by SM Blooding
Not that I thought I’d lose. I knew I’d win. Mostly.
Doubt nagged at me. I’d survived the last two seasons, practically the last year, because I’d surrounded myself with people who had my back and who were smarter than me. I’d survived because I’d learned to trust them.
What if I found during these trials that I didn’t have what it took? That the people I’d surrounded myself with were my real strength and that I was nothing more than a powerful Mark?
I’d deal with that when and if that moment arrived.
“Synn.” Haji shoved my arm.
I smiled and shoved back.
“Are you with me now?”
I nodded, giving him my full attention.
People pressed all around us. Music came at us from two directions. The arena was a large space, the largest single space I’d ever seen used on a lethara before.
Torches flickered in the wind, though Kala was still in the sky. The sun’s light was diminished by the massive medusa and the fact that night was setting in.
A man on stilts and a long coat walked by us, his long arms brushing over my head.
I laughed, watching him pass. In all my life, I’d never seen anything like this.
A woman called out to us, a violin in hand, her dark hair pulled back. Her hands were wrapped in strips of purple material, her red shawl patched. “Let me play your heart song.”
Haji pushed us passed that and into a makeshift tent, the poles tied down to the planks of the floor.
We’d found one of the sources of music. A band sat at the front on a short stage, their instruments banged up and dented, gleaming only in spots. But it didn’t matter. They played songs my feet were eager to follow.
The area in front of the stage had been cleared for dancers, but all around that were tables. Some had card and dice games going. Others were crowded with men and women getting drunk.
Haji raised two fingers.
I couldn’t see who he’d flagged down. “I probably shouldn’t stay long, Haj.”
“Nonsense.” He clapped my back. “It looks to me as though you are starting down the path of somberness and dreary dispositions. This might be the last chance you have for real fun.”
I smiled and shook my head. What was the harm in having one ale with my friend?
Well, one turned to three which turned to . . . I’m not quite sure. The suns had long set and Kel’mar was barely peaking over the horizon. The only lights were the flickering torches, their smoke filling the air.
We played dice, something I’m fairly good at. The trick was to stay in the perfect window of drunkenness. Too little and you’d fall out of it. Too much, and you’d tip right over.
Like the burly man beside me.
“Whooooa!” I laughed along with everyone else at the table. I was good and sloshed, teetering on the edge, ready to follow the man drooling on the floor. I rubbed my eye and picked up the dice, tossing them on the table.
The men around me groaned.
I laughed, reeling the coins to me.
“I think he cheats,” someone said in Gearnam, a language I hadn’t spoken in a long time.
“How does one cheat at dice?” I asked him in his own language.
He swayed. Or maybe it was me. I’m not entirely sure. “I think you be using your Mark.”
I threw back my head and laughed. “You think I’m using my . . . ” I stood up and pulled at the sash over my shoulder, tugging at my shirt.
Haji crowed. “The El’Asim is stripping for the ladies.”
“I’m not stripping,” I said with a lopsided grin. “But I just washed this shirt and I’m running out.”
The man beside me raised droopy eyelids. “The El’Asim is running out of shirts?” he asked in Nefertarian. “Surely the world is coming to an end.”
I snorted, pulling my shirt tails from my pants. “If you’d lived through what I have, you’d understand why shirts are a luxury not to be . . . ” I blinked, my shirt half off. “I seem to have lost my word.”
“Perhaps your Nefertarian is slipping,” the man beside me said with a grin.
I joined him in it. “Perhaps.” I succeeded in wrestling my shirt off.
The men around me made noises of surprise.
I raised a finger and stumbled where I stood. “There is a thing about these Marks.” They looked like thick, black tattoos in tribal patterns as they traveled up my abdomen, chest, shoulders, back, arms, hands and neck. “They’re not really great with the dice.”
The men fell back as my Marks rose with a steaming hiss. Black became orange whips of lava lightning.
With a grinning, tired expression, I pulled one whip and attempted to turn a dice.
It burst into flame.
Laughing, I pulled my Mark back and sat down, holding my head up with one hand. I wasn’t quite sure if I was one beer under where I should be or one beer over. When in doubt, though, it was always good to go over.
Haji handed me a fresh ale as I slipped my shirt back over my head to a reign of silence.
The man on the other side of me fell off his stool. Laughing, his friends took him under his arms and carried him away, all the while sending me furtive glances.
I mentally kicked myself. I hadn’t intended to kill the party.
“Those are pretty impressive, sayyd.”
I blinked. Maybe I closed my eyes, but I was trying to find the person who’d said that. I knew all the people who would call me lord, especially in my own language, but I didn’t recognize that voice.
He turned out to be a tall man with pale brown hair and a pointed beard, his top lip free of facial hair. His clothes were nondescript and I couldn’t tell by looking at him who his Family was or what manner of man he might be.
“Do I know you?”
He shook his head and offered a well-manicured hand. “My name is Iszak Tokarz.”
I took his hand and saluted my mug of ale at him. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
The other man still at the table yawned and rubbed his face. “Should we order another round?”
I frowned at his blurry face. For some reason, the dirt seemed out of place on him. His hands were too well-kept for the dirt along his face and clothes to fit. “Sir, are you a spy?”
He grinned. “No. I am a journalist.”
I pulled back in surprise. “What in the world is a journalist?”
“Someone who spreads the truth to the peoples.”
I thought about that. “That sounds like a very good idea, sir. And do you spread the real truth or your version of it?”
“I try for honest truth.”
I nodded and nearly fell into the table. I was not holding my liquor well at all. Tomorrow was going to be aweful. I had a hard time focusing . . . or remembering who was at the table, or why I was still there. “Journalist, I did not catch your tribe.”
He offered his arm. “I thought we were no longer in search of a pedigree.”
I looked around the spinning room. “You are correct. We are not. But I am used to hearing a name and knowing what language to speak in order to show my respect.”
Arik raised his eyebrows, his lips rising with them. “I come from the Klar Fleet.”
I’d never heard of that one.
“And we speak Keltak.”
“I have a friend who would probably love to talk to you. She hasn’t spoken her own language in years.”
He bowed his head. “Is she one of the survivors of the Hands?”
That brought a moment of sobriety to the table. “Yes.”
Iszak took in a deep breath and leaned onto the table. “What are we planning to do with the Hands, sayyd?”
I raised my eyebrows and stared at my mug. I saw Haji’s red hat maneuvering in the crowd with four mugs held high over his head. I was pretty sure I had met my limit. No more ale for this one. I’d have to be carried back. “I suppose we make peace with them.”
Iszak leaned onto the table. “After all they have don
e?”
“What would you have us do? Slaughter them without provocation?”
“Like they did to us?”
I looked at Iszak with a frown. “What Family are you from?”
His expression darkened as he looked away. “It does not matter. Families do not matter. I am here to prove my right to lead and that is all.”
I pulled back as Haji arrived, dispersing the ale. Something about this man had my hackles up, but I was too drunk to figure out what.
Haji raised an eyebrow in question.
I waved him off. The conversation was starting to sober me up. That was a good thing.
Arik watched me through his eyelashes. I was suddenly aware I wasn’t in the safety of friends. I had no idea who these two men were, or what their motives were.
Iszak ran his finger and thumb down his jaw. “So it is your thought to simply make peace with the same people who destroyed us.”
“Are you Bahrain?”
Iszak didn’t move, didn’t twitch. He wasn’t Bahrain.
“Umira?”
There. He twitched. Though I’d never met an Umira with Iszak’s coloring.
Haji narrowed his dark eyes. “I don’t know you.”
“You don’t know all your people, Umira Haji Nuru.”
It was apparent he knew Haj. Interesting.
“Which tribe would you lead if you win?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow and turned away.
The room spun a little less as my head cleared. I took in a deep breath, glancing at Haji as I sat up.
Iszak turned to me. “What makes you think you’re the best leader we could have? What gives you the right or the power to lead us in this new age?”
My head cleared. “Honestly, I don’t. If there is someone stronger, more adept than me, then I will forfeit the leadership to another.”
The other man’s smile was smug.
“But you need to ask yourself if you’re strong enough to wrestle with the Great Families and the Hands at the same time because, trust me, those women are incredibly strong. They’re not giving up their power without a fight.”
Arik leaned over his beer. “So you’re saying that should someone perform better than you in the trials, that you will not lead whatever it is you’re building?”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t believe you. Why else would you invite us all here? You’re creating the largest military force our world has ever seen. Why would you build that and then give it to someone else?”
“I’m not building a military. I’m giving everyone a voice.”
Arik pulled away, his hand cupped around his mug.
I turned to the journalist. “There is a reason I am competing. In order for this to work, it has to be fair to everyone, and everyone will need a chance.”
“But surely you rigged these tests for your success.”
“I don’t know what they are, or what we’ll be experiencing. I only know that the arena will show not only who is more powerful—” I gestured to my Mark now hidden under my shirt. “—but who is a better leader, tactician, creator, problem solver, who’s more adaptable.”
Something shone in Arik’s eyes. “Why would you do that?”
I cleared my throat and pushed my untouched ale away. “I was put into this position of power because of birthright and because of this—” I let my Mark rise around my neck, sizzling in the air as it became a living thing. “But does that make me a good leader?” I shook my head and stood. “I don’t know that.”
A corner of Arik’s lips rose as he nodded.
Iszak stood, offering his hand. “Then I will see you in the arena.”
I grasped his hand. “Indeed.”
I pushed away from the table, Haji at my side, and walked through the crowd of drunken people toward my rooms. This just got real.
CHAPTER 15
SURVIVAL
Those of us competing were told to go to the lists. I’d seen the lists the day before. It had been maybe two pages long.
It was easily three times that now.
For today’s activities, we broke into four groups; land, air, sea and lethara. I was afraid they would have me in the letharan group. Yes, I commanded one, but it was more like guiding because I had no idea how one really worked. When those I trusted said we needed to dive deeper, I did what they recommended. Or when the tides were red with poison I could see, I knew to get out.
The lists had me on the Yusrra Samma. I grinned. I would be competing on the ship I’d grown up on, the one I’d cut my leadership teeth on. The nerves running through me subsided a little.
Ryo’s name was among those competing for airman. I searched, but couldn’t find him in the mob. I had my assignment, so I pushed my way through the crowd to the docks eighteen levels below.
All the elevator platforms were busy, so I opted to use the bridges. It turned out to be faster. Several other competitors decided to take the same path. Most of the areas we passed through had been cleared of buildings and anything not needed for the games, which made movement easier. Especially when there were so many of us competing.
The docks were organized chaos. Those of us competing for airman were shuffled to the side while those competing on the water took to the docks, which touched the choppy surface of the ocean.
So close to the edge of the lethara, his medusa far above us, we could feel the raging storm. Winds buffeted with water spray. Perfect day for a survivability test.
The seamen took to their boats, which looked so like airships, it was amazing. As soon as they were off, the letharan docked, most about the same age as my own. They were hard to tell apart, but there was the flag of my Fleet; red with a black spitfyre falcon, his wings spread. Who was competing on my lethara?
Then, I remembered with a flinch. Oki. Mother had grudgingly allowed her heir to enter the competition, but only after my sister told her she was going to enter with or without our mother’s approval.
Someone elbowed me in the ribs. I looked up to see Ryo’s smiling face. He wore the garb of the El’Asim.
I shook my head, laughing. “How did you get this past Mother?”
He raised an eyebrow as he watched the letharan launch into the ocean. “Oki is competing for Ino City, and I told Mother I didn’t want to be its protector.”
I choked on my spit, my head pulsing with the sudden movment. “That, uh, doesn’t sound like the full story.”
He winced. “If I fail as an airman, as she’s sure I will, then I am to lead Oki’s military.”
That sounded more like Mother. I offered him my fist. “Then I wish you the best of luck.”
He met my fist with his own. “Thank you because that means I’m applying as leader of your fleet.”
My stomach twisted. “I haven’t decided what to do with it.”
“Precisely. This might help you.”
“Hmm.” I’d never actually been tested as a leader of the Fleet. I just assumed that I’d be a natural. Now, with my brother by my side fighting for the right to command my fleet, I was faced with the stark reality of what I’d committed to. If Zara married an airman, she’d have the fleet. If Ryo won, he’d have the fleet. I was pushing myself out of the one place I felt most at home.
Dear Sky, what had I set into motion? I scanned the storm line. For metres and metres, it was nothing by dark, boiling clouds.
“Who’s your ship?” I asked.
He looked down at me through the corner of his eye, folding his arms over his chest. “Since you got the Yusrra Samma, I got the Zarifa Samma.”
I smiled with a nod. Graceful Sky. “She’s a very good ship.”
He nodded. “I oversaw the loading of Joshua’s tech into her last night.”
Bile rose in the back of my throat. I’d been drinking and he’d been preparing. Oh Sky. I was going to fail.
He clapped my shoulders. “Trust me. You’ll be fine. You already know Joshua’s technology and I made sure the Yusrra Samma was fully equipped.”<
br />
I sighed. “It sounds as though you should already be the Fleet captain.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Yes. It does.”
The letharan dipped into the ocean and disappeared under the surging waves.
There was a surprising number of landmen. I hadn’t realized so many tribes lived on land. I’d always assumed that the best way to remain mobile was in the air or sea. If they’d found places like Peacock Rock, where surviving the long and brutal winter wasn’t an issue, then I could understand. I still had a hard time fathoming how they could survive when the art of enduring our seasons was to be in constant movement. They were loaded onto a lethara and then they, too, were gone, leaving only the airmen.
Ino City rose until the churning ocean lay far below. For all that I loved my airship, I was still mind-boggled at the flexibilities of the letharan, capable of flying, surfing, and swimming fully submerged. Not for the first time, I wondered if the most strategic place for me to live was in Asim City.
When we’d gained enough altitude, our ships docked. They stayed fairly close to the docks, though in this wind, there was no way of truly mooring them. There were so many tribes I’d never met, ships I’d never seen. I needed to see them in the air.
Iszak Tokarz tapped my elbow. “Synn El’Asim.”
I turned my attention back to the dock, waiting for the order to approach. “I didn’t realize you were an airman.”
“You guessed my heritage as the land-loving Umira,” he leaned in to say over the crash of the rain, “but not my background.”
I narrowed my eyes, my lips tight. “Good luck then.”
A slight curled his lips. “And to you as well.”
My gut twisted, telling me something was wrong. What, though? Why did that man?
At last, we were given the nod to move onto the docks. I couldn’t tell the origin of the man standing before us. His pants ballooned out at sharp angles, tucked into gray boots. His heavy, sky blue vest was tied into place with white lacings, and his white shirt sleeves were plastered to his arms as the wind carried the rain to us. He pulled back his salt and pepper hair, though with the extreme winds, strands of it still escaped.
