled and came up to see him nursing a bleeding lip.
First blood to me, I thought, giddy with the pumping of my heart. I brought my blade up in a two-handed clasp and waited.
The wind rushed at us, finding the gaping hole in my tunic and stinging against my grazed knuckles, drying the sweat on my face. He moved towards me, cloud shadows wheeling across his body so that he seemed to warp and shiver, a black flame.
Suddenly he lashed out, his sword coming up in a crescent sweep at my neck. I twisted to avoid the blow and found myself moving into his second, lightning-fast lunge at my side. I parried, but his sword glanced off mine. I gasped as a line of fiery pain flared across my upper arm, and blocked again just in time as his blade lanced towards my face. We locked, hilt to hilt. My arms trembled with the strain as he brought his superior weight and strength to bear on me. His face was only an inch from mine, his breath warm on my cheek.
“Having fun?” he asked calmly.
I wrenched away, avoiding his quick cut at my face more through luck than skill, and swung my sword up to catch his on the down sweep. I twisted my blade round his and threw my shoulder into it. I felt him falter as the hilt shifted in his fingers. Before he could readjust I pivoted round him to deliver a low kick to the back of his knee.
Our swords disengaged with a flash of sparks and he buckled, slashing at my leg as he went down. I jumped his sword and kicked again at his face. His free hand snapped up and caught my booted foot before it could land. I felt the bite of the metal fingers in his glove, then he heaved, pushing me back as he rushed upwards. Unprepared, I fell heavily and rolled sideways. His sword came down next to my face with a shriek of metal. A chip of stone hit me in the cheek, and I felt blood trickle down my face as I rolled again and came to my feet.
He lunged. I danced back, slashed two-handed at his chest – missed – twisted away from a blow to my side, and slashed again, this time at his face. He dodged just in time to avoid losing his eye, but my sword point opened a l
ong gash down his cheek. He grunted with pain and disengaged to circle me, blood running down his face.
“That’s going to leave a scar, you know,” I couldn’t resist taunting.
“Then we’ll be more alike than ever, my dear.”
“I don’t think so, but come closer and I’ll see what I can do.”
Blood from the wound on my arm was trickling steadily down to my elbow. I shook my arm hastily to get rid of it before it reached my hands and then moved in.
I made a sideways slash at his shoulder. He parried. I twirled, bringing the blade towards his chest. He blocked just in time, and we locked again hilt to hilt, my sword point a bare inch from his chest. My shoulders screamed with the strain as I fought to break his grip. I thought I felt his arm give, ever so slightly. Then, to my horror, I realized it wasn’t his arm but mine.
The blood from my arm had welled down and reached my hand. The hilt of my sword was sliding. I hung on desperately, but my grip faltered. He could feel it.
I saw his lips stretch in a terrifying grin, and then he was throwing his weight forward. The sword slipped from my blood-slick palm and flew away, landing with a clatter behind me. The metal of his gauntleted hand smashed into my face. My head snapped back and for an instant everything went black as I fell.
Then I hit the ground and cried out with pain as my skull bounced off the stone. I opened my eyes to the swirling sky and Abheron’s face as he leaned over me, his sword point resting on my chest like a lead weight. My breath scraped deafeningly in my ears.
I’m going to die. Now. I’m really going to die.
I closed my eyes and lay still, waiting for him to end it. Please, Holy Mother, watch over Sorin and Deo and Mira and the baby… The excruciating weight of the sword grew heavier as he slowly pushed down. My skin opened and blood spilled out, trickling over my chest. I gritted my teeth against the pain – oh, God, forgive me for failing – and jerked as the blade grated against my breastbone. Please take care of Sorin; I love him. A tortured noise of agony burst out of my lips and I opened my eyes to meet the glazed shadows of his as he killed me.
