by B. T. Narro
“Aye.”
When the priest finished, the crowd applauded without enthusiasm. Cedri leaned forward to whisper through clenched teeth. “This is totally reprehensible! Two brothers killing each other to see who gets to rape a woman?”
Shara put her hand on Cedri’s leg. “I know, but be quiet.”
“How far do you need to be to use psyche?” Neeko asked as the applause quieted. Perhaps she could sway the mind of the victor to avoid choosing her or Shara.
“Ten yards.”
So it was a similar range to controlling pyforial energy.
“These two men will now drink from the blessed water,” the priest announced, gesturing at Colin to go first.
He had a long drink, the dark liquid spilling down the sides of his chin.
Neeko heard a child somewhere behind him say, “I wonder what it tastes like.”
His parents whispered some reply, too soft for Neeko to understand. Probably telling the boy whatever they can so that he won’t be too curious.
After the younger brother drank next, the two combatants bowed to each other. There was no expression of love, nothing to show they were brothers besides the same square shape of their jaws. They walked to the center of the arena. Colin was first to draw his two-handed sword from his sheath. Rebel followed suit, and they began to circle each other.
Cedri put her face into her hand, but Shara swiftly pulled it away. “Need to watch. Rules.”
Colin trotted toward his younger brother, swinging from one side to the other as Rebel danced backward, blocking each advance. Then Rebel spun, putting himself out of reach.
“Come on!” Colin yelled. “Don’t draw this out.”
“Then attack if you’re so eager.”
Colin grunted as he swung, his sword slapping Rebel’s away so he could go for a lunge. Rebel deflected it and thrust his shoulder into Colin’s breastplate.
The older brother eased back, a low laugh rumbling out of his throat. He sheathed his sword and undid the straps of his armor at his shoulder with a few flicks of his wrist. “The gods can be very impatient. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
Rebel kept his sword ready, as if expecting a trick.
Colin looked offended. “You would attack me in armor after I removed mine?” He tossed his breastplate far out of reach. “What’s the point in protection if the gods have already chosen one of us?”
Rebel drove his sword into his sheath as if angry and embarrassed. He hurried to remove his armor.
Soon both brothers had only their swords. Their dance began again. Colin charged with a flurry of attacks, all blocked except for the kick to his brother’s shin at the end.
Rebel winced and stumbled backward while Colin advanced. Their swords locked, each man trying to guide his blade into the other’s flesh. Both weapons came close to Rebel’s hip, then slid back to slice at Colin’s neck.
Colin spun out. “Close,” he said calmly. Then he charged, bringing his sword down with an aggressive overhead swing. Not expecting such force, Rebel crumbled beneath his pitiful block, and his brother’s sword lodged into his shoulder. Rebel screamed as Colin slid the blade out, taking flesh and blood with it.
The air became dense with worry as the crowd muffled their gasps. Neeko was too focused on Priest Elbick to wonder for more than a moment why the citizens of Wertisall wanted the younger brother to win. He needed the priest to come closer, but it didn’t seem as if he would be moving until the battle was over.
And then will he leave through the tunnel? Neeko would have no chance if that was the case. He needed to think of something.
He had his two swords with him. It would take some luck, but he could throw one at the priest with pyforial energy. If he missed, he still had another chance. But it would be obvious he was the culprit. There was no hope of escape after that.
Rebel, now wounded, moved slower as he tried to defend himself from an onslaught of attacks. Colin hardly worried about defending himself, putting his whole body into each massive swing.
Giving up on figuring out what to do about the priest for the moment, Neeko watched Rebel narrowly avoid impalement over and over. It was only a matter of time.
Shara took his hand. Neeko could feel her sadness deep in his chest. The emotion fell to his stomach as Colin’s blade pierced his brother’s other shoulder.
Rebel fell backward and struggled to regain his feet. Colin came down on top of his brother, driving the point of his sword straight into Rebel’s heart. He pulled it out just to push it in once more.
Then Rebel didn’t move.
There was no applause. Shara let go of Neeko’s hand and clutched her stomach. She looked as if she might be sick. Cedri was shaking her head, her eyes moist.
Neeko stared at the grotesque scene and couldn’t help think of Swenn killing Eizle. Anger burned away his sadness. It turned into fury as Colin slowly turned to peruse the crowd while wearing a smug grin.
The women in the audience noticeably slouched, Shara and Cedri included.
“The gods have chosen,” the priest announced. “Now the victor will select the seminal.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SHARA
As Colin’s gaze glided over to Shara, she could see only Swenn leering at her. Her breath caught in her chest and she barely resisted the urge to run. She shuddered as Colin continued to ogle her, and a horrid taste filled her mouth.
Stop, look away, choose someone else!
But now he was walking toward their section of seating.
A sudden fear came that he liked nervous or shy women. Should I scowl at him? She tried, but her face was frozen by fear.
“You, stand up,” Colin called out.
Shara’s heart threatened to stop as she glanced back at him. She wanted to jump on Neeko’s back and fly out of the arena. She grabbed Neeko’s hand with such force she felt him wince.
“Let me see you,” Colin called again. “Stand up.”
Whispers skittered around Shara’s ears as she refused to stand.
“Black hair,” Colin said, now clearly irritated. “Fifth row.”
Fifth row—Shara felt as if she could breathe again. She was on the third.
The priest had come to Colin’s side at the edge of the arena. He pointed while wearing an inappropriate smile, as if overjoyed at Colin’s choice. “Stand, young woman.”
Shara could hear everyone shifting for a glimpse of the possible “seminal.” She was the last to look, finding a frightened young woman not much older than her with straight hair as black as night behind her pale face.
“You’re the progeny of the duke, aren’t you?” Colin asked.
The duke…what do I know about him? Her mind worked quickly, recalling everything instantly. Before Priest Elbick came to rule Wertisall, this city was governed by Jarriston Affligate, a young man with more royal blood than brains. He wasn’t so young anymore, Shara saw, as he jumped up and threw a protective arm around his daughter.
“She’s only nineteen and she’s already been promised to a nobleman in the capital,” the duke protested. “The wedding is next month!”
“The victor can choose whoever he likes,” the priest retorted, doing slightly better at hiding his grin.
Of course, Shara realized, the duke and the ruling priest have been in political strife ever since the change in leadership. She hadn’t read anything about a rebellion, but she knew enough history to be certain there must’ve been rumors the duke planned to regain control, even if it was just by winning the king’s favor and whispering in his ear.
“And I choose the little blackberry.” Colin swayed his shoulders and hips in a slow, sensual dance. “I’ll be gentle…at first.”
The audience reacted to the unsavory comment, scoffing and groaning. The priest slashed his hand through the air to show his displeasure and silence the army officer.
The poor woman had begun to cry, though she seemed embarrassed about it, quickly wiping away her tears as she remained standing.
> “Please,” the duke begged the priest. “I’ll do anything.”
“The gods want the blessed man to choose the seminal, and there are no exceptions.”
Something startled both Priest Elbick and Colin, for they turned to stare at something between them as they jumped back.
“What is that?” Colin blurted.
Then Shara noticed it, a bubble of clear pyforial energy distorting the ground within the arena. She heard a faint grunt from Neeko as it moved quickly toward Colin, and then she lost sight of it.
His heavy sword slid out of its scabbard. Neeko remained still while everyone else gasped and jumped up.
“Pyforial energy!” Colin yelled as he tried to grab his sword out of the air. But Neeko’s mind was too quick. He turned the blade and drove it straight through Priest Elbick’s neck.
Gurgling, the priest stumbled and fell to his knees. Five men came running from the other side of the arena, some of them screaming for healers. The whole audience came to its feet as the priest gasped for a breath that wouldn’t come.
Neeko remained seated, every muscle tense. Shara pulled him up by his shirt so he would match everyone else.
The five men who’d jumped into the arena surrounded the priest as a few more came to join the cluster. A man who must’ve been a healer pushed through and disappeared among them.
Everyone watched, waiting.
Slowly, the men began to part and the priest was revealed, his hands up around his chest as if reaching for the sword lodged in his neck, his eyes still open.
“Someone among you did this!” one of the men yelled, thrusting out his arm in Neeko’s direction. A few other men standing over the priest removed their coats to cover his body.
Surprisingly, Shara had felt more anguish watching Rebel die than she did watching Neeko take Priest Elbick’s life. She’d always thought guilt and shame would haunt her for assisting in murder. But all she cared about now was getting out of this wretched city.
“It had to be someone over here!” the same man yelled, his arms wildly gesturing. “There’s a short range to py energy. Lock the gate. No one leaves the stadium until we find the mage.”
Noise broke out across the arena. Archers and swordsmen were called to the center by this man who’d taken charge. Mages joined the small army of men around the priest’s body. It looked as if they were about to be questioned. But then they separated and joined the other army men in yelling at the crowd for silence.
“Any ideas?” Neeko asked.
“I have the smoke substance Steffen gave me,” Shara replied, “but I don’t know how we’ll get out with the gate closed.”
Cedri leaned in. “Just wait. They can’t keep the population of an entire city locked in here forever. Eventually they’ll open the gate.”
They could say no more, for the stadium had grown quiet.
“Maxwell, isn’t the duke’s daughter a mage?” someone asked the man who’d taken charge.
“Yes, that’s right.” Maxwell glared with furious eyes, looking at the woman no differently than if she’d admitted she’d done it. “Why else would you train when you have no intention of fighting?” he called to her.
“She’s a bastial mage,” the duke said. “She has no skill with pyforial energy and has never desired any.”
Maxwell continued to stare at her as if he didn’t hear the duke. “Speak for yourself, young woman.”
She seemed as if she might faint as she clutched her father, her face blanched.
“What’s her name?” Maxwell asked his men.
Colin stood among them, looking confused and angry as though he wanted to demand something but he didn’t know what.
Maxwell’s men said something too quietly for Shara to hear. Then Maxwell turned back to the woman, slightly more calm. “Arrieta, are you going to lie to me?”
“No,” she replied in a weak voice.
“Louder. I can’t hear you.”
“She will tell the truth,” the duke said. “She did not do this.”
“If you speak for her one more time—”
“I am the duke! I may not have authority over Priest Elbick, but I do over you.”
“I am running this investigation!” Maxwell screamed. “You have no authority until it’s over. Now if you speak for your daughter again, I’ll remove you from her.”
Arrieta called out, “I will not lie.” Her voice was louder, though it held no more confidence than it did previously.
“You didn’t want to be the seminal, did you?” Maxwell accused.
“I’m already promised to another man. My marriage is important to the future of our family.”
“But carrying a blessed child is important to the future of all of Sumar. Do you care about the will of the gods?”
“I…do care.” She didn’t seem to want to elaborate, speaking each word as if it were painful.
“You don’t sound like you care.” Maxwell shot a look at the hundreds behind him, all wielding weapons, before turning back to her. “The only person who would kill our priest would be someone who doesn’t care about the gods.”
“I do care!” Arrieta repeated. “I would never hurt anyone. I don’t know how to use pyforial energy.”
But Maxwell’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’m being truthful!” she choked out between sobs.
Shara could see Neeko tensing. She would’ve paid a dalion for his thoughts. Would he let Arrieta take the blame for this?
Shara considered the smoke potion in her bag. Horse piss. I’ll have to mix two bottles together, and then the smoke takes time to build. It would be too obvious.
“You must at least question others,” the duke called down to Maxwell. “There are hundreds around us that might’ve done it.”
One of the archers who’d escorted Shara came to bow before Maxwell. “May I speak?”
“Yes.”
He straightened his back, then pointed straight at Shara, causing a shiver up her spine. “I brought those three into this arena. They’re from Sastien Village. The light-haired young man told us they came to see the priest. I believe they should be questioned as well.”
Maxwell seemed upset by the news as he stared up at the three of them. “Who, exactly?”
“They know who they are.” The archer faced them. “Stand.”
Shara saw no point in refusing. Cedri and Neeko joined her as worry churned in her stomach.
“Tell us more about why you’re here,” Maxwell demanded.
Shara shook with nervousness. She did not lie well and was even worse at speaking in front of a crowd.
“Speak!” Maxwell ordered.
Neeko took a small step forward. “I’m sorry, we’re still in shock after what happened to Priest Elbick.” He stopped for an appropriate pause, his face full of pain. “We rode all the way from Sastien Village to speak with him. We knew we might only see him from afar, but that was enough. As you probably know, there’s no priest in our village. The three of us are dedicated to our faith, and we’ve saved money for months for this trip. I still can’t believe what happened.” He shook his head. “I’m Jon.” He pointed across to Cedri. “This is my sister, Jane.” Then he took Shara’s hand. “This is Sarah, my lady. Both of them have some skill with bastial energy, and I have some skill wielding short swords, but none of us are pyforial mages.”
Maxwell already looked convinced, looking at Neeko as if proud of him. Perhaps psyche had some involvement? “We welcome you to our city. It’s nice to know there are those who have faith as deep as yours, who were willing to travel here just for a chance at meeting Priest Elbick. Would you explain what you hoped to gain from speaking with him?”
Neeko glanced at Shara, some of his confidence draining from his face. He’d taken care of the most difficult part, though, and she was finally ready to lie.
“It was my idea,” she answered. “Sumar is in need of help right now because the Northern king has disallowed sacrifi
ces to the god of life. The only guidance we have as to what to do comes from a single book about the rules of zuji that is, unfortunately, written for children. There are villagers who offer religious guidance, but there’s too much disagreement between them about the proper way to pray and sacrifice in these dire times. We seek counsel.” She turned her head, pretending to look abashed. “And if we couldn’t speak with Priest Elbick, at least we could tell the others that we saw him. It would earn us respect from our elders.” She made a face as if she’d been betrayed. “It must’ve been a spy for the North who killed him! They must not get away with this atrocious act.”
“And you two, next to Jane.” Maxwell pointed at the older man and woman holding hands a short distance from Cedri. “What are your names?”
They answered, then Maxwell followed with questions about their beliefs and their previous encounters with the priest. Then he called for assistance from the audience, looking for anyone who could either attest or refute their claims. No one volunteered to speak, so Maxwell moved to the next person along their row, and then the next.
After an hour of this, nearly every child Shara saw in the audience had fallen asleep, and many adults as well.
“I’m going to use the smoke potion,” Shara whispered. “But it will take time to find in my bag and mix, then even more time for the smoke to spread. I’ll need you to provide a distraction.”
“What do you propose?” Neeko asked.
“Is there anything you can do with py?”
“Nothing without high risk.” He paused. “And nothing that would be sure to work.”
“Just wait,” Cedri hissed. “There will be a distraction when they choose a culprit.”
“But if they choose one of us,” Shara argued, “I won’t have the chance I need. As soon as I open my bag, they’ll shoot me.”
“They won’t choose us.” Cedri sounded confident. “It will be Arrieta; I can feel it. Just wait until then.”
Shara give Neeko a look, waiting for his opinion.
“I can’t let anyone die for this.”
Her body went hot with fear. Neeko had many strengths, but considering every option before acting wasn’t one of them.
