Jardir hesitated, and Leesha’s aura flushed with victory. She gave him a mocking smile. ‘Tell me the name days of all of them, and I will be your wife, here and now.’
Jardir gritted his teeth, flexing his fingers to keep them from curling into a fist.
So that’s why she smelled different. Arlen growled low in his throat as he watched Jardir and Leesha, his sharp ears catching every word. He cursed himself. He would have seen it long ago had he Known her like he did everyone else.
Should have told me, he thought. Never would have brought her if I’d known. Probably why she didn’t. Word of this gets out, it could ruin everything. Not for the first time, he wondered whose side that woman was on.
‘Thought you said there wern’t nothing left ’tween you and Leesha Paper,’ Renna said, snapping him from his musing.
Arlen glanced at her, and then back at Leesha and Jardir. He tensed as Jardir grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t mean I want to see her playing kissy with a man who did his best to murder me.’
Renna grunted. ‘Nothin’ in the plan says you can’t stomp him a bit ’fore you finish things.’
‘Mean to,’ Arlen said, stepping forward. ‘Had your moment, Jardir! Hour’s come to answer for your crimes!’
Jardir released Leesha’s arm. ‘We will speak more of this, after.’
‘Only if you win, Ahmann,’ Leesha said. The words cut him deeply, but he embraced the feeling and pushed it aside, turning to stride over to where the Par’chin waited at the centre of the cliff. The sun still bathed the area, and would until it fully set. His crownsight winked out as he left the shadow of the cliff.
The witnesses gathered around in a semicircle with the cliff wall at their backs. The challenge was simple. They would fight within the ring until one of them surrendered, or went over the cliff. They were allowed only spears and sharusahk, and both men stood with arms raised as Shanjat patted the son of Jeph’s simple clothing for hidden weapons, and Gared did the same for him.
‘No disrespect,’ the giant greenlander said as he went about the business.
‘You have nothing but honour in my eyes, son of Steave,’ Jardir replied.
His sharp ears caught Shanjat’s words to the son of Jeph. ‘You should be thankful for the mercy my master showed you, Par’chin.’
‘And you should be thankful I don’t blame a man’s dogs for who he tells them to bite,’ the Par’chin said.
Shanjat sneered. ‘The Shar’Dama Ka will finish what he started that night, Par’chin. You cannot hope to stand against him.’
‘Then why are you hiding a knife in your sleeve?’ the Par’chin demanded. ‘Use it, if you dare.’
The warrior tensed, and Jardir knew the Par’chin spoke truly. ‘Shanjat!’ he shouted, stealing the moment before his brother-in-law could shame him. ‘Attend me!’
When the Sharum seconds retreated, Jardir and the Par’chin bowed, both at a precise angle and duration, giving neither man greater or lesser face before Everam.
‘I have come as you demanded, son of Jeph,’ Jardir said. ‘Speak your accusations for all assembled and almighty Everam, from whom all justice flows, to hear.’
‘The spear you hold is not yours,’ the Par’chin said. ‘I risked my own life to bring it back to the world, and brought it first to you, my brother in sharak, to share its power. But sharing its secrets was not enough for you. The moment you realized its power was true, you conspired to steal it from me, ambushing me at night on the holy floor of the Maze. Your men beat me, and you took the spear, then cast me into a demon pit to die.’
There were murmurs from both sides at this, but Jardir ignored them, letting the Par’chin continue. He had carried these burdens too long in secret. Let us have it out, and have it done.
‘When I killed the sand demon and climbed from the pit, I told you you would need to kill me yourself,’ the Par’chin said. ‘But you chose instead to knock me out and leave me on the dunes to die. You should have known then this was coming.’
Jardir nodded. ‘You speak truly, Par’chin. I deny none of these actions, but I do deny the crime. One cannot steal one’s own property from the thief that took it.’
The Par’chin laughed. ‘Your property? I found it hundreds of miles from you, in a place no one had been to in three thousand years!’
‘Kaji was my ancestor,’ Jardir said.
The son of Jeph snorted. ‘Your stories are true, he had thousands of children, spread across the land. Got descendants in every sheep-sticking hamlet from here to the mountains of Miln.’
‘But it is we of Krasia who have kept to his word and tradition, Par’chin,’ Jardir said. ‘The holy city of Anoch Sun is sacred. You violated it and stole its treasures.’
‘You attack living cities, yet try to murder me for a crime against a dead one?’ the Par’chin demanded. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Where did you get that crown, my old friend? How much of the holy city did you have to violate to find it?’
Jardir felt his face grow cold, for of course, his army had ransacked the city during their exodus from the desert. But there was no way the Par’chin could know that …
But the son of Jeph smiled, as if he could read Jardir’s mind. ‘I’ve been back there, my friend, and seen how you left things. I treated your “sacred city” with far more reverence than you did, and brought its secrets to you in peace and brotherhood. Even offered to take you back there myself. What has your visit brought the world? Rape, pillage, and murder.’
‘Order,’ Jardir said. ‘Unity. I have made Krasia whole again, and soon the known world.’
The Par’chin shook his head. ‘Once you’re gone, your tribes will be back to slaughtering one another over a bucket of water. Gettin’ rid of you is my last piece of business before I take the fight down to the Core itself.’
Jardir smiled, readying his spear. ‘Whatever on Ala makes you think you can kill me, Par’chin?’
The Par’chin, too, gave a smile and lifted his spear. Whatever else he was, the son of Jeph was Sharum to his core, his soul at peace and ready for the lonely path.
I will sup with you again at Everam’s table, my true friend, Jardir thought as he leapt to attack.
Jardir’s attack was fast. Faster than Arlen had thought possible in daylight. But even so, Arlen was faster, the magic humming just beneath the surface of his skin, giving him strength and speed his foe could never match. He parried the thrust, smoothly following through into a return strike. He would strike with the shaft of his weapon at first, stealing face from Jardir before he finished the fight for real.
But Jardir surprised him, spinning his weapon inhumanly fast to parry the attack. They struck again and again, each move blending into the next. Both men gave and took ground, but when they broke apart, neither held advantage. There was grudging respect in Jardir’s eyes, and Arlen, too, knew he had been arrogant.
He’s drawing on the spear to give him strength in the day, Arlen realized.
‘You fight even better than I remember, Par’chin,’ Jardir complimented with a slight bow, his aura unreadable in the light of the setting sun. ‘Again I underestimate you.’
Arlen smiled. ‘You always say that.’
‘This time is the last,’ Jardir said. ‘I will not hold back any longer.’
And he did not. The First Warrior Priest of Krasia attacked again, and it was all Arlen could do to keep up. He was faster, barely, but Jardir had martial skills that even Arlen could not match. He managed to keep the point of Jardir’s spear at bay, but the butt and shaft began connecting, blows aided by impact wards and Jardir’s own enhanced strength.
But while he could not use his magic out in the sunlight, beneath the protective layer of his skin Arlen had free rein. His bones were stronger than warded glass, his muscles and tendons spring steel. The blows buffeted him, but none did serious damage, and the little they did was healed instantly.
Still, he was not dominating as expected. In fact, to the eyes of all around him, he was losing.
‘It is still my hope you will surrender, Par’chin,’ Jardir said. ‘Admit your crime and submit to me. My mercy is boundless, and I would still have you at my side in Sharak Ka.’
‘You don’t know the meaning of mercy,’ Arlen said. ‘If you truly cared about the First War, you would stop this meaningless grandstanding. Don’t you understand? We are drawing the mind demons. They don’t fear armies. They fear other minds, and will keep coming till we’re dead. In the meantime, all our peoples suffer for it.’
‘This is why we must unify now,’ Jardir said.
Arlen gritted his teeth and came back in, his anger redoubled. Their weapons were a blur as they leapt, twisted, and tumbled, clashing together and throwing each other back. Jardir came in with a blurring series of thrusts and spins of his weapon, and Arlen parried them all, realizing at the last moment they were all a feint as Jardir kicked high at his spear shaft, his sandalled foot blasting through the warded wood like a cornstalk.
Arlen stumbled back, keeping both his feet and the broken halves of the weapon, but in that instant his guard slipped slightly, and Jardir thrust. The Spear of Kaji sank into his abdomen, and Arlen screamed.
It wasn’t the cut. Arlen had been stabbed before, and it was a pain he could ignore in the heat of battle. This was something far more. The wards on the speartip activated, burning at the wound as they Drew his magic, sharpening the blade and adding to the impact. The shock ran through his whole body, an agony beyond comparison, like having his very soul sucked away.
Jardir’s own eyes bulged as he felt the drain, and in that instant he, too, dropped his guard. Arlen struck him hard across the face with the butt end of his sundered spear, sending his foe stumbling away and breaking the killing Draw.
Arlen dropped one of the spear halves to clutch at the wound, his hand coming away bright with blood. There were cries of anguish and triumph from the bystanders, but he ignored them, desperately trying to focus his remaining strength to heal the wound. It continued to burn, unable to heal fully, but the flow of blood slowed as it crusted.
That’s gonna scar, Arlen knew.
He glanced at the setting sun, wishing it would sink faster. He gave up all hope of humiliating his foe, focused now on simply surviving the next three-quarters of an hour.
Jardir hit the ground hard, but rolled right to his feet, more stunned than harmed. His cheekbone and jaw had fractured with the blow, but he had been so suffused with power when the Par’chin struck, the damage healed almost instantly.
He looked at the Par’chin, and Abban’s words came back to him. He is the man I remember, and he is not.
Indeed, the Par’chin had a whole new fighting style now, a blend of sharusahk and something else entirely. He was even faster and stronger than Jardir, but more than that, he fought as if accustomed to the advantage, while Jardir was still learning to apply it fully.
But it was only a matter of time until he could analyse the style and bring his rival down. He thought he had done so on the last pass, but he had been unprepared for the way the Spear of Kaji came alive with the thrust, as charged with magic as when he had thrust it into the alagai prince.
Was the Par’chin an agent of Nie? It seemed impossible. Unthinkable. But what other explanation could there be?
He Drew hard on the magic filling the spear, attacking with renewed fury.
Arlen dodged and leapt, ducked and twisted, doing everything in his power to avoid the deadly speartip. Giving up all thought of offence made it easier, but it was a sign of desperation that all assembled could see. Jardir was the better fighter, and tireless, now using Arlen’s own strength against him. He dominated the battle, and everyone around them held their breath, waiting for the killing blow.
But then the sun slipped below the horizon at last, and the rules changed. He could see Jardir’s crown and spear glowing fiercely, but he Drew on the ambient magic rising all around them, and felt his own strength returning as well.
The next time Jardir thrust, the Spear of Kaji passed through him as if Jardir had stabbed a cloud of smoke. It still burned at him, wards brightening as they pulled at his magic, but it was worth the pain as Arlen stepped into the blow, punching Jardir hard in the throat. He solidified fully with his arm hooked around the shaft of the Spear of Kaji and ducked with a twist, pulling the powerful weapon from Jardir’s grasp and flipping him onto his back.
Jardir kicked back up to his feet in an instant, whirling to face the Par’chin, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
‘You may have gained the spear for a moment, Par’chin, but you will not keep it,’ he promised.
‘Keep it?’ the Par’chin asked, looking at the weapon with disdain. ‘Don’t even want it any more. World’s better off without it.’ Then he did the unthinkable.
He turned and threw the Spear of Kaji over the edge of the cliff.
Jayan cried out, breaking ranks to run down the mountain path in search of it. The Par’chin turned, drawing heat and impact wards in the air that blasted the cliff face, sending a shower of stones to block his path.
‘No one leaves until this is finished!’ he thundered.
‘Very well, servant of Nie,’ Jardir said. ‘Let us finish it.’ He concentrated, extending the protective field of his crown as he charged, meaning to use its power to drive the son of Jeph over the edge into the abyss where he belonged.
But the magic of the crown, which he had thought could repel all alagai, had no effect on the Par’chin, and they grappled instead. Jardir took an immediate advantage, working into a strong hold, but again the Par’chin collapsed into smoke, escaping to re-form an instant later, landing heavy blows.
‘I am no servant of Nie,’ the Par’chin said, ‘simply because I have learned to use stolen magic more effectively than you and your bone-throwing dama’ting.’
Jardir snarled as he got his feet under him and came back in, blocking the lightning-fast kicks and punches as he returned his own probing strikes. Some of these the Par’chin parried, and others he avoided by dematerializing.
It seemed an impossible advantage, but there was a reason why Jardir had never lost a battle in his adult life. He memorized the patterns of the Par’chin’s shifts, and the next time he solidified, expecting an easy return strike, Jardir was ready, dodging aside and punching him hard in the stomach. He followed it with a knee to the throat as the man doubled over, and slammed his open palms into his ears, making his head ring and his thoughts scatter.
‘It seems you cannot use your magic at all when your mind is reeling,’ Jardir said, head-butting the Par’chin in the nose. Blood spattered his face, but Jardir pressed the attack, putting his hands around the greenlander’s throat.
Steel fingers clasped his own throat as the Par’chin surged back at him. ‘Don’t need it,’ he said, pushing Jardir back a few steps and leaping, pitching them both off the cliff after the spear.
‘World’s better off without us, too,’ he said as they fell.
Arlen felt cold wind on his face, clearing his thoughts as he and Jardir continued to grapple, twisting to try to dominate even as the wind howled in their ears.
Jardir proved the more skilled in the struggle, managing to put himself on top as ground rushed to meet them. It seemed pointless – the fall would kill them both, whoever was on top, but Arlen could see in his aura that Jardir didn’t care. Arlen would die a split second before him, and that would be enough.
Arlen stopped struggling, embracing the fall. Jardir’s aura lit with victory, but then Arlen dematerialized, and Jardir struck the ground with a bone-shattering crunch.
Krasian Dictionary
Abban am’Haman am’Kaji: Wealthy khaffit merchant, friend to both Jardir and Arlen, crippled during his warrior training.
Acha: Exclamation meaning ‘heads up!’
Ahmanjah: Book Jardir is penning about his life. It will be to him what the Evejah was to Kaji.
Ahmann asu Hoshkamin am’Jardir am
’Kaji: Ahmann, son of Hoshkamin, of the line of Jardir, of the tribe Kaji. Leader of all Krasia. Believed by many to be the Deliverer. See also: Shar’Dama Ka.
Ajin’pal (blood brother): Name for the bond that forms on a boy’s first night fighting in the Maze, when he is tethered to a dal’Sharum warrior to keep him from running when the demons first come at them. An ajin’pal is considered a blood relative thereafter.
Ala: (1) The perfect world created by Everam, corrupted by Nie. (2) Dirt, soil, clay, etc.
Alagai: The Krasian word for corelings (demons). Direct translation is ‘plague of Ala’.
Alagai hora: Demon bones used by dama’ting to create magic items, such as the warded dice they use to tell the future. Alagai hora burst into flame if exposed to sunlight.
Alagai Ka: Ancient Krasian name for the consort to Alagai’ting Ka, the Mother of All Demons. Alagai Ka and his sons were said to be the most powerful of the demon lords, generals, and captains of Nie’s forces.
Alagai’sharak: Holy War against demonkind.
Alagai tail: A whip consisting of three strips of braided leather ending in sharp barbs meant to cut deeply into a victim’s flesh. Used by dama as an instrument of punishment.
Alagai’ting Ka: The Mother of All Demons, the demon queen of Krasian myth.
Aleverak: Damaji of the Majah tribe in Krasia.
Amadeveram: Damaji of the Kaji tribe in Krasia before Jardir comes to power.
Amanvah: Jardir’s first daughter by Inevera, Amanvah is dama’ting in her own right. Offered to Rojer as a bride along with her cousin Sikvah.
Andrah: Krasian secular and religious dictator.
Anjha: One of the lesser tribes of Krasia.
Anoch Sun: Lost city that was once the seat of power for Kaji, the Shar’Dama Ka. It is believed to have been claimed by the sands; no one has seen or heard of the city in centuries. People and artefacts called Sunian.
Asavi: Dama’ting of the Kaji tribe. Former rival of Inevera as nie’dama’ting. Lover of Melan.