The Ruling Elite and Other Stories
Xina Marie Uhl and Janet Loftis
ISBN-10:1930805233
ISBN-13:978-1-930805-23-1
(c) Copyright 2014 by Xina Marie Uhl and Janet Loftis
Cover art by Karri Klawiter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.
Learn more about the authors and their other works at XC Publishing.net.
Contents
Part I: Stories by Xina Marie Uhl
The Ruling Elite
The Coming of the Destroyer
The Pomegranate Tree
Part II: Stories by Janet Loftis
Skin Job
Talebones
In the Service of the Queen
About the Authors
A Request of the Reader
Part I
Where fantasy meets history
The stories of Xina Marie Uhl
THE RULING ELITE
Wind swept off the frozen ridge, worming its way around the leather armor-collar at my neck and the rags tied around my red, chafed hands. I scarcely felt the knife in my grasp. I only prayed that when the time came I would have enough mobility left to save our lives.
Halis lay where she had collapsed, her skin as pale as the hard-packed ice around us; dark hair and dark rings around her eyes making the contrast more striking. Her breath came short and shallow, a hoarse rattling sounded somewhere deep in her chest. I had never seen her so ill. I wasn't sure she would live even if I did manage to fight off the Ulbari.
Kneeling next to her, I undid the folds of her garments to make sure her wound wasn't festering. Sweat beaded my forehead and clotted my underarms. My fingers trembled. I thought of my mother, a tavern whore in the streets of Netria: caressing my hair, kissing my cheek, laughing with her customers behind beaded curtains. My dark-haired, beautiful mother, screaming in agony as she gave in to one of the fits of madness that had dogged her periodically throughout my childhood, and flung herself off a bridge in the old section of town. I clamped the memory off.
The wound was ragged and deep, a red and purple mass of torn tissue. As was the custom of the healers, I left it unbandaged to drain. If there had been time for rest, proper food, and the healing balms of the city, Halis would have had a good chance at recovering.
Roused by my probing, her eyelids flickered open. She placed cold fingers on my arm.
"Have they found us?"
"No."
"Good, I'll sleep."
"No. We must move. Get up."
She closed her eyes again, gave a sigh that frosted the air. "Leave me be."
"I can't. You know that."
"If you cared about me you would."
I looked away, over the snowy fields. I don't care for you, I thought. I never will.
"Please, I just need to sleep for a little while . . . "
Her eyes closed and her breathing deepened--sleeping, despite my orders. Three years ago she had bought me from the mercenary troop I had sworn my honor to. She had never sold her honor like I had; perhaps that is why she ignored me.
Our journey had begun as a caravan of twenty-three men and seven women pledged to escort Halis to the holy city of Samarra. There, she was to discharge her obligation to her patron goddess Korei. Halis's family had many enemies, so I chose experienced soldiers to accompany us, and planned our route carefully. But in the end it was all useless. The Ulbari had ambushed us as we traveled through the ice fields between Samarra and Kabala. I fought as well as I could, but our party was outnumbered and the Ulbari were renowned mercenaries.
Halis had never held a weapon in her whole pampered life, but when one of the Ulbari rushed her and her attendants, she picked up a fallen spear and stuck him in the thigh. The blow didn't stop him and by the time I reached her, the Ulbari had stabbed her in the chest. I killed him, but others kept coming and those I could not stop. Securing Halis in one arm and slashing back and forth like a reaper with the other, I fought free of the fracas. I wanted to stay, but I was bodyguard to Halis, so I let the deaths of the others mask our escape across the snow.
The code of my Company governed my life: protect, honor and serve your master, die for him, or if you can, die with him, and always defend the code of Kuba, god of peace and war. But when we left the others to die I hated Halis for who she was—Elan, the ruling elite. And more, Dela-Elan, elite of the elite. My class was forever dying for hers.