“Teofil hits again!” Stratetix cried. “The man can hurl a spear!”
The riders galloped around the track again and again, with Teo hitting his target each time. He maintained a position close to the front, yet never in the lead.
“The black one is making a move! Look out, Captain!” Ana’s father seemed to think Teo could hear him.
A rider in black pulled alongside Teo’s mount as they rounded a curve at full speed. Each began fighting with his hands, trying to shove the other man off. A rider who dislodged another from the saddle and took over his horse would score many points.
Teo seemed to be defending himself well, when suddenly the other man yanked the reins from his grip. Teo’s horse lurched wildly, arching its neck, its mane flying. At that moment, the man shoved Teo hard, causing him to fall to the side of the galloping horse with one foot twisted in the stirrup. Teo held the pommel with two hands, bouncing awkwardly as the horses churned forward. The other rider seized his opportunity and slammed his mount into Teo’s. It shuddered at the violent impact, and one of Teo’s hands fell free. He flailed, grasping the air, trying to climb back into the saddle.
Oh, hang on! Hang on! Ana clutched her skirts in her fists as she watched the deadly scene unfold.
The attacker was about to send Teo sprawling when, behind him, another competitor leaped from his horse and knocked the man in black from the saddle. The rider hit the dirt hard, cartwheeling until he smashed into a guardrail post, twisting around it in an unnatural position. There was a splotch of red on the white post. The man lay still.
Teo used the free moment to lunge upward and right himself on his horse. Stratetix and Helena cheered. Ana exhaled the breath she had been holding.
On and on the horses raced. Bodies flew as some of the riders knocked others from the saddle. Catapults hurled fireballs, taking down several more men. Teo guided his mount through the barrage, dodging and ducking as best he could. Yet he couldn’t avoid them all. One of the bombs struck him, showering him with sparks and molten pitch.
“He’s hit!” Even Stratetix was horrified. Ana gasped and gripped her father’s hand.
The horses galloped madly down the final straightaway. Only three riders remained in the race. Teo swatted at the flames blazing on his shoulder.
As they drew near the final target, Teo grabbed his last javelin, ignoring his smoldering shirt. He was in second place. A rider was well ahead of him as the finish line approached.
“It’s almost over!” Ana cried. I don’t care if he wins—just let it be over!
What happened next was almost too incredible for Ana to comprehend. A fireball smashed the lead horse and sent it tumbling to the track. At the same moment, the third rider, dressed in crimson, hurled his spear toward the target but missed badly. The errant spear stabbed into the rump of Teo’s mount. At a full gallop, the man in crimson jumped his horse over the fallen one, who had been in the lead. Teo felt his horse’s legs give way. He kicked his feet from the stirrups and sprang toward the crimson rider in midair. Then everything was lost in a cloud of smoke.
The crowd gaped in silence. Ana closed her eyes, not daring to look.
A horse burst from the smoke. The horse belonged to the man in crimson—but its rider was the man in blue!
In a single fluid motion, Teo spun in the saddle and heaved his javelin toward the target he had long since passed. It curved in a graceful arc, planting its head in the target as Teo crossed the finish line—the last man standing. He had hit all his targets.
The crowd roared its approval.
Ana began to cry.
On the sandy floor of the arena, Teo lifted his bow and drew the string to the anchor point on his cheekbone. His target was a fat apple perched on a wobbly post.
He was about to win the tournament, but his mood was sour. What a farce this is! The crowd doesn’t want to be inspired—just entertained. They’ll chew me up and spit me out, just like they did with Anastasia.
The horse race had nearly killed him. In the next event, Teo had fought a chiseled gladiator with thighs like tree trunks. Each combatant was dressed in padded armor covered by a white surcoat. Their wooden weapons had been edged with red paint to indicate where a blow had landed. Back and forth they swung ax and sword, thrusting, parrying, and hacking at each other while the crowd sated its appetite for violence. Teo was covered in bruises where the armor plates had been driven into his skin. He had bruises on top of his burns. Eventually he had managed to club his brawny opponent into submission, but for what? So the masses could be placated with spectacles? So the priestly caste could keep the populace amused?
Ana’s mistreatment at the poetry competition had embittered Teo toward the people of his land. They had refused to see the beauty of her poem, either because they feared the dogmatic priesthood or because of their own vapid desires. Both reasons were inexcusable.
Teo had participated in several tournaments before, but with growing insight he had come to realize he was being manipulated. The battles he fought today weren’t authentic. The whole affair was stage-managed. He longed to test himself in a real fight, like the Chiveisian warriors of old, who had defended the realm against deadly invaders.
Beyond his arrow’s tip, Teo focused on the waiting apple. He was confident he could hit it. Yet in his rebellious mood, he decided to go for more.
You want spectacle? I’ll give it to you!
The crowd waited for Teo to take his shot. Every eye held him in its gaze. Finally he let the arrow fly. It missed the apple, smacking into the post just underneath it. The apple wobbled and began to tumble from its perch. The crowd let out a groan.
Before the groan could die out, Teo whipped another arrow from the quiver on his shoulder and sent it slicing toward the falling apple. The arrow pierced the fruit before it hit the ground. The stunned crowd went wild.
Teo looked up at the faceless worshippers circled around him. They were from all over the kingdom—the two valleys, the Citadel, Entrelac, Toon, and the villages stretched along the Farm River. Each contingent sat together, flying its local flag as a sign of civic pride. In the distance, the late afternoon sun glinted on the Tooner Sea. Teo threw his bow to the ground. Though no one could hear him, he spoke anyway: “Beloved Chiveisi, you should aspire to more than this.” He felt sad.
A gate opened, and two figures rode onto the arena floor. It was the king and the High Priestess with their respective retinues. Teo knelt.
“Rise, warrior!” said King Piair, dismounting from his stallion. “Never have I seen such strength and skill as you’ve displayed today!”
“I only do my duty, Sire.” Teo rose and stood erect as he had been commanded.
The king looked Teo in the eye, taking his measure. Then he reached beneath his fur-lined cape and unbuckled a sword from his waist.
“Long have I wished to find a man worthy of this weapon,” he said. “Do you know what I hold here?”
Teo answered that he did not. The High Priestess’s horse shifted its feet.
“It is the sword of the mighty Armand! The blade is the finest steel, as keen as ever. Many battles did he fight at my side with this weapon. Now I want you to have it.”
Teo swallowed. “This is a great gift, Your Majesty.” The king buckled the sword of Anastasia’s grandfather onto Teo’s waist as the crowd cheered.
A horse was brought, and Teo swung into the saddle. The High Priestess stepped her black mare toward him, holding out a garland of white mountain-star flowers. Teo bowed his head, and she placed it around his neck. Then, unexpectedly, she traced her fingernail along the edge of his jaw. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine. “I trust,” she said, her black lips whispering in Teo’s ear, “you’ll use that sword to serve the glory of Astrebril.” Teo looked at her, uncertain as to her meaning. “Go now, Captain. Give the garland to Princess Habiloho, and make your king happy.”
Teo nudged his horse forward a few steps. The people cheered, then quieted to hear his words. They knew what was
coming; it was one of their favorite moments. They loved Habiloho, the Flame of Chiveis. She had been winning garlands since she was twelve. Teo saw her in the royal box, smiling as she waited. Taking the garland from his neck, he raised it high.
“Listen now, people of my heart!” he cried. “Today I do not keep this glorious prize! I give it away, that it might adorn the neck of another! I give it to the fairest flower in all of Chiveis!”
Teo whirled his horse and kicked his heels. The crowd let out a collective gasp. The horse galloped across the open expanse of the arena floor, stopping before a red and yellow flag with a bear emblem. The flag of Edgeton.
There she is!
Teo came to Ana on the front row. Her lovely mouth was open as she tried to understand what was happening. He pulled his horse close to the seating area until he was eye to eye with her. Reaching out, he took her hand in his and laid the garland in her palm.
“I choose you, Anastasia. You carry the beautiful spirit of Chiveis within your soul.”
“Who is that girl? I want any information you have!” In her private rooms beneath the coliseum, the High Priestess struggled to keep her tone civil as she addressed the priests and royal officials gathered before her. Rage gripped her dark heart, but she maintained control of herself.
The cult of Astrebril sponsored the games to please the masses and, more importantly, to manipulate the vanity of the royal family. The High Priestess understood how her blend of religion and entertainment would scratch the itches of the flea-bitten hordes. An amused populace was a docile populace. King Piair was no different. He wanted the day’s narrative to climax with his pretty little daughter smiling in smug satisfaction.
Now the king would blame the High Priestess for Habiloho’s disappointment. Forget about obtaining the ban on foreign religions anytime soon. It was going to take a lot of ego manipulation just to get things back to where they had started. Enraged at the setback, the High Priestess intended to make sure her plans would never go awry again. Though Captain Teofil was too popular to confront directly, the peasant girl who had stolen the prize was going to have to disappear.
A priest of Elzebul stepped forward, his eyebrows sticking up in all directions. “Magnificent One, the girl is named Anastasia of Edgeton. She’s the author of a poem offered in a competition today. I was there. I thought it expressed blasphemous opinions.”
At the mention of Anastasia’s name, a light went on in the High Priestess’s head. This is the same girl for whom the outsiders are offering triple brimstone! Though she hadn’t anticipated this confluence of events, it didn’t surprise her. Even from a distance, the High Priestess had seen how beautiful Ana was. It made sense that the lecherous outsiders would want her as a slave and that Captain Teofil would be smitten with her as well. A smile crept into the corners of the High Priestess’s mouth. She was beginning to formulate a plan—one with two advantages and no downside.
She turned to the priest of Elzebul. “Tell me about the girl’s poem,” she commanded. He nervously provided a synopsis. When he finished, no one else had anything to offer, so the High Priestess dismissed the useless sycophants from her presence. Turning toward a pair of Vulkainian strongmen, she pointed at the door. “You two! Go find the girl, and bring her to my chapel immediately.”
The men left the room, and the High Priestess entered her underground chapel through a door behind the altar. It was here that, a few hours earlier, she had dedicated the games to the glory of Astrebril by animal sacrifice. Now she resolved to carry out the god’s will through a sacrifice of a different kind. She savored the irony of her plan.
A short time later, footsteps in the hall signaled the return of the Vulkainians. They escorted a young woman between them. Her demeanor was cautious, though seemingly unafraid. The High Priestess gestured for Ana to take a seat in the pews, then waved the guards out of the room.
“Congratulations on your glorious trophy, Anastasia of Edgeton,” she said smoothly. “Captain Teofil has indeed chosen well. You’re exquisite.”
Ana said nothing.
“Are you aware, little one, of the power your beauty gives you? Oh, it’s true! Even great kings and warriors will bow to you. Learn to use your sensuality, and you can lead a man around like a bull with a ring in his nose.” The High Priestess laughed as she slid to Ana’s side.
“Anastasia, I’ve called you here to honor you. Your great beauty has won you the garland you now wear around your neck. And to show my esteem for any woman who could capture the fancy of a man like Captain Teofil, I want to offer you a favor. I hope you’ll accept it.”
“If I can, I will,” Ana said.
“You love the deep woods, don’t you? Then here’s my gift. My monks are learned in the ways of nature. It would be my privilege to loan you my personal coach, to send you on a guided tour through lovely parts of the kingdom. There are some rare natural features in our realm that would astound you.”
The High Priestess paused, putting her arm around Ana’s shoulder, assuming a confidential air. “I know you cherish the natural beauty of Chiveis, for I’ve heard about your pretty poem. What a shame that even the black chough, who soars in the highest reaches of Astrebril’s dome, couldn’t teach the little dove to fly.” The High Priestess stared into Ana’s blue-green eyes. The girl pulled away.
“Anastasia, allow me to give you this gift! I’ll summon a monk from my temple, a man who knows the natural world. He’ll give you a tour you’ll never forget! What do you say?”
Ana’s voice was steady. “Thank you, Your Eminence, for your kind offer. But I’m afraid it’s an offer I can’t accept.” Before anything else could be said, the girl ran from the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
The priestess sat in silence, seething. She clenched her jaw. Abruptly she picked up a wooden bench and heaved it at the altar, knocking it over with a crash. Chalices and knives clattered across the floor. Thick blood oozed from an overturned cup onto the pages of a liturgy book.
“You won’t be so impudent once your new master is done with you, Anastasia of Edgeton.”
Ana was relieved to see her parents waiting for her outside the coliseum. Though the people of Chiveis revered the High Priestess, Ana’s spirit had sensed an underlying current of evil in the woman. The experience unnerved her, and she was glad to be free. As Ana approached her parents, she noticed a tall man standing with them. Captain Teofil! He had cleaned up after the tournament and was back in his uniform. Ana smoothed her scarlet gown as she approached the trio.
After greeting her father and mother, she bowed to Teo. “Thank you for my prize today, Captain.”
Teo returned the bow. “The prize is well deserved.”
Ana smiled at him.
“Captain Teofil has asked my permission for you to join him this evening,” Stratetix said. “There’s a party for young people in the forest.”
“The revel for Pon?” Ana felt apprehensive. The annual Pon-Revel had a reputation for decadence.
Teo nodded. “That’s right! Would you be my escort, Anastasia? There’s no one whose company I would enjoy more. Your poetry today—it moved me. I want to discuss it with you over good wine shared among friends.”
He stepped forward and looked down at Ana with a gentle smile. His hair had been cut since she first met him in the woods, though it was still thick and unkempt in a casual sort of way. A dark lock hung loose over his face.
Stratetix spoke up. “Daughter, you may go. I’ll reserve a room for you at the inn at Toon. You can retire there after the festivities are over. It’s the closest town to the party. Tomorrow you can catch the riverboat home. Here are some coins.” Stratetix handed Ana a pouch.
Helena agreed. “Go now and enjoy yourself. You’ll be in good hands with Captain Teofil.”
Ana turned toward Teo, searching his face. I’ve heard many wild rumors about the Pon-Revel, she thought. Yet why would Teofil ask me to go if they were true? And why shouldn’t I enjoy myself as the escort of su
ch a handsome man?
“I’d be honored to join you, Captain,” she said.
Princess Habiloho drew the curtains on her carriage as it pulled away from the coliseum. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to see a living soul. She wanted to block out the entire world.
No sooner had the carriage started moving than it ground to a halt. “Why have we stopped?” she yelled up to the driver. “Get going!”
The driver opened the door and leaned in, his face apologetic. “You’ve been summoned.” He rolled his eyes and tipped his head over his shoulder to indicate someone behind him. “The High Priestess,” he whispered.
The High Priestess? What does she want with me? Habiloho stepped down from her carriage and cautiously approached the sumptuous coach parked nearby. Its door gaped open. She peeked inside.
“Have a seat.”
Habiloho inhaled sharply. The voice had startled her, even though she had been expecting it. She sat down across from the High Priestess, marveling at her fair skin and perfect features.
“Welcome, Flame of Chiveis.”
“It seems I don’t deserve that title today, Your Eminence.” The princess’s voice was filled with bitterness.
“You don’t? Or is it that you weren’t recognized for what you truly are?”
Habiloho liked the sound of that. She turned it over in her mind.
The High Priestess changed the subject. “Do you know where Captain Teofil is now?”
“What do I care where he goes? Last I heard, he was going to the Pon-Revel.”
“You’re right. He’s on his way there now. With Anastasia of Edgeton. I have people watching them.”
Habiloho pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose as she gazed out the coach window, but she didn’t speak.
“Would you like revenge?”
The question was so direct, it took a moment to register in Habiloho’s mind. She snapped her eyes to the High Priestess’s and asked herself, Do I want revenge?
“I guess so,” she answered.
The Sword Page 11
