Warrior Class_Sky Cutter

by S. L. Kassidy

  ***

  Dorian folded his arms across his chest and tapped his fingers against his biceps, the dark linen of his long, yellow tunic sleeve scratching at his arm. The soles of his sandals sounded hollow as he paced. Barbarians apparently had less respect for time than they did for human life. The banquet he had prepared had grown cold and the nobles who had been ready to pounce on the damned savages were now bored to tears and ready to return home. Even the sun was preparing to leave.

  Dorian hissed. “Where the hell is this so-called ‘royal official’ or whatever the hell they referred to it as?”

  Just as he turned, a woman—a girl really—dropped in front of him, as if she fell from the ceiling. Taking a step back, Dorian took in the intruder to decide how to react. Clad in black from head to toe, she didn’t have on shoes, only wraps around her feet. She was slight with a dusty complexion, skin much too hard for a woman. The sides of her head were shaved bald with tattoos of what appeared to be a roaring lion and a crescent moon. Feathers hung from a few odd braids in her otherwise wavy, wild hair. She watched him with a glint in dark, dangerous sepia eyes.

  Before Dorian could demand to know who she was, he heard a grunt from behind her. Glancing around her, he saw a young man tangled in a thin rope. His arms flapped and his legs twisted.

  “Uh…little help, sweetie?” he squeaked.

  The woman groaned and rolled her eyes. Suddenly, a blade appeared in her hand. She tossed it behind her without looking, cutting the rope. The young man dropped to the floor with a thud. He grunted on impact, falling in a heap of black cloth.

  “Thanks…” The tile and his cloak muffled his voice.

  She merely shrugged, as if his plummet meant nothing to her. He scurried to her side, dusting himself off. He was only a little taller than the girl. His hair was also short, wavy, and decorated with feathers. He was a mess in baggy, odd garments and no shoes. It was unbelievable these two lightweights would be there for the Roshan Empire, but that was the only way to explain them. These were kids, not blood-thirsty savages. Or maybe even the youngsters of those barbarians were savage.

  From what Dorian could see, they were strange and backwards. After all, why were a boy and a girl dressed in almost identical clothing? to him. Instead of tunics, they wore breeches, like wild hill people. For a moment, Dorian just gawked at them, unsure what to make of their wide-legged pants. The wraps around their feet went up and over the pants, stopping at mid-calf, like high sandal straps, trapping the cloth around their legs. Why are they dressed like this? No civil society lets a man and a woman dress the same, like barbarians. It made no sense to him.

  Dorian recalled this was a Roshan official and despite their uncultured manner, he had to do something with the messenger. He turned to the young man, who wore a golden badge with a sun and half-moon symbol with wings on the side. The badge hung from a sash around his waist.

  “I am Layla Akshay of Tariq and he is Naren of Tiq.” The girl introduced the two of them.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” Dorian said, stepping toward the young man. He offered his hand, but Naren didn’t seem to notice. “There’s a feast ready.”

  “Food!” Naren slapped his hands together and rubbed his palms.

  “Come.” Dorian motioned for Naren to follow him deeper into the banquet hall.

  The nobles’ chatter quieted as Dorian moved into view with the messenger by his side. All eyes were on them, but Naren didn’t seem to notice. He inhaled, taking in the scent of the food. Dorian mentally patted himself on the back. These beasts might be easier to control than I thought if they think with their stomachs.

  Naren’s eyes danced as he wasted no time flopping down on a chaise and digging in. The boy ate shredded chicken and bread without a care. He didn’t even seem to consider the food might be poisoned. Dorian thought the boy had to be stupid or naïve to trust the food was safe. Dorian didn’t trust meals when he dined with close friends. He’d never think to eat anything prepared by an enemy.

  Layla situated herself between Dorian and the Queen’s messenger. Dorian made himself comfortable on the neighboring chaise and waited for Naren to say something. After some minutes, Dorian decided to break the ice, if only to call attention away from the fact that the nobles in the room were staring. Damn fools. Can’t they learn to be subtle?

  “So, how do you like the food?” Dorian asked.

  “It’s great.” Naren’s cheeks were full of pastries. Layla glanced at Naren, but still hadn’t tried any food. She seemed smarter than he was, which Dorian thought was sad. What had the Roshan done to make a girl more aware of her surroundings than someone who worked for their queen? But, then again, these are people who follow a woman, so who knows what sort of sorry beasts they are.

  Naren didn’t make an effort to introduce himself or explain his presence. He just ate. Dorian watched, at a loss for what to do. Layla watched Naren with a hawk-like gaze and occasionally she pushed Naren’s hand away from certain foods. Dorian wondered if she knew those had been ‘specially’ prepared.

  Dorian had some of the food poisoned. Not to kill the messenger, as he was certain that would start a war. No, he wanted to make the messenger sick as proof the gods weren’t with the Roshan in this effort. Added to that, a sick messenger would be easier to manipulate and Dorian would be able to work things out in his favor. From this short interaction, he thought that plan would work, if only Naren ate some of the tainted food.

  “Perhaps, once you’ve had your fill, we can discuss the matters your queen sent you here for,” Dorian said.

  Naren didn’t even bother to look up. Dorian scowled. What the hell was this kid playing at?

  “We can discuss matters now, if you like. I have no plans to eat,” Layla replied. Her voice was low, husky, and snaked its way through the air up his spine. She spoke perfect Kairon.

  Dorian fought the urge to grind his teeth. He had little desire to discuss such matters with a woman. The only reason he hadn’t said anything about her presence was because she was with the representative of the Roshan queen. Now, she dared to address him, as though she would speak for the messenger. He would put her in her place to make sure she didn’t interfere with their talk.

  “You do not need to be his voice. He may speak when he’s ready and we can work things out,” Dorian said.

  Layla sneered. “He’ll eat until there’s nothing left. But I am not here to eat. I’m here to set the Queen’s terms.”

  Dorian was certain he heard wrong or her Kairon wasn’t as good as he first assumed. “What?”

  “I am here to set the Queen’s terms. I am her messenger.” Layla pulled out a medallion that hung around her neck. It had the Roshan royal seal on it. “Some might even say I am her.”

  Dorian almost swallowed his tongue, but managed not to make a sound. This whelp is the Queen’s representative? The Roshan were fools. They followed some demon woman who sent little girls to negotiate terms with me? The element of surprise must have been the only thing that sustained them in this wave of destruction they wrought.

  “These are her terms.” Layla reached behind her and Dorian’s heart raced. Was this little girl here to kill me?

  Dorian was about to call for his guards, but Layla presented him with a scroll before he could utter a sound. She held the parchment up to his face, almost touching his nose with it. It was almost as thick as her arm and was locked with a royal seal.

  “Jumpy, aren’t you?” Layla snickered, as if she knew what he was thinking.

  Dorian growled, but accepted the parchment. He balanced it in his hand. It was heavy, weighted down with some insane woman’s hubris. Does she really think I’ll give whatever she wants? She’s beyond mad. He’d be sure to burn her list of demands with her body when he eliminated the mighty Demon Queen of the Roshan.

  She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t identify. “You have to open it and read it to see what the Queen wants.”

  Dorian sat up s
traight and was again tempted to call the guards. A night or two in his dungeon would knock the smugness out of her. Instead, he studied the scroll again.

  “I’ll need to review it,” he said.

  “The Queen wishes me back by dawn. You have until then. Should I or my companion fail to return, she will slit the bull’s throat and then do the same to you,” Layla replied.

  He gave her a stern look, one that made people heed his words. “I need more time than that.” He squared his shoulders and sat up a little straighter. He towered over the girl. He couldn’t let Roshan queen dictate all things when she wasn’t even present and he wouldn’t let her rule him through some slip of a girl.

  Layla didn’t flinch and maintained eye contact. “Those are the terms.” Her voice remained firm and steady.

  Dorian eyed her even harder. “I’ll have to sit down with my advisors.”

  Layla leaned back. “We’ll be here.” She motioned to the food. “Eating.” She motioned to her companion, who didn’t even glance up from his meal.

  Dorian didn’t bother to excuse himself as he got up and rushed off. Many of the nobles followed after him. He glanced back at Layla, who watched them go, like a cat watching mice. He hurried to escape her gaze.

  Once in a private room, surrounded by guards and nobles, Dorian opened the seal. He read through the contents and shook his head. Slamming the scroll down on an oak table, his palm ached as the smacking sound bounced around room off the marble walls. The nobles scurried like rats to read the words of the Devil’s Daughter.

  “How does she expect us to gather so much gold within the day?” one gasped.

  “We can’t afford that,” another cried.

  “Well, we can’t afford to go to war with her either,” still another said.

  “You men all lack imagination,” Dorian said, his booming voice echoing through the room. He needed all eyes on him. He had the answers.

  “What do you mean, sire?”

  “We will fight them.” Dorian made a fist and punched it into his palm.

  “We don’t have the men to fight them.”

  “Yes, you said so yourself, sire.”

  “And we can’t send a champion. No one would even volunteer for that suicide mission.”

  “There’s no way for us to fight them.”

  Dorian shook his head. “Not now, but we will. We just need time and we can have that. The season of war is coming to an end. They will move on, as they have done, perhaps even return home. While those barbarians sit back, following that woman, we will get to work.”

  “But, sire, they will return eventually. They won’t simply go away, especially if we do not give them this gold.”

  Dorian shook his head. “Again, you lack imagination. When they return, she will panic when she sees the sights of us in the ranks with all of the surrounding city-states.”

  “But, My Lord, we do not have all the surrounding cities with us.”

  Dorian held up a finger. “If we unite and pull together, now that we see she is moving from the coast, we can stop her. I can bring us all together. I just need the time. Imagine the power we would gain if we were the leading city to stop the infection of Roshan scum!” He made two tight fists, flexing his thick biceps. This could be the dawning of a new age for Phyllida and his reign. No, not could be. Will be. I’ll play this perfectly and reign over all of Kairon. I will turn this curse into my blessing.

  “Hear, hear!” The nobles cheered, punching their fists as well.

  “But, how will we buy time for that?” one man asked.

  “Simple. We will give into all of her demands that we are able to and then, to beg for more time, we will offer her something precious as collateral,” Dorian explained.

  “What?”

  “A goodwill hostage to assure her that we’re working to gather the gold she demanded,” Dorian said.

  “And who could we send to assure her that things are going her way?”

  Dorian beamed. “We’ll send my daughter.” He didn’t want any of the nobles to volunteer members of their family for it would give them power over him. Besides, he could control her better than anyone else.

  “Your daughter, sire? You would leave such a perfect young lady with those savages?”

  “It will show that I trust the savage queen and it’s a sign of good faith. This will be the perfect way to bide our time, gentlemen. The perfect way.” He’d stop those barbarians in their tracks and become the most important king of the region. It was his time to shine.

  ***

  Ashni could sense her little princess return before she popped her head into the royal tent. Naren was right behind Layla and went directly for Ashni’s dinner. She glared at him, but it didn’t stop him. It never did. He was immune to it by this point.

  “So much better than that swill they served at the banquet.” Naren moaned, his mouth full of her goat stew and flat bread.

  “Really?” Ashni gave him a flat look. “A royal banquet wasn’t as good as the slop put together in an army camp?” She looked at Layla. “What the hell do you see in this oaf?” She’d never understand why the hell Layla married Naren and part of her never wanted to understand.

  Layla only smiled, like she knew some wonderful secret. “Here’s the terms Dorian agreed to.” She handed a scroll to Ashni.

  The seal was broken. “You read it?”

  Layla nodded. “Yeah. You’ll be fine with it.”

  Ashni took Layla’s word for it. “Good. Go fetch Adira.”

  Layla looked around. “Me?” She pointed to herself.

  “Yes, go.” Ashni waved her away.

  Layla twisted her mouth to one side. “What? I’m not your servant.”

  “You’re a little sister. That’s essentially the same thing. Now, go.” Ashni shooed her away with a flick of her wrist.

  Layla made a face, but was off. By the time she returned with Adira, Ashni had read through the entire document. She flung the parchment at Adira, hitting her right in the face. She guffawed when Adira caught the document as it dropped.

  Adira glowered at her. “You are such a child. What the hell?”

  “Those are his terms,” Ashni said. She reached for some diced apples and smacked her lips before biting into one. Nice and sweet. The flavor danced on her tongue and made her stomach giddy.

  “Princess told me you had this. I’m shocked she didn’t come back and say, ‘oh, so, you know I accidentally killed him, right?’” Adira said.

  “You put money on that, didn’t you?” Ashni grinned.

  “You accidentally kill one guy during negotiations and they never let you forget it.” Layla threw her hands up.

  Adira regarded Layla with a slight tilt of her head. “You do realize, throwing a dart into someone’s head tends to lead to death and also is not an accident.”

  Layla huffed out a loud breath and curled her lip. “Oh, and I’m the only one who’s ever done that?”

  Shaking her head, Adira pointed to Ashni. “No, but since you are her, that just means you did it twice.”

  Ashni sucked her teeth. “That guy had it coming. He was lying to my face, after all. Anyway, back on track. Those are the terms.” She pointed to the scroll.

  Adira read it. “So, you want me to stick around and collect this tribute while you guys pack and head home?”

  “Yes. Also, on your way back, check on the cities we’ve taken. Make sure all our conquests are still under our control. Appoint an official to stay here. I’ve already got a lot volunteers willing to stay behind. Leave a few of your spies behind, too.”

  “I have done this sort of thing before. Anything else?” Adira asked.

  Layla spoke up. “Watch Dorian. Beyond the disrespect he showed me by acting as if Naren was the only one there in an official royal capacity and that he tried to use his size to bully me, he just made my skin crawl. He will screw us the first chance he gets.”

  “Well, then it’s settled,” Ashni declared as she clapped her hand
s. “Our first step into the West is over and we’ve accomplished more than I could ever imagine. Congratulations to me.” Ashni pointed to herself. “Me.” She motioned to Layla. “And…you.” She purposely grumbled as she motioned to Adira.

  Adira sneered at her. Ashni simpered, feeling charged. Her claws were in the West and she’d dig in deep, never letting go. Do you see what I’ve done, Dad? I know you’ve done it with me, but it’s mine.

  Chapter Three

  THE ROAD WAS ROUGH, rougher than the short boat ride Nakia had been forced to endure as she made her way into the Roshan Empire. Or maybe she was there already. She wasn’t sure when the barbarian country began. It was hard to tell what they were grunting about outside, but she was certain she heard the word ‘home’ a few times. They might have been speaking some different, primitive language, but she wasn’t sure. Maybe it’s just because I’m in the palanquin and their voices are muffled, but that doesn’t sound like Kairon.

  They speak Kairon, her father told her in a long speech he gave her as he dared to hand her over to these savages. She was expected to believe him as he told her it would be all right, they wouldn’t harm her, and she was helping keep the city alive. It wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter. He gave an order. She obeyed it, like all of his subjects.

  “You’re a princess. You have a responsibility to help your people and this is a great help. They won’t hurt you.” He told her over and over again how they wouldn’t hurt her, but these were the same people who made Bloody Orchards and scared townspeople so bad they didn’t even fight, just gave the barbarians everything they asked for. These were demons with strange magic and supposedly breathed fire and devoured people. “They won’t hurt you. They wouldn’t dare.” Her father had the gall to look fierce as he spoke those words.