The Archer's Heart (2 page)

Chapter 2

Jandu squared his shoulders and strode into the pavilion. It was a spectacle of shiny baubles and pearly saucers, pink ribbons and gold tassels. The scent of jasmine and freshly cut, ripe oranges filled the air—a heady assault after the dusty archery grounds that Jandu had only just left. He hadn’t meant to be late or to arrive dressed like some Suya soldier, but he had lost track of time in the midst of battle practice.

Around him, Triya warriors decked in jewels and gleaming ceremonial armor watched him stride past with varying degrees of amusement, deference, and disdain. Every man he passed wore bright silk trousers or a long silk dejaru sarong. Absurdly bejeweled diadems sat atop their heads like flimsy helmets. 

Annoyance flared through Jandu. What was the point of all their gilded armor if not to remind them that they were born to be warriors? They were hypocrites, dressed in their gaudy armor and sneering at him, for coming late with the dust of a battleground clinging to him.

Jandu held his head high, feeling proud of himself. Let them smirk. He could best every one of them on the battlefield and they all knew it. Jandu allowed himself a satisfied smile. Then he glimpsed his older brothers. Yudar regarded him with an icy glare and Baram looked furious.

Jandu’s brothers rarely looked alike. Yudar was thin and fragile, with soft gentle eyes. Baram was enormous and pure muscle, with a face that was as broad as it was long and a fierce glower to his expression. But when they both disapproved of

Jandu, they immediately resembled each other, eyebrows scrunched in unison, noses turned distinctly upward.

Jandu bowed his head and quickly slunk to his seat beside Baram.

“You are late,” Baram growled at him.

“But I’m here,” Jandu replied.

Baram shook his head. Yudar’s attention had already shifted to the man on his left. Sahdin Ori, one of Yudar’s staunchest supporters, whispered to Yudar about the new tax laws.

Jandu scanned the crowd and watched the man he’d seen in the garden take the seat next to Iyestar Adaru. The two of them bowed their heads close as they talked.  But then the man seemed to have felt Jandu’s stare. He glanced back to Jandu, making eye contact and smiling widely.

Jandu leaned over to his brother Baram. “Who is that man?” he whispered.

Baram frowned. “That’s Keshan Adaru. He’s our first cousin.”

“I thought he had been banished.” Jandu stole another glance at him.

“His five years of penance are over,” Baram whispered.  “But I doubt he’s learned his lesson.”

The low thrum of a gong resounded through the room, silencing all conversation.

Lord Nadaru Paria stepped beside the archery target, his hands pressed together in the sign of peace. He was thin and bony, and had a neatly trimmed black beard and kind eyes. He smiled upon the congregation.

“It is an honor to see so many of my fellow Triya lords and warriors on this auspicious day,” Nadaru began. “My daughter Suraya recently turned twenty four, and asked me to find a suitable husband for her.”

Nadaru held out his hands and two servants opened the silk flaps of the pavilion. Suraya Paria entered, followed by her brother Rishak.

Rumor had it that Suraya had been made from fire, and it seemed to be true, the way her dark eyes smoldered, the way her skin was a deep, fire-burnt brown, her hair a dozen shades of mahogany, darkening to charcoal, lightening to yellow. She was beautiful, and the men around Jandu immediately reacted. Baram shifted in his seat, and even Yudar stared salaciously.

Suraya and Rishak stood at their father’s side. Lord Nadaru turned his attention back to the assembled Triya.

“Suraya and I have chosen this challenge to test the intelligence, concentration, and skill of the greatest warriors across Marhavad. Whoever wins this competition shall have the honor of marrying my daughter.”

The look of anticipation on the men’s faces around the room amused Jandu. Half of them looked at Suraya wantonly, like she was already their wife. And half of them were twice her age. Suraya regarded her suitors with a bemused expression.

Nadaru went on. “Here you see a pool of water, reflecting a spinning target that has been mounted on the ceiling. Your goal will be to string the bow I’ve provided and shoot the spinning fish that his hanging from the disk in the eye. However, you cannot look at the fish. You have to look at the reflection of the fish in the pool to win.”

The room erupted in noise as the men contested the plausibility of accomplishing such a task. Even Jandu questioned whether he could hit the fish in the eye, since the eye could not even be seen from this distance.

Baram leaned backwards in his chair and glared at Jandu. “You know this challenge had to be chosen with you in mind, don’t you?”

“Probably.” Jandu shrugged. “But I’m still not going to compete.”

 “Suraya might not get married at all now.”

Jandu grinned. “Especially since I’m the only one who can hit that fish.” He stretched his back and prepared to watch joyously as the others failed.

“Let the competition begin!” Nadaru called out. He handed his daughter an elaborate garland of orange marigolds for her to drape around the winner.

Jandu looked to his left once more, checking on his cousin Keshan. Keshan met his gaze with a knowing look as if the two of them were sharing a secret joke. His lips were a rich red and sensual. He had gold hoop earrings, barely visible under the curl of his short dark hair. He wore the finest of Triya clothing casually, lounging in dark yellow silk trousers and a gold embroidered vest. Jandu couldn’t keep his eyes from dipping to the bright red sash, slung low across Keshan’s lean hips.

Jandu suddenly didn’t care about the competition anymore. Keshan Adaru was infamous throughout Marhavad, and not just because his mother came from the enchanted demon race of the Yashva. Keshan had defied Firdaus Trinat, the powerful lord of Chandamar, by stealing the man’s bride-to-be and it was rumored that he had spent the five years of his exile in the demon kingdom.

But what made Keshan most unconventional was that, despite being the son of a lord, Keshan consorted with people of all castes and creeds, going so far as to declare the time-honored caste system criminal. He had an open disdain for many of the Shentari religious traditions that Marhavad was founded upon.

Keshan winked at Jandu. Jandu quickly looked away, forcing himself to focus his attention on the competition.

The first man to compete was the elderly lord of Penemar, who took several minutes to make it over to the table where the bow was laid out.

“Grandpa there wants some action,” Jandu whispered into Baram’s ear. Baram laughed loudly. Yudar and several of his supporters scowled at them both.

The lord of Penemar could barely lift the bow off the table, much less string it. He sat down quickly.

The routine was the same for all of the older gentleman who tried their hand at a young blushing bride who they didn’t have to bribe into their beds. Jandu shook his head, hoping he never grew to be such a deluded old fool. He yawned.

The challenge only started to get interesting once Druv, the young lord of Pagdesh, had his turn. He was the first to actually lift the bow completely off the table and start stringing it. But the bow was designed not to be strung easily. He struggled for several minutes, breaking out into an embarrassed sweat and swearing, until he finally threw the bow down.

“This challenge is rigged!” he spat at Nadaru.

“He can’t get it up,” Jandu whispered to Baram. Baram snickered.

Next up was Darvad, Jandu’s half-brother.

“Piss-drinking bastard,” Baram hissed under his breath.

“Quiet. Respect our half-brother,” Yudar whispered. He was always urging his two younger brothers to be more polite to Darvad. But Jandu had seen the hint of a smile on Yudar’s lips a moment ago and he suspected that Yudar took a secret pleasure in their rude comments. After all, there was no love lost between Yudar and Darvad. Even as children the two of them had competed intensely.

Darvad bowed to Suraya, and she smiled coyly at him. He turned to the bow and placed his hands on it.

Jandu immediately smirked at Darvad’s error. There was no excuse for it. Mazar had instructed Darvad in exactly the same battle lessons that he’d given to Yudar, Baram and Jandu himself.

They had played together, studied together, and fought together since they were all children. And yet a smile from a pretty girl was obviously all it took to wipe Mazar’s instruction from Darvad’s memory.

Darvad was the first person to successfully string the bow. Triya noblemen throughout the room broke out in applause. Jandu couldn’t believe that so many of them could have failed to recognize Darvad’s grave error.

Jandu snuck a quick glance at Keshan. Keshan watched Darvad intently. Suddenly Jandu found himself jealous of the way Keshan eyed Darvad so expectantly.

Darvad grabbed an arrow from the quiver and knelt beside the pool of water. He immediately looked up at the fish.

“You must shoot using the reflection,” Lord Nadaru reminded him.

Darvad scowled. He looked down at the water’s reflection and then tried to pull back the bowstring.

His arms twitched and his muscles trembled, but he couldn’t pull the bowstring back. A number of Yudar’s supporters snickered. Darvad stared at them as if he could kill them with the evil eye.

Darvad struggled with the bow a minute longer, and then put the bow down, breathing heavily.

“That’s what you get for paying attention to the girl and not the bow, fucker,” Jandu said under his breath. He loved this.

“Watch your language,” Yudar whispered, but his expression was one of quiet satisfaction.

Darvad sat back down, flushed with humiliation. Jandu relished every second of it. Out of the corner of his eye he searched to see how the defeat had affected Keshan. To Jandu’s annoyance, Keshan still watched Darvad and his cluster of close friends.

The herald read from his list of competitors. “Next to compete is Tarek Amia, lord of Dragewan.”

Jandu didn’t really know much about Tarek, other than he was of the lower Suya caste and excelled at archery. Since he kept Darvad’s company, Jandu assumed that he was probably evil. 

As Tarek approached the bow on the table, Jandu noticed that Keshan’s interest again peaked. Jandu stared hard at his cousin, hoping to distract Keshan’s attention. Someone as remarkable as Keshan didn’t need to be so fascinated by a lowly Suya.

Tarek brought his hands together and prayed to the bow. Jandu had to give the Suya credit. That was what Darvad, and most of the men before him, had failed to do.

Tarek lifted the bow easily and strung it without difficulty. Jandu watched, fascinated by the balance in Tarek’s movements.

Tarek was several years older than Jandu, but they both had dark, slightly curly black hair, and high cheekbones. Someone even once accused them of looking like brothers. At the time the comment had enraged Jandu, but now, as Tarek took a perfect stance and drew the bowstring back easily, Jandu could see the resemblance.

“No!” Suraya suddenly shouted. It was the first time she spoke. “I will not marry a charioteer’s son.”

Voices raising objections and support to Suraya’s refusal flared through the room. Nadaru looked displeased and held up his hands, asking for quiet.

“He may be the only one who can win,” Nadaru said softly to his daughter.

Suraya shook her head. “I don’t care. I’d rather remain a maiden than marry below my caste.”

Tarek looked momentarily crushed, but he regained his composure  quickly. He unstrung the bow and put it back on the table, and then bowed before Nadaru.

“My apologies. I meant no offense.” He sat back down, pale with the insult. Darvad patted his back and then pushed another of his friends forward to take the challenge.

Firdaus Trinat, the lord of Chandamar, swaggered to the table.

Jandu caught the immediate frown that appeared on his cousin Keshan’s face. Firdaus and Keshan were said to have been enemies from the first moment they met and Jandu was sure that being banished on Firdaus’ account hadn’t warmed Keshan’s disposition towards the man any.

Jandu watched Firdaus anxiously. The man was developing a slight gut, and his long black hair thinned at the roots. But his square jaw, massive forearms and thick chest lent him a formidable appearance. There was also something slightly ethereal to the way Firdaus moved. It was said that Firdaus had Yashva blood, like Keshan. Firdaus lifted the bow with ease, and managed to string it as well. Applause rang through the room. Without hesitating, Firdaus loosed his arrow. A loud crash echoed through the pavilion and the spinning fish plunged into the water.

Men all around the room jumped from their seats to get a closer look at the results. But Lord Nadaru scowled as he pulled the fish from the water. The arrow jutted up from the belly of the fish.

“You have missed the eye,” he said.

“Your challenge is unrealistic,” Firdaus said. His voice was low. “It is the best a man of this earth can do. I demand my prize!”

Nadaru looked to his daughter. Suraya offered the slightest shake of her head, clearly unenthused by the prospect of being the second wife of a man almost twice her age.

Nadaru pulled the arrow from the fish and then held out his arms for silence. “If no other man here can match your skill, Lord Firdaus, you may claim my Suraya.”

The room erupted in chatter once more. Jandu felt bad for Suraya, who looked about to cry as she eyed her potential future husband. But it was not his problem. He was not here to rescue Suraya.

A few other young warriors tried, but none succeeded in even stringing the bow. A deathly hush settled over the attendees, realizing that they had exhausted the potential in the room and no one had even gotten close to Firdaus’ accomplishment.

“Perhaps I made it too hard,” Nadaru said.

Jandu anxiously looked to Keshan, wondering if he would compete as well. But Keshan, like himself, only watched the festivities. Then Keshan suddenly turned and stared straight at Jandu. He raised an eyebrow, and smiled almost lasciviously. It was an inviting smile—a beckoning smile.