The Rage of Dragons (The Burning Books #1) (16 page)

“You don’t need water,” Jayyed said.

“I don’t, nkosi?” Tau asked.

“‘Umqondisi’ will do. I’m no Noble.” Jayyed walked deeper onto the training ground and Tau followed. For a few breaths, they moved in silence. Tau watched the other scales go about their business, noticing how familiar they looked, practicing forms, skirmishing with dulled blades of bronze, swinging at a fraction of true combat speed, careful not to injure one another. Already, Tau was seeing training with fresh eyes.

“What do you want from the isikolo?” Jayyed asked.

“I want to defend the Omehi from the hedeni.”

“Of course you do.”

Tau considered what else he should… what else he was willing to tell Jayyed. “I need to be one of the greatest fighters alive. I’m willing to work. I will—”

Jayyed laughed. Tau stiffened.

“Easy,” Jayyed told him. “I’m impressed is all. In fact, I remember wanting much the same thing. But what about Nobles?”

“What of them?”

“Nobles are bigger, stronger, and faster than Lessers.”

“They’re still men.”

Jayyed smiled. “Men born with natural advantages for fighting.”

Tau felt his blood go hot as he recalled the day of his father’s death. “I was a match for Jabari Onai,” he said.

Jayyed gave him a look, one eyebrow raised.

“I didn’t say I was a good match,” Tau said, backing off the point and missing his friend all at the same time. “But I did beat Kagiso Okafor.”

“That nceku can barely call himself Noble.”

“But he is one and I beat him. I need to be the greatest fighter of the Omehi,” Tau said, fighting for calm, his fingernails digging into his palms. “Can you give me that?”

Jayyed grew serious. “I can’t give you anything. It might be something you can take, if you’re willing.”

“I am.”

“We’ll see. The cost for greatness is high.”

“I’ll pay anything.”

“Your life?” Jayyed asked, causing Tau to stop. “That’s the price. Life is nothing more than moments in time. To achieve greatness, you have to give up those moments. You have to give your life to your goal.”

“Easily paid,” Tau told him.

Jayyed watched him. “Spoken like a young man, still new to the world.” He continued walking. “We’ll see if your actions match your mouth.”

The rest of that morning and afternoon was spent sparring. Tau had to fight with his off hand and Jayyed warned the others that anyone targeting Tau’s healing wrist would be punished. It didn’t matter; Tau lost all his matches. He felt ashamed of his performance and worried that Jayyed would remove him from the scale.

At supper, he ate little, his hunger masked by worry over his fate. He spoke to no one and no one spoke to him. He felt miserable but promised himself he’d do better the next day.

Tau’s second day was filled with practicing proper technique for swinging, performing a thrust, and lunging. The basics. Jayyed told them he would not teach traditional forms covering long sequences of attacking or defending. He argued that long forms made fighters too rigid. They did not allow for individual expression or the use of individual advantages.

“We are more alike than we are different,” Jayyed said. “Two arms, two legs, one head.” He had prodded the stocky and talkative Themba in the parts of the body he named, shutting the initiate up, for the moment.

“There are only so many good ways to attack or defend. I will teach those and no others. The rest you will learn by adapting the basics to your individual advantages and disadvantages.” Jayyed had touched Tau’s broken wrist with his wooden sword when he said that part. “We are more alike than we are different, but there are differences. I can’t teach you yours. You’ll discover them for yourself.”

So they practiced the basics. Then they sparred, dueling the rest of the afternoon and the next two days away. The fifth day began as the others, with basic sword work.

“Thrust. Thrust. Thrust, damn you!” shouted Anan at the line of sweating men.

Tau was frustrated. Jayyed’s impressive performance five days ago had begun to fade, and it was hard to imagine becoming a better swordsman by swinging a wooden sword. It didn’t help that the other initiates made fun of Scale Jayyed for fighting one another with wood, and Tau was finding it difficult adjusting to life at the isikolo.

Many of the other men in his scale had formed small groups of friends. But they ignored Tau, and, reacting to their scorn, he’d decided he wouldn’t bother with friendships. Tau was at the isikolo to learn, to get better, to become a brilliant fighter, and that was all. He was finding it a lonely path.

Worst of all was his performance. He lost far more duels than he won. Still, he never called for the Goddess’s mercy, always fighting to the bitter end. Tau told himself he did it to push himself. At night, he wondered if it was because his pride couldn’t survive both defeat and surrender.

“Form lines!” Anan hollered as Jayyed strode up to their practice area.

The scale ordered themselves for Jayyed’s address. “Morning,” he said, and they greeted him in chorus.

“Before we continue, I have something to tell you,” Jayyed said. “I’ve asked Aqondise Anan to begin extra training for anyone who wants it, two sun spans earlier than regular training.” Themba groaned, earning himself a sharp look from Anan.

“This is not mandatory,” Jayyed said, “but time put in determines the value of what comes out.”

Jayyed’s eyes slid over the faces of the men before him. Tau felt as if the sword master’s gaze slowed when it reached him. Whether that was true or no, Tau would be there early the next day. If Jayyed thought extra time would help, then Tau would take the help.

That afternoon, Tau sparred with Hadith, who crushed him.

“I’ll see you at the early sessions, neh?” Hadith asked, forcing Tau back with a series of rapid-fire strikes.

Tau nodded, doing his best to hold the Governor at bay.

“Good,” Hadith said. “You need it, and it’ll be entertaining for Uduak and me to have more sparring time with you.” Hadith stabbed Tau right where his heart was. “Kill hit and match,” he said, resetting.

Tau rubbed at his sore chest. His gambeson didn’t seem to do much to blunt blows anymore, and he couldn’t be sure if it was because his body was bruised everywhere or because the padding in his armor had been beaten threadbare over the last five days of losses. He did know he was not looking forward to extra time with Hadith and Uduak.

The next morning, Tau made sure he was first to the early practice. When he got to the training grounds it was still dark and the day was warm, instead of furiously hot. He readied his body with exercises, and as he did, five other men joined him. They were Uduak, Hadith, Chinedu, Yaw, and Jengo.

Uduak was the first to the yard after Tau, and he stood as far from him as was reasonable, swinging the massive chunk of wood he’d asked the armorers to fashion as a sword for him.

Chinedu was next. Then came Yaw, smallest of them, which meant he was only half a head taller than Tau. Still, he was vicious and had a talent for sticking his sword right where it would hurt the most. After Yaw came Jengo, strutting over like a Palm Royal Noble and drawing his sword as if he was about to order a charge. Last to the grounds was Hadith. He didn’t warm up, opting instead to stand off to one side, watching the rest.

When Anan arrived, he called for them to line up. He made them run round the practice grounds, raising a sweat, before pairing them off. Tau was with Jengo.

Anan had them spar, and he walked around correcting this and adjusting that. Even fighting with his off hand, Tau was a fair match for Jengo. Jengo’s problem, Tau thought, was that he tried to get through a match without taking a single hit. It made him too defensive, which gave Tau the opportunity to press him.

His unrelenting attacks wore Jengo down and stretched out the match. The others had finished their rounds and watched. They all cheered on a flagging Jengo.

“Bleed him!” bellowed Uduak.

“Char… and ashes!” said Chinedu, hacking out dubious encouragement. “Jengo… do something!”

Jengo pounced, shamed by his peers into attacking. Tau should have backed down, let Jengo’s aggression break on a wall of defense. But, the one-sided comments had gotten under his skin and he did the opposite, going harder at Jengo.

They crossed blades, broke apart, and swung like drunks, each missing twice, until Tau clapped Jengo on the side of the helmet with his sword. Jengo wavered, and Tau hit him again, hard. Jengo dropped to a knee and Tau brought his sword down, going for a “killing” blow. Jengo got his wooden blade up in time to block then rolled away before lurching to his feet.

Tau gave him no space, and after trading blows, Jengo was too far out of position to defend. Tau hit him in the shoulder and then, as Jengo hopped back in pain, he cracked him in the neck. Jengo made a strange high-pitched sound and went down. Tau moved to finish him, forcing Anan to call the match.

Face hot and heart drumming, but victorious, Tau put his hands up and yelled, turning to face the onlookers, flush with his first real isikolo win. The other men were quiet. They wouldn’t even give him the glory of this small obstacle overcome. Tau dropped his arms and sheathed his sword with force. To ash with them, he thought. He’d won with his off hand. He’d won.

Anan gave Tau a shallow nod. “Hadith, pair with Tau. Uduak, have at Yaw. Chinedu, you’ll sit out with Jengo.”

Tau grimaced and squared off against Hadith. His moment in the sun behind him and gone, without even time to wipe the sweat from his head.

“Fight!” Anan said, and he did, that day, the next, the next, and the next.

Hot mornings bled into torrid afternoons, and those spun away, becoming sweltering nights, and Tau’s entire body became one contiguous injury. Some days he woke so stiff he had to roll off his cot and onto the floor, lying there until he was loose enough to rise. But he did begin to win.

It happened slowly, and every match was still a war, but Tau began to take wins from the rest of Scale Jayyed during the regular sessions. In the early mornings, during the extra training, Tau could beat Jengo with some reliability, but none of the others. Least of all Uduak, who, Tau had to admit, he loathed having to fight.

Then, one morning, Jengo did not come to the extra morning session. He was not there the following day either. The remaining four gave Tau sour looks, as if Jengo’s leaving was his doing.

A moon cycle later, Jayyed came to see the progress. To date, he’d attended fewer than a third of the regular sessions and none of the early ones. Anan, when asked about this, told the men that it was important to break bad habits and accustom the initiates to a new life of combat. When that preliminary work was done, Jayyed would have initiates able to benefit from his focused attention. So it was a surprise to see him so soon.

“Scale ready!” Anan said. “Umqondisi present.”

Tau lined up with the others and Jayyed walked the line, looking the men up and down.

“You are my five,” he said. “You are the warriors who will be my proudest creation. You will become the Ihashe that are my legacy.” No one said a word. “I’ve told many of you the cost for greatness is time. The rest of my scale puts in time. They put in work. You put in more and you work harder. You will be better. It is the natural order and the secret path to brilliance—put in more, get out more.”

Jayyed stood at the center of the line of five men. He was in front of Tau, as if speaking only to him.

“Know you’re not owed your spot,” Jayyed said to them, said to Tau. “You can and will be replaced if you’re outperformed. However, if you maintain your place, you will train and learn as much in a single cycle at the isikolo as the Indlovu learn in three at the citadel. You are Lessers, but you’ll fight as hard as Nobles.”

Tau took a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. This was what he needed. This was everything he wanted.

“Know this as well,” Jayyed continued. “Improvement can only come through intentioned effort. Every day must be hard for you. The days without difficulty are the days you do not improve. The days you do not improve are the days the men behind you close the distance. It’s then you give your enemies hope. Hope that, when they meet you in battle, they have done enough to finish you.”

Jayyed drew his guardian dagger. Tau had not noticed him wearing it. The blade, dragon scale, was blacker than the darkest night. It looked like someone had torn away the fabric of the world and forgotten to replace it, leaving nothingness in its stead.

Jayyed held it high. “On the days you do not improve, you open yourself to the blade that will gut you, the knife that will enter your heart, and the hatchet or spear that will take your life.

“To defend against failure, every day must be hard. Every day must strengthen you. For it’s in the crucible of hard days that potential becomes power.”

Jayyed stepped closer, within arm’s length of Tau. “The wars you’ll wage aren’t decided when you fight them. They’re decided before that by the extent of your efforts and the substance of your sacrifices. They’re decided by the choices you make every single day. So ask yourself: How powerful do I choose to be?”

A spell had been cast. None dared break it. They stood like statues.

Jayyed lowered the dagger and sheathed it. “Today, we do not train within our scale. Today, we put down our wooden swords and skirmish against the others.

“Go to the barracks and tell the rest of my men. Break your fast and gather your bronze, blade and shield. You’ll fight as a unit and we’ll see how powerful you’ve chosen to be.”

On the way back to the barracks, Chinedu, in spite of his wretched cough, wouldn’t shut up. “See the… dagger, did you? Dragon scale, neh?”

Uduak, head down, and voice tree-root deep said, “We saw.”

The taciturn response didn’t satisfy Chinedu. “Got to… fight the other… scales now.”

“You’re going to drive me insane with that coughing,” said Hadith.

“To ash with… you, then,” he coughed out. “Got a problem with… my throat, haven’t I?”

“It’s to be a skirmish,” Yaw said, rubbing a sunburnt hand over his sunburnt head and flaking off dead flesh. Yaw was as light-skinned as an Omehi ever was and his coppery skin was never quite up to Xidda’s sun. He was always blotchy and peeling, an inyoka shedding its skin.

Hadith spat in the dirt and turned to Yaw. “It’s getting us ready for when we skirmish in the Crags against the Indlovu. They want us to start off against each other. Get a feel for scale on scale.”

“Don’t go… to the Crags for another moon cycle yet,” said Chinedu.

“That’s why it’s called getting someone ready, you inkumbe,” said Hadith.

Chinedu bristled but did nothing. Hadith was good with his sword; besides, he’d grown close with Uduak, who would pummel Chinedu, for his cough if nothing else.

“How does it work?” asked Tau, startling the rest.

“It speaks!” said Hadith.

“It shouldn’t,” growled Uduak.

Yaw took pity and explained. “When we go at the Indlovu, we’ll outnumber them three to one. Sometimes they have Enervators, sometimes not. The numbers don’t matter much. They always crush us. We’re meant to mimic the odds the Indlovu face in the Wrist, when they go up against the hedeni, them being so numerous and all.”

“He meant what’s today supposed to be like,” said Hadith.

“How you know that, then? What he meant, neh?” said Chinedu, perhaps coming to Yaw’s defense, but more likely looking for any opportunity to take Hadith down a peg.

Hadith ignored him and lectured Tau. “Today they’ll draw straws or pull names or some such. Our scale will be up against another scale. When we do it in the Crags, against the Indlovu, there are fighting grounds set up—”

“A mountain one, a desert one, even a city one, where they have pretend huts and longhouses and everything,” said Yaw, interrupting Hadith.

“We face Indlovu soon. In a moon cycle,” said Tau, thinking about Kellan, wondering if he’d be there and if he’d get to fight him. His thoughts turned dark, then worrisome. Tau wondered how ready he’d be to kill again. He wondered if he was good enough and didn’t like the answer that came back.

“We’ll lose,” Uduak said, breaking some self-imposed rule by speaking to Tau.

“Ihashe always lose to Indlovu. The Nobles like it that way,” said Hadith. “Reminds us where we stand.”

Yaw smiled. “It’ll be different this time.”

Hadith gave him a look. “What’s that?”

“We’re with Jayyed. He won a guardian dagger and knows how to get us good enough to give the Indlovu a real go.”

“You think?” said Hadith. “You think we’ll be anything against a scale of Nobles?”

“I’ll fight,” Uduak growled.

“Oh, I’ll fight too,” said Hadith. “Mostly ’cause we don’t have a choice. Fighting isn’t my worry. It’s the winning I’m not convinced of.”

“We’ll kill them,” Tau said.

The other men fell silent and Hadith gave him a look.

“Your mouth, Goddess’s ears,” Hadith said as the five men went into their barracks to tell the rest of their scale that it was time to fight.